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Swimming monsters swarmed about him,
Dented his mail with dreadful tusks.
Sudden the warrior was 'ware they had come
To a sea-hall strange and seeming hostile,
Where water was not nor waves oppressed,
For the caverned rock all round kept back
The swallowing sea. He saw a light,
A flicker of flame that flashed and shone.
Now first he discerned the sea-hag monstrous,
The water-wife wolfish. His weapon he raised,
And struck with his sword a swinging blow.
Sang on her head the hard-forged blade
Its war-song wild. But the warrior found
That his battle-flasher refused to bite,
Or maim the foe. It failed its master

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In the hour of need, though oft it had cloven
Helmets, and carved the casques of the doomed
In combats fierce. For the first time now
His treasure failed him, fallen from honor.
But Hygelac's earl took heart of courage;
In mood defiant he fronted his foe.
The angry hero hurled to the ground,
In high disdain, the hilt of the sword,
The gaudy and jewelled; rejoiced in the strength
Of his arm unaided. So all should do
Who glory would find and fame abiding,
In the crash of conflict, nor care for their lives.
The Lord of the Battle-Jutes braved the en-
counter;
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The murderous hag by the hair he caught;
Down he dragged the dam of Grendel
In his swelling rage, till she sprawled on the

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But the men who were watching the water with Hrothgar 1595

Suddenly saw a stir in the waves,

The chop of the sea all churned up with blood
And bubbling gore. The gray-haired chiefs
For Beowulf grieved, agreeing together
That hope there was none of his home-returning
With victory crowned, to revisit his lord. 1601
Most of them feared he had fallen prey
To the mere-wolf dread in the depths of the sea.
When evening came, the Scyldings all
Forsook the headland, and Hrothgar himself
Turned homeward his steps. But sick at heart
The strangers sat and stared at the sea,
Hoped against hope to behold their comrade
And leader again.

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Now that goodly sword Began to melt with the gore of the monster;1610 In bloody drippings it dwindled away. 'Twas a marvellous sight: it melted like ice, When fetters of frost the Father unlocks, Unravels the ropes of the wrinkled ice, Lord and Master of months and seasons. Beheld in the hall the hero from Juteland Treasures unnumbered, but naught he took, Save Grendel's head, and the hilt of the sword, Bright and jeweled, the blade had melted, Its metal had vanished, so venomous hot Was the blood of the demon-brute dead in the

cave.

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Soon was in the sea the slayer of monsters;
Upward he shot through the shimmer of waves;
Cleared was the ocean, cleansed were its waters,
The wolfish water-hag wallowed no more;
The mere-wife had yielded her miserable life.
Swift to the shore the sailors' deliverer
Came lustily swimming, with sea-spoil laden;
Rejoiced in the burden he bore to the land.
Ran to meet him his mailed comrades,
With thanks to God who gave them their leader
Safe again back and sound from the deep.
Quickly their hero's helmet they loosened,
Unbuckled his breastplate. The blood-stained

waves

Fell to a calm 'neath the quiet sky.

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Back they returned o'er the tracks with the footprints,

Merrily measured the miles o'er the fen,
Way they knew well, those warriors brave;

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BEOWULF'S LAST FIGHT AND DEATH [Beowulf left with the Danes his grisly trophies of battle, the head of Grendel, his huge forequarter, and the hilt of the giant sword with its mystical runic inscription. Loading his boat with the gifts of Hrothgar, he and his comrades sailed away home. After the death of Hygėlac and his son, Beowulf became king of the Jutes, and ruled over them fifty years. In his old age his people were harried by a fire-dragon whom the hero went out to fight. It seems that an outlaw, banished and flying for shelter, had come upon a treasure hid in a deep cave or barrow, guarded by a dragon. Long years before, an earl, the last of his race, had buried the treasure. After his death the dragon, sniffing about the stones, had found it and guarded it three hundred years, until the banished man discovered the place, and carried off one of the golden goblets. In revenge the dragon made nightly raids on Beowulf's realm, flying through the air, spitting fire, burning houses and villages, even Beowulf's hall, the "gift-stool" of the Jutes. Beowulf had an iron shield made against the dragon's fiery breath, and with eleven companions, sought out the hill-vault near the sea. Before attacking the monster he spoke these words to his comrades:]

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Beowulf said to them, brave words spoke he: "Brunt of battles I bore in my youth, One fight more I make this day.

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I mean to win fame defending my people,
If the grim destroyer will seek me out,
Come at my call from his cavern dark."
Then he greeted his thanes each one,
For the last time hailed his helmeted warriors,
His comrades dear. "I should carry no sword,
No weapon of war 'gainst the worm should bear,
If the foe I might slay by strength of my arm,
As Grendel I slew long since by my hand.
But I look to fight a fiery battle,
With scorching puffs of poisonous breath.

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For this I bear both breastplate and shield; 2525
No foot will I flinch from the foe of the barrow.
Wyrd is over us, each shall meet
His doom ordained at the dragon-cliff!
Bold is my mood, but my boast I omit
'Gainst the battle-flier. Abide ye here,
Heroes in harness, hard by the barrow,
Cased in your armor the issue await:
Which of us two his wounds shall survive.
Not yours the attempt, the task is mine.
'Tis meant for no man but me alone
To measure his might 'gainst the monster fierce.
I get you the gold in glorious fight,

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Or battle-death bitter shall bear off your lord."
Uprose with his shield the shining hero,
Bold 'neath his helmet. He bore his harness
In under the cliff; alone he went,

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Himself he trusted; no task for faint-heart.
Then saw by the wall the warrior brave,
Hero of many a hard-fought battle,
Arches of stone that opened a way;
From the rocky gate there gushed a stream,
Bubbling and boiling with battle-fire.
So great the heat no hope was there
To come at the hoard in the cavern's depth,
Unscathed by the blast of the scorching dragon.
He let from his breast his battle-cry leap,
Swoln with rage was the royal Jute,
Stormed the stout-heart; strong and clear
Through the gloom of the cave his cry went

ringing.

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Hate was aroused, the hoard-ward knew
The leader's hail. Too late 'twas now
To parley for peace. The poisonous breath
Of the monster shot from the mouth of the cave,
Reeking hot. The hollow earth rumbled.
The man by the rock upraised his shield,
The Lord of the Jutes, 'gainst the loathly
dragon.

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This earth to forsake, forever to leave it; Yet he must go, against his will

Elsewhere to dwell. So we all must leave 2590
This fleeting life.-Erelong the foes
Bursting with wrath the battle renewed.

The hoard-ward took heart, and with heaving breast

Came charging amain. The champion brave,
Strength of his people, was sore oppressed, 2595
Enfolded by flame. No faithful comrades
Crowded about him, his chosen band,
All æthelings' sons, to save their lives,
Fled to the wood. One of them only

Felt surging sorrow; for nought can stifle 2600
Call of kin in a comrade true;

Wiglaf his name, 'twas Weohstan's son
Shield-thane beloved, lord of the Scylfings
Elfhere's kinsman. When his king he saw
Hard by the heat under helmet oppressed, 2605
He remembered the gifts he had got of old,
Lands and wealth of the Wægmunding line,
The folk-rights all that his father's had been;
He could hold no longer, but hard he gripped
Linden shield yellow and ancient sword.
For the first time there the faithful thane, 2652.
Youthful and stalwart, stood with his leader,
Shoulder to shoulder in shock of battle.
Nor melted his courage, nor cracked his blade,
His war-sword true, as the worm found out 2656
When together they got in grim encounter.

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Wiglaf in wrath upbraided his comrades, Sore was his heart as he spake these words: "Well I mind when our mead we drank In the princely hall, how we promised our lord Who gave us these rings and golden armlets, That we would repay his war-gifts rich, Helmets and armor, if haply should come His hour of peril; us hath he made Thanes of his choice for this adventure; Spurred us to glory, and gave us these treasures Because he deemed us doughty spearmen, Helmeted warriors, hardy and brave. Yet all the while, unhelped and alone, He meant to finish this feat of strength, Shepherd of men and mightiest lord` Of daring deeds. The day is come,Now is the hour he needs the aid

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Years ago, in youth, thou vowedst
Living, ne'er to lose thine honor,
Shield thy life and show thy valor.
I stand by thee to the end!"
After these words the worm came on,
Snorting with rage, for a second charge;
All mottled with fire his foes he sought,
The warriors hated. But Wiglaf's shield
Was burnt to the boss by the billows of fire;
His harness helped not the hero young.
Shelter he found 'neath the shield of his kins-
man,
When the crackling blaze had crumbled his own:
But mindful of glory, the mighty hero
Smote amain with his matchless sword.
Down it hurtled, driven by anger,

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Till it stuck in the skull, then snapped the blade,
Broken was Nægling, Beowulf's sword,
Ancient and gray. 'Twas granted him never
To count on edge of iron in battle;

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His hand was too heavy, too hard his strokes,
As I have heard tell, for every blade
He brandished in battle: the best gave way,
And left him helpless and hard bestead.
Now for a third time neared the destroyer; 2715
The fire-drake fierce, old feuds remembering,
Charged the warrior who wavered an instant;
Blazing he came and closed his fangs
On Beowulf's throat; and throbbing spirts
Of life-blood dark o'erdrenched the hero.

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So felled they the foe and finished him bravely,
Together they killed him, the kinsmen two,
A noble pair. So needs must do
Comrades in peril. For the king it proved
His uttermost triumph, the end of his deeds
And work in the world. The wound began,
Where the cave-dragon savage had sunk his
teeth,

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To swell and fever, and soon he felt
The baleful poison pulse through his blood,
And burn in his breast. The brave old warrior
Sat by the wall and summoned his thoughts,
Gazed on the wondrous work of the giants:
Arches of stone, firm-set on their pillars,
Upheld that hill-vault hoar and ancient.

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Now Beowulf's thane, the brave and faithful, Dashed with water his darling lord,

His comrade and king all covered with blood And faint with the fight; unfastened his helmet. Beowulf spoke despite his hurt,

His piteous wound. Full well he knew

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His days alloted, and death was near: "Now would I gladly give to a son

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These weapons of war, had Wyrd 1 but granted
That heir of my own should after me come,
Sprung from my loins. This land have I ruled
Fifty winters. No folk-king dared,
None of the chiefs of the neighboring tribes,
To touch me with sword or assail me with terror
Of battle-threats. I bided at home,
Held my peace and my heritage kept,
Seeking no feuds nor swearing false oaths. 2765
This gives me comfort, and gladdens me now,
Though wounded sore and sick unto death.
As I leave my life the Lord may not charge me
With killing of kinsmen. Now quickly go,
Wiglaf beloved, to look at the hoard,
Where hidden it rests 'neath the hoary rock.
For the worm lies still, put asleep by his wound,
Robbed of his riches. Then rise and haste!
Give me to see that golden hoard,
Gaze on the store of glorious gems,
That easier then I may end my life,
Leave my lordship that long I held."

Swiftly, 'tis said, the son of Weohstan
Obeyed the words of his bleeding lord,

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Maimed in the battle. Through the mouth of

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Gazing sad at the gold before him:
"For the harvest of gold that here I look on,
To the God of Glory I give my thanks.
To the Ruler Eternal I render praise
That ere I must go he granted me this,
To leave to my people this priceless hoard.
'Twas bought with my life; now look ye well
To my people's need when I have departed. 2800
No more I may bide among ye here.

Bid the battle-famed build on the foreland
A far-seen barrow when flames have burnt me.
High o'er the headland of whales it shall tower,
A beacon and mark to remind my people. 2806
And sailors shall call it in years to come
Beowulf's Barrow as back from afar

O'er the glooming deep they drive their keels."

The great-hearted king unclasped from his neck

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A collar of gold, and gave to his thane,
The brave young warrior, his bright-gilt helmet,
Breastplate and ring. So bade him farewell:
"Thou art the last to be left of our house.
Wyrd hath o'erwhelmed our Wægmunding line,
Swept my kinsmen swift to their doom,
Earls in their prime. I must follow them."
These words were the last that the warrior gray
Found in his heart ere the flames he chose.
Swift from his bosom his soul departed
To find the reward of the faithful and true.

CÆDMON'S HYMN
(c. 670)

(Translated by P. V. D. SHELLY)

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gleamed

High o'er their heads as the heaped-up waters Compassed them round, the raging flood.

Doomed was the host, by death hemmed in, 470 Suddenly trapped. The salty billows

Swept with their swirling the sand from their feet,

As the Ocean cold to its ancient bed,
Through winding channels the churning flood,
Came rolling back o'er the rippled bottom, 475
Swift avenger, naked and wild.

With slaughter was streaked the storm-dark air;
The bursting deep with blood-terror_yawned,
When He who made it, by Moses' hand
Unbitted the wrath of the raging flood;
Wide it came sweeping to swallow the foe;
Foamed the waters, the fated sank;

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The pride of the host, through the pillar of fire,
With holy hand from heaven above.
The onslaught wild of the angry main
None might oppose. He appointed their end
In the roaring horror. Wroth was the sea: 490
Up it rose, down it smote, dealing destruction.
Slaughter-blood spread, the sea-wall fell,
Upreared on high, the handiwork of God,

When the ocean He smote with His ancient sword,

Felled the defence of the foam-breasted waves. With the death-blow deep, the doomed men slept.

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That the ocean's master was mightier than he.
By the strength of His arm He decided the battle,
Wrathful and grim. He gave the Egyptians 506
Thorough reward for that day's work.
Not one of that host to his home came back;
Of all those warriors not one returned
To bring the news of the battle's end,
To tell in the towns the tidings of woe,
Their husbands' doom to the heroes' wives,
How sea-death swallowed the stately host,-
No messenger left. The Lord Almighty
Confounded their boasting; they fought against
God.

Cynewulf1

THE VOYAGE OF LIFE

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Of open sea.. Anxious the struggle,
Ere we bring at last our barks to land,
O'er the rough sea-ridges. Our rescue is near;
The Son of God doth safely guide us,
Helps us into our harbor of refuge;
Shows from the deck the sheltered waters
Where smoothly to anchor our ancient chargers,
Hold with the hawsers our horses of the deep.
Then fix we our hope on that haven of safety
That the Prince of Glory prepared for us all, 865
The Ruler on high, when He rose to heaven.

DOOMSDAY

(From The Crist. Translated by J. D. SPAETH.)
Lo! on a sudden, and all unlooked for,
In the dead of the night, the day of the Lord
Shall break tremendous on man and beast,

O'erwhelming the world and the wide creation,
As a ruthless robber, ranging at night,
Who strides through the dark with stealthy

pace,

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And suddenly springs on sleep-bound heroes, Greets with violence his victims unguarded.

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A mighty host on the mount of Sion
Shall gather together glad and rejoicing
The faithful of the Lord, they shall find their
reward.

With one accord from the quarters four,
And uttermost ends of the earth at once,
Glorious angels together shall blow
Their shattering trumpets; the trembling earth
Shall shake and sink, as they sound together,

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1 Cynewulf, the greatest early poet of the north of England, lived probably in Northumbria at the end of the 8th century. The Christ, from which the two selections are taken, is his chief poem; it is 1664 lines long and consists of three parts, The Advent, The Ascension, and Doomsday.

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