[Illustration: CORONATION OF CHARLEMAGNE.--Levy.]
LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES
NARRATED WITH SPECIAL REFERENCE TO LITERATURE AND ART
BY H.A. GUERBER
"Saddle the Hippogriffs, ye Muses nine,
And straight we'll ride to the land of old Romance"
WIELAND
1896
DEDICATED TO MY SISTER ADELE E. GUERBER
"Men lykyn jestis for to here,
And romans rede in diuers manere
"Of Brute that baron bold of hond,
The first conqueroure of Englond;
Of kyng Artour that was so riche,
Was non in his tyme him liche.
"How kyng Charlis and Rowlond fawght
With sarzyns nold they be cawght;
Of Tristrem and of Ysoude the swete,
How they with love first gan mete;
"Stories of diuerce thynggis,
Of pryncis, prelatis, and of kynggis;
Many songgis of diuers ryme,
As english, frensh, and latyne."
_Curser Mundi_.
PREFACE.
The object of this work is to familiarize young students with the legends
which form the staple of mediaeval literature.
While they may owe more than is apparent at first sight to the classical
writings of the palmy days of Greece and Rome, these legends are very
characteristic of the people who told them, and they are the best exponents
of the customs, manners, and beliefs of the time to which they belong. They
have been repeated in poetry and prose with endless variations, and some of
our greatest modern writers have deemed them worthy of a new dress, as is
seen in Tennyson's "Idyls of the King," Goethe's "Reineke Fuchs," Tegnér's
"Frithiof Saga," Wieland's "Oberon," Morris's "Story of Sigurd," and many
shorter works by these and less noted writers.
These mediaeval legends form a sort of literary quarry, from which,
consciously or unconsciously, each writer takes some stones wherewith to
build his own edifice. Many allusions in the literature of our own day lose
much of their force simply because these legends are not available to the
general reader.
It is the aim of this volume to bring them within reach of all, and to
condense them so that they may readily be understood. Of course in so
limited a space only an outline of each legend can be given, with a few
short quotations from ancient and modern writings to illustrate the style
of the poem in which they are embodied, or to lend additional force to some
point in the story.
This book is, therefore, not a manual of mediaeval literature, or a series
of critical essays, but rather a synopsis of some of the epics and romances
which formed the main part of the culture of those days. Very little
prominence has been given to the obscure early versions, all disquisitions
have been carefully avoided, and explanations have been given only where
they seemed essential.
The wealth and variety of imagination displayed in these legends will, I
hope, prove that the epoch to which they belong has been greatly maligned
by the term "dark ages," often applied to it. Such was the favor which the
legendary style of composition enjoyed with our ancestors that several of
the poems analyzed in this volume were among the first books printed for
general circulation in Europe.
Previous to the invention of printing, however, they were familiar to rich
and poor, thanks to the scalds, bards, trouvères, troubadours, minstrels,
and minnesingers, who, like the rhapsodists of Greece, spent their lives in
wandering from place to place, relating or reciting these tales to all they
met in castle, cottage, and inn.
A chapter on the Romance literature of the period in the different
countries of Europe, and a complete index, will, it is hoped, fit this
volume for handy reference in schools and libraries, where the author
trusts it may soon find its own place and win a warm welcome.
CONTENTS.
I. BEOWULF
II. GUDRUN
III. REYNARD THE FOX
IV. THE NIBELUNGENLIED
V. LANGODARDIAN CYCLE OF MYTHS
VI. THE AMBLINGS
VII. DIETRICH VON BERN
VIII. CHARLEMAGNE AND HIS PALADINS
IX THE SONS OF AYMON
X. HUON OF BORDEAUX
XI. TITUREL AND THE HOLY GRAIL
XII. MERLIN
XIII. THE ROUND TABLE
XIV. TRISTAN AND ISEULT
XV. THE STORY OF FRITHIOF
XVI. RAGNAR LODBROK
XVII. THE CID
XVIII. GENERAL SURVEY OF ROMANCE LITERATURE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
CORONATION OF CHARLEMAGNE--Lévy
FUNERAL OF A NORTHERN CHIEF--Cormon
GUDRUN AND THE SWAN--Kepler
BROWN THE BEAR CAUGHT IN THE LOG--Wagner
REYNARD PREPARING FOR BATTLE--Kaulbach
GUNTHER WINNING HIS BRIDE--Keller
SIEGFRIED'S BODY BORNE HOME BY THE HUNTSMEN--Pixis
ASPRIAN SLAYING THE LION--Keller
FALKE KILLS THE GIANT--Keller
THE VICTORIOUS HUNS--Checa
THE TOMB OF THEODORIC
THE DEATH OF ROLAND--Keller
HUON BEFORE THE POPE--Gabriel Max
HUON AND AMANDA LEAP OVERBOARD--Gabriel Max
PARZIVAL UNCOVERING THE HOLY GRAIL--Pixis
ARRIVAL OF LOHENGRIN--Pixis
THE BEGUILING OF MERLIN--Burne-Jones
SIR LANCELOT DU LAC--Sir John Gilbert
ELAINE--Rosenthal
ISEULT SIGNALS TRISTAN--Pixis
THE LOVERS AT BALDER'S SHRINE--Kepler
FRITHIOF AT THE COURT OF KING RING--Kepler
STRATEGY OF HASTINGS--Keller
THE CID'S LAST VICTORY--Rochegrosse
LEGENDS OF THE MIDDLE AGES.
CHAPTER I.
BEOWULF.
"List! we have learnt a tale of other years,
Of kings and warrior Danes, a wondrous tale,
How aethelings bore them in the brunt of war."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
The most ancient relic of literature of the spoken languages of modern
Europe is undoubtedly the epic poem "Beowulf," which is supposed to have
been composed by the Anglo-Saxons previous to their invasion of England.
Although the poem probably belongs to the fifth century, the only existing
manuscript is said to date from the ninth or tenth century.
This curious work, in rude alliterative verse (for rhyme was introduced in
England only after the Norman Conquest), is the most valuable old English
manuscript in the British Museum. Although much damaged by fire, it has
been carefully studied by learned men. They have patiently restored the
poem, the story of which is as follows:
[Sidenote: Origin of the Skioldungs.] Hrothgar (the modern Roger), King of
Denmark, was a descendant of Odin, being the third monarch of the
celebrated dynasty of the Skioldungs. They proudly traced their ancestry to
Skeaf, or Skiold, Odin's son, who mysteriously drifted to their shores. He
was then but an infant, and lay in the middle of a boat, on a sheaf of ripe
wheat, surrounded by priceless weapons and jewels. As the people were
seeking for a ruler, they immediately recognized the hand of Odin in this
mysterious advent, proclaimed the child king, and obeyed him loyally as
long as he lived. When he felt death draw near, Skeaf, or Skiold, ordered a
vessel to be prepared, lay down in the midst on a sheaf of grain or on a
funeral pyre, and drifted out into the wide ocean, disappearing as
mysteriously as he had come.
[Sidenote: Construction of Heorot.] Such being his lineage, it is no wonder
that Hrothgar became a mighty chief; and as he had amassed much wealth in
the course of a long life of warfare, he resolved to devote part of it to
the construction of a magnificent hall, called Heorot, where he might feast
his retainers and listen to the heroic lays of the scalds during the long
winter evenings.
"A hall of mead, such as for space and state
The elder time ne'er boasted; there with free
And princely hand he might dispense to all
(Save the rude crowd and men of evil minds)
The good he held from Heaven. That gallant work,
Full well I wot, through many a land was known
Of festal halls the brightest and the best."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
The inauguration of this hall was celebrated by a sumptuous entertainment;
and when all the guests had retired, the king's bodyguard, composed of
thirty-two dauntless warriors, lay down in the hall to rest. When morning
dawned, and the servants appeared to remove the couches, they beheld with
horror the floor and walls all stained with blood, the only trace of the
knights who had gone to rest there in full armor.
[Sidenote: The monster Grendel.] Gigantic, blood-stained footsteps, leading
directly from the festive hall to the sluggish waters of a deep mountain
lake, or fiord, furnished the only clew to their disappearance. Hrothgar,
the king, beholding these, declared that they had been made by Grendel, a
descendant of the giants, whom a magician had driven out of the country,
but who had evidently returned to renew his former depredations.
"A haunter of marshes, a holder of moors.
. . . . . Secret
The land he inhabits; dark, wolf-haunted ways
Of the windy hillside, by the treacherous tarn;
Or where, covered up in its mist, the hill stream
Downward flows."
_Beowulf_ (Keary's tr.).
As Hrothgar was now too old to wield a sword with his former skill, his
first impulse was, of course, to offer a princely reward to any man brave
enough to free the country of this terrible scourge. As soon as this was
known ten of his doughtiest knights volunteered to camp in the hall on the
following night, and attack the monster Grendel should he venture to
reappear.
But in spite of the valor of these experienced warriors, and of the
efficacy of their oft-tried weapons, they too succumbed. A minstrel, hiding
in a dark corner of the hall, was the only one who escaped Grendel's fury,
and after shudderingly describing the massacre he had witnessed, he fled in
terror to the kingdom of the Geates (Jutes or Goths). There he sang his
lays in the presence of Hygelac, the king, and of his nephew Beowulf (the
Bee Hunter), and roused their deepest interest by describing the visit of
Grendel and the vain but heroic defense of the brave knights. Beowulf,
having listened intently, eagerly questioned the scald, and, learning from
him that the monster still haunted those regions, impetuously declared his
intention to visit Hrothgar's kingdom, and show his valor by fighting and,
if possible, slaying Grendel.
"He was of mankind
In might the strongest,
At that day
Of this life,
Noble and stalwart.
He bade him a sea ship,
A goodly one, prepare.
Quoth he, the war king,
Over the swan's road,
Seek he would
The mighty monarch,
Since he wanted men."
_Beowulf_ (Longfellow's tr.).
[Sidenote: Beowulf and Breka.] Although very young, Beowulf was quite
distinguished, and had already won great honors in a battle against the
Swedes. He had also proved his endurance by entering into a swimming match
with Breka, one of the lords at his uncle's court. The two champions had
started out, sword in hand and fully armed, and, after swimming in concert
for five whole days, they were parted by a great tempest.
"Then were we twain there on the sea
Space of five nights, till the floods severed us,
The welling waves. Coldest of weathers,
Shadowy night, and the north wind
Battelous shocked on us; wild were the waters,
And were the mere-fishes stirred up in mind."
_Beowulf_.
Breka was driven ashore, but the current bore Beowulf toward some jagged
cliffs, where he desperately clung, trying to resist the fury of the waves,
and using his sword to ward off the attacks of hostile mermaids, nicors
(nixies), and other sea monsters. The gashed bodies of these slain foes
soon drifted ashore, to Hygelac's amazement; but when Beowulf suddenly
reappeared and explained that they had fallen by his hand, his joy knew no
bounds. As Breka had returned first, he received the prize for swimming;
but the king gave Beowulf his treasured sword, Nägeling, and praised him
publicly for his valor.
Beowulf had successfully encountered these monsters of the deep in the
roaring tide, so he now expressed a hope that he might prevail against
Grendel also; and embarking with fourteen chosen men, he sailed to Denmark,
where he was challenged by the coast guard and warmly welcomed as soon as
he had made his purpose known.
"'What men are ye,
War gear wearing,
Host in harness,
Who thus the brown keel
Over the water street
Leading, come
Hither over the sea?'"
_Beowulf_ (Longfellow's tr.).
Hrothgar received Beowulf most hospitably, but vainly tried to dissuade him
from his perilous undertaking. Then, after a sumptuous banquet, where the
mead flowed with true northern lavishness, Hrothgar and his suite sadly
left the hall Heorot in charge of the brave band of strangers, whom they
never expected to see again.
[Sidenote: Beowulf and Grendel.] As soon as the king had departed, Beowulf
bade his companions lie down and sleep in peace, promising to watch over
them, yet laying aside both armor and sword; for he knew that weapons were
of no avail against the monster, whom he intended to grapple with hand to
hand should it really appear.
"'I have heard
That that foul miscreant's dark and stubborn flesh
Recks not the force of arms:--such I forswear,
Nor sword nor burnish'd shield of ample round
Ask for the war; all weaponless, hand to hand
(So may great Higelac's smile repay my toil)
Beowulf will grapple with the mighty foe.'"
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
The warriors had no sooner stretched themselves out upon the benches in the
hall than, overcome by the oppressive air as well as by mead, they sank
into a profound sleep. Beowulf alone remained awake, watching for Grendel's
coming. In the early morning, when all was very still, the giant appeared,
tore asunder the iron bolts and bars which secured the door, and striding
into the hall, enveloped in a long, damp mantle of clammy mist, he pounced
upon one of the sleepers. He tore him limb from limb, greedily drank his
blood, and devoured his flesh, leaving naught but the head, hands, and feet
of his unhappy victim. This ghastly repast only whetted the fiend's
ravenous appetite, however, so he eagerly stretched out his hands in the
darkness to seize and devour another warrior. Imagine his surprise and
dismay when he suddenly found his hand caught in so powerful a grasp that
all his efforts could not wrench it free!
Grendel and Beowulf struggled in the darkness, overturning tables and
couches, shaking the great hall to its very foundations, and causing the
walls to creak and groan under the violence of their furious blows. But in
spite of Grendel's gigantic stature, Beowulf clung so fast to the hand and
arm he had grasped that Grendel, making a desperate effort to free himself
by a jerk, tore the whole limb out of its socket! Bleeding and mortally
wounded, he then beat a hasty retreat to his marshy den, leaving a long,
bloody trail behind him.
"Soon the dark wanderer's ample shoulder bore
A gaping wound, each starting sinew crack'd,
And from its socket loosed the strong-knit joint.--
The victory was with Beowulf, and the foe,
Howling and sick at heart, fled as he might,
To seek beneath the mountain shroud of mist
His joyless home; for well he knew the day
Of death was on him, and his doom was seal'd."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
As for Beowulf, exhausted but triumphant, he stood in the middle of the
hall, where his companions crowded around him, gazing in speechless awe at
the mighty hand and limb, and the clawlike fingers, far harder than steel,
which no power had hitherto been able to resist.
At dawn Hrothgar and his subjects also appeared. They heard with wonder a
graphic account of the night's adventures, and gazed their fill upon the
monster's limb, which hung like a trophy from the ceiling of Heorot. After
the king had warmly congratulated Beowulf, and bestowed upon him many rich
gifts, he gave orders to cleanse the hall, to hang it with tapestry, and to
prepare a banquet in honor of the conquering hero.
[Sidenote: Beowulf honored by the queen.] While the men were feasting,
listening to the lays of the scalds, and carrying the usual toasts,
Wealtheow, Hrothgar's beautiful wife, the Queen of Denmark, appeared. She
pledged Beowulf in a cup of wine, which he gallantly drained after she had
touched it to her lips. Then she bestowed upon him a costly necklace (the
famous Brisinga-men, according to some authorities)[1] and a ring of the
finest gold. [Footnote 1: See Guerber's Myths of Northern Lands, p. 127.]
"'Wear these,' she cried, 'since thou hast in the fight
So borne thyself, that wide as ocean rolls
Round our wind-beaten cliffs his brimming waves,
All gallant souls shall speak thy eulogy.'"
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
When the banquet was ended, Hrothgar escorted his guests to more pleasant
sleeping apartments than they had occupied the night before, leaving his
own men to guard the hall, where Grendel would never again appear. The
warriors, fearing no danger, slept in peace; but in the dead of night the
mother of the giant, as grewsome and uncanny a monster as he, glided into
the hall, secured the bloody trophy still hanging from the ceiling, and
carried it away, together with Aeschere (Askher), the king's bosom friend.
When Hrothgar learned this new loss at early dawn he was overcome with
grief; and when Beowulf, attracted by the sound of weeping, appeared at his
side, he mournfully told him of his irretrievable loss.
"'Ask not after happiness;
Sorrow is renewed
To the Danes' people.
Aeschere is dead,
Yrmenlaf's
Elder brother,
The partaker of my secrets
And my counselor,
Who stood at my elbow
When we in battle
Our mail hoods defended,
When troops rushed together
And boar crests crashed.'"
_Beowulf_ (Metcalfe's tr.).
[Sidenote: Beowulf and Grendel's mother.] The young hero immediately
volunteered to finish his work and avenge Aeschere by seeking and attacking
Grendel's mother in her own retreat; but as he knew the perils of this
expedition, Beowulf first gave explicit directions for the disposal of his
personal property in case he never returned. Then, escorted by the Danes
and Geates, he followed the bloody track until he came to a cliff
overhanging the waters of the mountain pool. There the bloody traces
ceased, but Aeschere's gory head was placed aloft as a trophy.
"Now paused they sudden where the pine grove clad
The hoar rock's brow, a dark and joyless shade.
Troublous and blood-stain'd roll'd the stream below.
Sorrow and dread were on the Scylding's host,
In each man's breast deep working; for they saw
On that rude cliff young Aeschere's mangled head."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
Beowulf gazed down into the deep waters, saw that they also were darkly
dyed with the monster's blood, and, after taking leave of Hrothgar, bade
his men await his return for two whole days and nights ere they definitely
gave him up for lost. He then plunged bravely into the bloody waters, swam
about seeking for the monster's retreat, and dived deep. At last, descrying
a phosphorescent gleam in the depths, he quickly made his way thither,
shrewdly conjecturing that it must be Grendel's hiding place. But on his
way thither he was repeatedly obliged to have recourse to his sword to
defend himself against the clutches of countless hideous sea monsters which
came rushing toward him on all sides.
"While thro' crystal gulfs were gleaming
Ocean depths, with wonders teeming;
Shapes of terror, huge, unsightly,
Loom'd thro' vaulted roof translucent."
J.C. JONES, _Valhalla_.
A strong current seized Beowulf, and swept him irresistibly along into the
slimy retreat of Grendel's mother. She clutched him fast, wrestled with
him, deprived him of his sword, flung him down, and finally tried to pierce
his armor with her trenchant knife. Fortunately, however, the hero's armor
was weapon-proof, and his muscles were so strong that before she could do
him any harm he had freed himself from her grasp. Seizing a large sword
hanging upon a projection of rock near by, he dealt her a mighty blow,
severing her head from the trunk at a single stroke. The blood pouring out
of the cave mingled with the waters without, and turned them to such a
lurid hue that Hrothgar and his men sorrowfully departed, leaving the
Geates alone to watch for the return of the hero, whom they feared they
would never see again.
Beowulf, in the mean while, had rushed to the rear of the cave, where,
finding Grendel in the last throes, he cut off his head also. He seized
this ghastly trophy and rapidly made his way up through the tainted waters,
which the fiery blood of the two monsters had so overheated that his sword
melted in its scabbard and naught but the hilt remained.
"That stout sword of proof,
Its warrior task fulfill'd, dropp'd to the ground
(So work'd the venom of the felon's blood)
A molten mass."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
The Geates were about to depart in sorrow, notwithstanding the orders they
had received, when they suddenly beheld their beloved chief safe and sound,
and bearing the evidences of his success. Then their cries of joy echoed
and reechoed from the neighboring hills, and Beowulf was escorted back to
Heorot, where he was almost overwhelmed with gifts by the grateful Danes. A
few days later Beowulf and his companions returned home, where the story of
their adventures, and an exhibition of all the treasures they had won,
formed the principal topics of conversation.
[Sidenote: Death of Hygelac.] Several years of comparative peace ensued,
ere the land was invaded by the Friesians, who raided the coast, burning
and plundering all in their way, and retreated into their ships before
Hygelac or Beowulf could overtake and punish them. The immediate result of
this invasion was a counter-movement on Hygelac's part. But although he
successfully harried Friesland, he fell into an ambush just as he was about
to leave the country, and was cruelly slain, his nephew Beowulf barely
escaping a similar untoward fate.
When the little army of the Geates reached home once more, they either
buried or consumed Hygelac's remains, with his weapons and battle steed, as
was customary in the North. This ceremony ended, Queen Hygd, overwhelmed
with grief, and fearing the almost inevitable dissensions arising during
the long minority of an infant king, convened the popular assembly known as
the Thing, and bade the people set her own child's claims aside in favor of
Beowulf. This proposal was hailed with enthusiasm; but Beowulf refused to
usurp his kinsman's throne, and raising Hardred, Hygelac's infant son, upon
his shield, he declared that he would protect and uphold him as long as he
lived. The people, following his example, swore fealty to the new king, and
faithfully kept this oath until he died.
Hardred, having attained his majority, ruled wisely and well; but his
career was cut short by the sons of Othere, the discoverer of the North
Cape. These youths had rebelled against their father's authority and taken
refuge at Hardred's court; but when the latter advised a reconciliation,
the eldest youth angrily drew his sword and slew him.
[Illustration: FUNERAL OF A NORTHERN CHIEF.--Cormon.]
[Sidenote: Beowulf made king.] This crime was avenged, with true northern
promptitude, by Wiglaf, one of the king's followers; and while the second
youth effected an escape, Beowulf was summoned by the Thing to accept the
now vacant throne. As there were none to dispute his claims, the hero no
longer refused to rule, and he bravely defended his kingdom against
Eadgils, Othere's second son. Eadgils was now king of Sweden, and came with
an armed host to avenge his brother's death; but he only succeeded in
losing his own life.
A reign of forty years of comparative peace brought Beowulf to extreme old
age. He had naturally lost much of his former vigor, and was therefore
somewhat dismayed when a terrible, fire-breathing dragon took up its abode
in the mountains near by, where it gloated over a hoard of glittering gold.
"The ranger of the darksome night,
The Firedrake, came."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.)
[Sidenote: The Firedrake.] A fugitive slave, having made his way unseen
into the monster's den during one of its temporary absences, bore away a
small portion of this gold. On its return the Firedrake discovered the
theft, and became so furious that its howling and writhing shook the
mountain like an earthquake. When night came on its rage was still
unappeased, and it flew all over the land, vomiting venom and flames,
setting houses and crops afire, and causing so much damage that the people
were almost beside themselves with terror. Seeing that all their attempts
to appease the dragon were utterly fruitless, and being afraid to attack it
in its lair, they finally implored Beowulf to deliver them as he had
delivered the Danes, and to slay this oppressor, which was even worse than
the terrible Grendel.
Such an appeal could not be disregarded, and in spite of his advanced years
Beowulf donned his armor once more. Accompanied by Wiglaf and eleven of his
bravest men, he then went out to seek the monster in its lair. At the
entrance of the mountain gorge Beowulf bade his followers pause, and
advancing alone to the monster's den, he boldly challenged it to come forth
and begin the fray. A moment later the mountain shook as the monster rushed
out breathing fire and flame, and Beowulf felt the first gust of its hot
breath, even through his massive shield.
"First from his lair
Shaking firm earth, and vomiting as he strode
A foul and fiery blast, the monster came."
_Beowulf_ (Conybeare's tr.).
A desperate struggle followed, in the course of which Beowulf's sword and
strength both failed him. The Firedrake coiled its long, scaly folds about
the aged hero, and was about to crush him to death when the faithful
Wiglaf, perceiving his master's imminent danger, sprang forward and
attacked the monster so fiercely as to cause a diversion and make it drop
Beowulf to concentrate its attention upon him.
Beowulf, recovering, then drew his dagger and soon put an end to the
dragon's life; but even as it breathed its last the hero sank fainting to
the ground. Feeling that his end was near, he warmly thanked Wiglaf for his
timely aid, rejoiced in the death of the monster, and bade his faithful
follower bring out the concealed treasure and lay it at his feet, that he
might feast his eyes upon the glittering gold he had won for his people's
use.
"Saw then the bold thane
Treasure jewels many,
Glittering gold
Heavy on the ground,
Wonders in the mound
And the worm's den,
The old twilight flier's,
Bowls standing;
Vessels of men of yore,
With the mountings fall'n off.
There was many a helm
Old and rusty,
Armlets many
Cunningly fastened.
He also saw hang heavily
An ensign all golden
High o'er the hoard,
Of hand wonders greatest,
Wrought by spells of song,
From which shot a light
So that he the ground surface
Might perceive,
The wonders overscan."
_Beowulf_ (Metcalfe's tr.).
[Sidenote: Death of Beowulf.] The mighty treasure was all brought forth to
the light of day, and the followers, seeing that all danger was over,
crowded round their dying chief. He addressed them affectionately, and,
after recapitulating the main events his career, expressed a desire to be
buried in a mighty mound on a projecting headland, which could be seen far
out at sea, and would be called by his name.
"'And now,
Short while I tarry here--when I am gone,
Bid them upon yon headland's summit rear
A lofty mound, by Rona's seagirt cliff;
So shall my people hold to after times
Their chieftain's memory, and the mariners
That drive afar to sea, oft as they pass,
Shall point to Beowulf's tomb.'"
_Beowulf_(Conybeare's tr.).
These directions were all piously carried out by a mourning people, who
decked his mound with the gold he had won, and erected above it a Bauta, or
memorial stone, to show how dearly they had loved their brave king Beowulf,
who had died to save them from the fury of the dragon.