{I would rather die than go home with out my suzerain.}

          God wot in me, ’tis mickle the liefer
          The blaze should embrace my body and eat it
          With my treasure-bestower.  Meseemeth not proper
          To bear our battle-shields back to our country,
       50 ’Less first we are able to fell and destroy the
          Long-hating foeman, to defend the life of

{Surely he does not deserve to die alone.}

          The prince of the Weders.  Well do I know ’tisn’t
          Earned by his exploits, he only of Geatmen
          Sorrow should suffer, sink in the battle: 
       55 Brand and helmet to us both shall be common,
          [1]Shield-cover, burnie.”  Through the bale-smoke he stalked then,
          Went under helmet to the help of his chieftain,

{Wiglaf reminds Beowulf of his youthful boasts.}

          Briefly discoursing:  “Beowulf dear,
          Perform thou all fully, as thou formerly saidst,
       60 In thy youthful years, that while yet thou livedst
[90] Thou wouldst let thine honor not ever be lessened. 
          Thy life thou shalt save, mighty in actions,
          Atheling undaunted, with all of thy vigor;

{The monster advances on them.}

          I’ll give thee assistance.”  The dragon came raging,
       65 Wild-mooded stranger, when these words had been uttered
          (’Twas the second occasion), seeking his enemies,
          Men that were hated, with hot-gleaming fire-waves;
          With blaze-billows burned the board to its edges: 
          The fight-armor failed then to furnish assistance
       70 To the youthful spear-hero:  but the young-aged stripling
          Quickly advanced ’neath his kinsman’s war-target,
          Since his own had been ground in the grip of the fire.

{Beowulf strikes at the dragon.}

          Then the warrior-king was careful of glory,
          He soundly smote with sword-for-the-battle,
       75 That it stood in the head by hatred driven;
          Naegling was shivered, the old and iron-made

{His sword fails him.}

          Brand of Beowulf in battle deceived him. 
          ’Twas denied him that edges of irons were able
          To help in the battle; the hand was too mighty
       80 [2]Which every weapon, as I heard on inquiry,
          Outstruck in its stroke, when to struggle he carried
          The wonderful war-sword:  it waxed him no better.

{The dragon advances on Beowulf again.}

          Then the people-despoiler—­third of his onsets—­
          Fierce-raging fire-drake, of feud-hate was mindful,
       85 Charged on the strong one, when chance was afforded,
          Heated and war-grim, seized on his neck
          With teeth that were bitter; he bloody did wax with
          Soul-gore seething; sword-blood in waves boiled.