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His years on earth were ended now,

His hours of glad life gone for aye,

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His days alloted, and death was near:
"Now would I gladly give to a son
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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The slopes of the hill-sides were splashed with blood.

There was woe on the waters, the waves spat gore;

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They were full of weapons, and frothed with slaughter.

Back were beaten the bold Egyptians,
Fled in fear; they were filled with terror.
Headlong they hastened their homes to seek.
Less bold were their boasts as the billows rolled
o'er them,

Dread welter of waves. Not one of that army
Went again home, but Wyrd from behind
Barred with billows their backward path.
Where ways had lain, now weltered the sea,
The swelling flood. The storm went up
High to the heavens; hugest of uproars
Darkened the sky; the dying shrieked

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With voices doomed. The Deep streamed with blood.

Shield-walls were shattered by shock of the tempest.

Greatest of sea-deaths engulfed the mighty, 465
Captains and troops. Retreat was cut off
At the ocean's brink. Their battle-shields
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.

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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;
Earth was o'erwhelmed, the air was darkened;
Burst the wave-walls, the bulwarks tumbled;
The sea-towers melted, when the Mighty One
smote

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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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The army of sinners their souls gave up,
The sea-pale host, ensnared and surrounded,
When the dark upheaval o'erwhelmed them all,
Hugest of wild waves. The host sank down,
Pharaoh and his folk, the flower of Egypt
Utterly perished. The enemy of God

Soon discovered, when the sea he entered,

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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.

Cynewulf 1

THE VOYAGE OF LIFE

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In this wavering world, o'er wind-swept tracts
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.

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The greedy spirit of consuming flame
Shall leap o'er the land, and the lofty halls;
With the terror of fire shall fill the world.
The battle-thirsty flame shall blaze afar,
Devouring the earth, and all therein.
Strong-built walls shall split and crumble;
Mountains shall melt, and the mighty cliffs
That buttress the earth 'gainst battering waves,
Bulwarks upreared 'gainst the rolling billows,
Shall fall on a sudden. The sweep of the fire
Shall leave no bird nor beast alive.
The lurid flame shall leap along the world
Like a raging warrior. Where the waters flowed
In a bath of fire the fish shall be stifled;
Sundered from life, their struggles over,
The monsters of the deep no more shall swim.
Like molten wax the water shall burn.
More marvels shall appear than mind may con-
ceive,

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When tempest and whirlwind o'erwhelm the earth,

And rocks are riven by the roaring blast.
Men shall wail, they shall weep and lament,
Groan aghast with grovelling fear.

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The smoke-dark flame o'er the sinful shall roll,
The blaze shall consume their beakers of gold,
All the ancient heirlooms of kings.
The shrieks of the living aloud shall resound
Mid the crack of doom, their cry of fear,

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Famine-death fortook fortitude from men;
All their battle bulwarks bare foundations were!
Crumbled is the castle-keep; those have cringed
to earth

Who set up again the shrines! So the halls are dreary,

And this courtyard's wide expanse! From the raftered woodwork

The Ruin here described is supposed to be that of one of the walled towns of Roman-Britain, probably Bath. The date of the poem is unknown, but its language is later than that of Cynewulf.

2 The Fates.

3 Counsel, judgment.

4 Houses fed by springs of water. This passage, and the reference to the hot baths in lines 34-35 support the view that the city was Bath, where the ruins of Roman baths may still be seen.

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How oft through long seasons

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I suffered and strove,

Abiding within my breast
Bitterest care;

How I sailed among sorrows
In many a sea;

The wild rise of the waves,
The close watch of the night
At the dark prow in danger
Of dashing on rock,
Folded in by the frost,
My feet bound by the cold
In chill bands, in the breast
The heart burning with care.
The soul of the sea-weary
Hunger assailed.

Knows not he who finds happiest
Home upon earth

How I lived through long winter
In labour and care,

On the icy-cold ocean,
An exile from joy,

Cut off from dear kindred,
Encompassed with ice.

Hail flew in hard showers,
And nothing I heard

But the wrath of the waters,
The icy-cold way;

Alas for the strength of the prince! for the time

hath passed away

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At times the swan's song;

Is hid 'neath the shadow of night, as it never had been at all.

Behind the dear and doughty there standeth now a wall,

A wall that is wondrous high, and with wondrous snake-work wrought.

The strength of the spears hath fordone the earls and hath made them naught,

The weapons greedy of slaughter, and she, the mighty Wyrd;

And the tempests beat on the rocks, and the storm-wind that maketh afeard

In the scream of the gannet

I sought for my joy,

In the moan of the sea-whelp For laughter of men,

In the song of the sea-mew For drinking of mead. Starlings answered the storm Beating stones on the cliff, Icy-feathered, and often

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330

35

40

80

The eagle would shriek,

Wet of wing.

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For he little believes

To whom life's joy belongs In the town, lightly troubled With dangerous tracks,

Vain with high spirit

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1 The date and authorship are unknown. Some scholars think that the Seafarer is a dialogue between an old sailor and a young man who longs to go to sea, but as this is mere conjecture, no attempt has been made in the present version to indicate the respective parts.

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