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1.
Beowulf, the heroic warrior, the slayer of Grendel and of that
monster’s mother the hideous witch-woman, ruled as King in the
land of the Goths. For fifty years he reigned, and his people
dwelt in peace.
Then there came a dragon, a fiery monster, that wasted the
lands of Beowulf. It dwelt in a barrow on a wide, open fell; and
it guarded a treasure both rich and rare.
Three hundred years before the last of a band of heroes had
hid in the barrow his hoard of riches. Then death had conquered
him; the treasure was left unguarded. Ranging the land in search
of prey, the dragon had found the hoard, and had made his
dwelling in the mound.
A fugitive, fleeing the wrath of his master, one day found the
dragon asleep, his scaly form encircling the barrow. With
trembling foot and loudly-beating heart he stepped within the
treasure-house; he took from thence a precious tankard, and bore
it to his lord as an offering of peace.
The dragon awoke and knew of his loss. One of the race of men
whom he had hitherto left in peace had spoiled his
treasure-house. Henceforth he would war against that race,
leaving fire and death in his track. So the trouble began; the
land of Beowulf felt the anger of the dragon, the flaming one
that flieth by night, the bane of peaceful tillers of the soil.
Soon the Worm reached the palace of the King; the pride of the
Goths was devoured by flames of fire. Then the leader of
warriors, the captain of heroes, was angered at heart. He himself
would fight with the dragon—he won had passed through many a
conflict, had won victory in many a desperate fight. So should
his people rest once more in peace.
2.
Against the fiery flame the linden shield would avail not.
Therefore the King had made for him a shield of iron—a sure
defence in war, a cunning masterpiece of smith’s work.
In this and in his own stout heart he trusted; he scorned to
seek the monster with a warrior host; he would venture forth, not
alone indeed, but leading only a small band of his faithful
Goths.
So the King and his warriors sallied forth, twelve in number;
with them went the spoiler of the treasure-house, the man whose
theft had caused the trouble; he was bidden to guide the King to
the house of the dragon, the lonely mound by the sea, stored with
wealth untold.
Before long the barrow was sighted, hard by the ocean. Beowulf
halted his men; he spoke to them sorrowful words of farewell; his
heart was heavy with foreboding; the end of a heroic life was
nigh.
Said the war-worn warrior: "Many a contest have I waged
since my youth, many times won victory. Once again I shall seek
the strife, once again win fame. Shield and mail-coat shall
protect me against the fiery foe, the winged warrior. From him I
will not flee, but will fight till the quarrel is decided. Await
me here on this mountain. It is not your task, but mine, to
measure might with this monster."
So the brave captain, the lord and keeper of the Goths, set
himself to the battle. He moved forward towards the barrow; he
lifted up his voice and called aloud; the sound reached the
guardian of the treasure, the lurking monster within. At once
there came from the doorway a spurt of smoking breath; the ground
trembled.
Shield on arm and sword in hand stood the Gothic leader, the
Worm advanced, not without fear of his foe. The sword of Beowulf
flashed in the light; it struck the grisly the creature; strong
was the stroke, but it availed not; the blade-edge pierced not
the long scales.
Fire flashed forth from the dragon’s mouth; the air was
filled with destroying sparks. Once more the fighters closed;
Beowulf seemed shrouded in flame; sore need had he of help in the
struggle. But his warriors failed him; fear held them back; they
slunk to the wood; this was no man’s fight in which they
might share.
One only mastered his fear; his name was Wiglaf, a warrior
beloved of his lord. He spake to his comrades: "Our liege lord
has need of us; the devouring flame encircles him. Shame on us if
we rescue him not!" Then he sped to the fight; with brave words
he rallied his captain and King, urged him on to the battle,
stood by to support him.
But his shield was of linden, and ere long he was shieldless.
The dragon-flame devoured it, reduced it to ashes. The warrior
found a refuge only beneath the iron shield of Beowulf.
3.
There came to the mind of Beowulf ... enemy of mighty deeds
done in days of old. He summoned up his spirit; he smote with his
sword a desperate blow; the head of the monster was pierced, but
the blade flew in splinters; the well-tempered sword had failed
the fighter at his need.
On came the winged one, thirsting for vengeance. With sharp
teeth he seized the hero, gripped him by the neck, tore his
flesh, spilt his blood on the plain. But Wiglaf the helper smote
the monster beneath the head. His sword found an entrance; the
winged warrior fell wounded.
Beowulf grasped his war-knife; he struck the Worm in the
middle, a death dealing-blow, a conquering stroke. They held
quelled the fire-breather, dealt death to ravager.
But the King of the Goths, the dauntless warrior, was sorely
wounded; he sat on a stone near the mound, the treasure-house
bereft of its guardian. To him the faithful warrior brought help;
he loosed the helmet of his chief, and bore him healing water
from the spring.
Well did the hero know that his hours were numbered, that
death was immediately nigh. "I have ruled my people many
years," he said, "and no monarch has dared to attack me.
Wisely have I ruled with justice and mercy; hence have I comfort
now that death is at hand. Go thou, Wiglaf beloved, enter the
ancient treasure-house, fetch forth the gold, the precious
vessels, the costly gems; let me behold the rich treasure before
my life departeth."
Then Wiglaf, obedient to his lord, entered the barrow, the den
of the Worm, now dead on the plain. There he saw many
wonders—helmets of heroes, ornaments and trinkets, vessels of
gold and vessels of silver, a banner all golden, reflecting the
day-gleam, and lighting the treasury with burnished rays.
In his arms he bore them from their store-house, returning as
often as there was need; he laid them down on the sward and
arranged them before the eyes of his lord. Beowulf, now nigh unto
death, roused himself from his weakness. "I offer my thanks,"
he said, "to the Almighty Captain, the Lord of the Glory, that
I have been able to win such treasure for my people. My time
draws nigh. Command my warriors to build on the headland by the
sea a cairn of huge stones; let that be my memorial and a guide
to sea-fares; men shall call it Beowulf’s Barrow."
The King took from his neck the collar of gold: he gave it to
Wiglaf the warrior, who helped him in his need. To him also he
gave his burnished helm, his kingly crown, and his coat of mail.
"My kinsmen have departed," he said, "captains and heroes,
men of renown, I go to join them." Then from his bosom his
spirit departed to receive the reward of the Just.
From the Old English Beowulf Poem
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