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THE TALE OF BEOWULF
Through the hall swingeth; no more the swift horse
Beateth the burg-stead. Now hath bale-quelling
A many of life-kin forth away sent.
Suchwise sad-moody moaned in sorrow
One after all, unblithely bemoaning
By day and by night, till the welling of death
Touch'd at his heart. The old twilight-scather
Found the hoard's joyance standing all open,2270
E'en he that, burning, seeketh to burgs,
The evil drake, naked, that flieth a night-tide,
With fire encompass'd; of him the earth-dwellers
Are strongly adrad; wont is he to seek to
The hoard in the earth, where he the gold heathen
Winter-old wardeth; nor a whit him it betters.
So then the folk-scather for three hundred winters
Held in the earth a one of hoard-houses
All-eked of craft, until him there anger'd
A man in his mood, who bare to his man-lord2280
A beaker beplated, and bade him peace-warding
Of his lord: then was lightly the hoard searched over,
And the ring-hoard off borne; and the boon it was granted
To that wretched-wrought man. There then the lord saw
Beateth the burg-stead. Now hath bale-quelling
A many of life-kin forth away sent.
Suchwise sad-moody moaned in sorrow
One after all, unblithely bemoaning
By day and by night, till the welling of death
Touch'd at his heart. The old twilight-scather
Found the hoard's joyance standing all open,2270
E'en he that, burning, seeketh to burgs,
The evil drake, naked, that flieth a night-tide,
With fire encompass'd; of him the earth-dwellers
Are strongly adrad; wont is he to seek to
The hoard in the earth, where he the gold heathen
Winter-old wardeth; nor a whit him it betters.
So then the folk-scather for three hundred winters
Held in the earth a one of hoard-houses
All-eked of craft, until him there anger'd
A man in his mood, who bare to his man-lord2280
A beaker beplated, and bade him peace-warding
Of his lord: then was lightly the hoard searched over,
And the ring-hoard off borne; and the boon it was granted
To that wretched-wrought man. There then the lord saw
