“Fierce in his fearsome helmet that fighting champion stood,
Trusting in his tested strength, and his last trial faced,
With his blade and buckler he bent low and entered
Under the craggy cliffs—no coward that one!”
As Wyrd May Allow
“And I won’t back away
One step from my station, I will stand to the end
In our war near the wall, as wyrd may allow,
That master of men”
When Dayraven Died
“I fought in the front and fiercely delivered,
Standing steadfast, and so I alway fight
While my blade proves bold and my bravery lasts,
As it has repeatedly proven—profoundly loyal—
Since I dealt out death and Dayraven died,
Felled by my fisted might, that Frankish champion”
Lurking in Lust
“Where breakers dashed the barrow on the bluff near the sea,
A sea that was surging. Inside was the treasure,
Of glittering gold-work—and a glaring dragon,
Fierce and formidable, filled with gold-yearning,
He lurked in his lust”
Cruelty Over the Crags
“Aflame with fierce anger he flew from his barrow,
Cruelty over the crags, a comfortless land,
No one walked in that wilderness, yet for warfare he lusted,
And the blood of battle”
That Serpent and Worm
“That serpent and worm
Found the hoard that was hidden, that heathen gold,
Who, with flaming breath, found the barrow at midnight,
Firedrake, flame-snake, a foul dragon with wings,
Enveloped in vice and fire, the villages below
Fear that fantastic worm”
No One Left
“No liegemen are left, who loved honor and battle,
No hall-joy, high singing, no holding our cups,
Bright with mead blessing. My brave men are lost”
Fifty Winters
“So Beowulf the brave a broad realm came to rule
As defender for fifty winters, and was found to rule well,
As head and high priest he held the throne,
A wise and wizened king until the worm came . . .”
Pleading With Anguish
“That great prince implored me, pleaded with anguish,
To seek the sea’s bottom and summon up vengeance,
To brave the beast’s power, take battle down to her.”
Homeward Bound
“Then their keel carved water, they caught the wind,
And drove the deep water with Denmark behind them.
They hoisted high the wind-coat and held it with ropes,
Tight to the tall mast; their timbers creaked . . .
Foam-throated she flew, fleet like an arrow”