Wiglaf was he called, he who was the son of Weohstan, the beloved
shield-warrior, the Prince of the Danes and the kinsman of Aelfhere. He
saw his lord suffering burning pain under his visor. Then he called
to mind the favour that he (Beowulf) had bestowed upon him in days
of yore, the costly dwelling of the Waegmundings [73] and all the
folk-rights which his father had possessed. Then he could not restrain
himself, but gripped the shield with his hand, the yellow wood, and
drew forth the old sword which was known among men as the heirloom
of Eanmund, the son of Ohthere, and in the striving Weohstan was
banesman by the edge of the sword to that friendless exile and bore
away to his kinsman the brown-hued helmet, the ringed byrny, and
the old giant's sword that Onela [74] had given him, the war-weeds
of his comrade, and the well-wrought armour for fighting. Nor did
he speak of the feud, though he slew his brother's son. And he held
possession of the treasures many years, both the sword and the byrny,
until such time as his son should hold the earlship as his father
had done. And he gave to the Geats a countless number of each kind
of war-weeds, when he in old age passed away from this life, on the
outward journey. That was the first time for the young champion that
he went into the war-rush with his noble lord. Nor did his mind melt
within him, nor did the heirloom of his kinsman at the war-tide. And
the dragon discovered it when they two came together.
Wiglaf spake many fitting words, and said to his comrades (for his
mind was sad within him): 'I remember the time when we partook of the
mead, and promised our liege-lord in the beer-hall, he who gave to
us rings, that we would yield to him war-trappings both helmets and a
hand-sword, if such need befell him. And he chose us for this warfare,
and for this journey, of his own free will, and reminded us of glory;
and to me he gave these gifts when he counted us good spear-warriors
and brave helmet-bearers, although our lord, this guardian of the
people had it in his mind all alone to do this brave work for us,
for he most of all men could do glorious things and desperate deeds
of war. And now is the day come that our lord hath need of our prowess
and of goodly warriors. Let us then go to the help of our battle-lord
while it lasts, the grim terror of fire. God knows well of me that
I would much rather that the flame should embrace my body together
with that of my lord the giver of gold. Nor does it seem to me to be
fitting that we should carry shields back to the homestead except we
have first laid low the foe and protected the life of the Prince of
the Weders. [75] And well I know that his old deserts were not that
he alone of the youth of the Geats should suffer grief and sink in
the fighting. So both sword and helmet, byrny and shield shall be
common to both of us together.'
Then he waded through the slaughter-reek, and bore the war-helmet
to the help of his lord, and uttered a few words: 'Beloved Beowulf,
do thou be doing all things, as thou of yore in the days of thy youth
wast saying that thou wouldst not allow thy glory to be dimmed whilst
thou wast living. Now shalt thou, the brave in deeds and the resolute
noble, save thy life with all thy might. I am come to help thee.' After
these words came the angry dragon, the terrible and hostile sprite
yet once again, and decked in his various hues of whelmings of fire,
against his enemies, the men that he hated. And the wood of the
shield was burnt up with the waves of flame, and his byrny could
not help the young spear-warrior; yet did the youth bravely advance
under the shield of his kinsman when his own had been destroyed by the
flames. Then again the war-king bethought him of glory, and struck a
mighty blow with his battle-sword so that it fixed itself in his head,
forced in by violence. And Naegling, Beowulf's sword old and grey,
broke in pieces, and failed in the contest. It was not given to him
that sharp edges of swords should help him in battle. His hand was
too strong, so that it overtaxed every sword, as I have been told,
by the force of its swing, whenever he carried into battle a wondrous
hand-weapon. And he was nowise the better for a sword. Then for the
third time, the scather of the people, the terrible Fire-dragon,
was mindful of feuds, and he rushed on the brave man when he saw
that he had room, all hot and battle-grim, and surrounded his neck
with bitter bones. And he was all be-bloodied over with life-blood,
and the sweat welled up in waves.