1750he gives for his pride; the promised future
forgets he and spurns, with all God has sent him,
Wonder-Wielder, of wealth and fame.
Yet in the end it ever comes
that the frame of the body fragile yields,
1755fatéd falls; and there follows another
who joyously the jewels divides,[1]
the royal riches, nor recks of his forebear.
Ban, then, such baleful thoughts, Beowulf dearest,
best of men, and the better part choose,
1760profit eternal; and temper thy pride,
warrior famous! The flower of thy might
lasts now a while: but erelong it shall be
that sickness or sword thy strength shall minish,
or fang of fire, or flooding billow,
1765or bite of blade, or brandished spear,
or odious age; or the eyes’ clear beam
wax dull and darken: Death even thee
in haste shall o’erwhelm, thou hero of war!
So the Ring-Danes these half-years a hundred I ruled,
1770wielded ’neath welkin, and warded them bravely
from mighty-ones many o’er middle-earth,
from spear and sword, till it seemed for me
no foe could be found under fold of the sky.
Lo, sudden the shift! To me seated secure
1775came grief for joy when Grendel began
to harry my home, the hellish foe;
- ↑ Note the absumet heres Cæcuba dignior as partly a division of treasure, the right Germanic thing to do, and the hint of revel and profusion in Horace’s vein.
