# The Oldest English Epic/Chapter 1/Beowulf 37

XXXVII
’Twas now, men say, in his sovran’s need 2695that the earl made known his noble strain, craft and keenness and courage enduring. Heedless of harm, though his hand was burned, hardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman. A little lower the loathsome beast ​2700he smote with sword; his steel drove in bright and burnished; that blaze began to lose and lessen. At last the king wielded his wits again, war-knife drew, a biting blade by his breastplate hanging, 2705and the Weders’-helm smote that worm asunder, felled the foe, flung forth its life. So had they killed it, kinsmen both, athelings twain: thus an earl should be in danger’s day!—Of deeds of valor 2710this conqueror’s-hour of the king was last, of his work in the world. The wound began, which that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted, to swell and smart; and soon he found in his breast was boiling, baleful and deep, 2715pain of poison. The prince walked on, wise in his thought, to the wall of rock; then sat, and stared at the structure of giants, where arch of stone and steadfast column upheld forever that hall in earth. 2720Yet here must the hand of the henchman peerless lave with water his winsome lord, the king and conqueror covered with blood, with struggle spent, and unspan his helmet. Beowulf spake in spite of his hurt, ​2725his mortal wound; full well he knew his portion now was past and gone of earthly bliss, and all had fled of his file of days, and death was near: “I would fain bestow on son of mine 2730this gear of war, were given me now that any heir should after me come of my proper blood. This people I ruled fifty winters. No folk-king was there, none at all, of the neighboring clans 2735who war would wage me with ‘warriors’-friends’ and threat me with horrors. At home I bided what fate might come, and I cared for mine own; feuds I sought not, nor falsely swore ever on oath. For all these things, 2740though fatally wounded, fain am I! From the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me, when life from my frame must flee away, for killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go ​and gaze on that hoard ’neath the hoary rock, 2745Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low, sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved. And fare in haste. I would fain behold the gorgeous heirlooms, golden store, have joy in the jewels and gems, lay down 2750softlier for sight of this splendid hoard my life and the lordship I long have held.”
* ↑ Literally, “heeded not head,”—either his own (“heedless of head and limbs” translates Gering), or else the dragon’s: “nor feared the flame from the beast’s jaws,”—which is less likely.
* ↑ As in other fights with a dragon, the monster is killed by a blow underneath its body where no scales protect it. Saxo’s Frotho, succeed- ing to a depleted treasury, is told by a “native” about a dragon (serpens) who guards a mount (montis possessor) full of treasure. Its poison is deadly. Frotho must not seek to pierce its scales, but “there is a place under its belly” where his sword can thrust and kill.—Saxo, Bk. II (Holder, p. 38). Much the same is told of another king who slays the serpent that guards an “underground room.” Bk. VI (Holder, p. 181).
* ↑ In the ballads this useful dagger or short sword is often a “wee penknife that hangs low down by the gare”; but the wee penknife now and then is described as “three-quarters [of a yard] long.”
* ↑ As in all the adventures described by our poet, the actual climax and decisive part of the fight is told in briefest fashion.
* ↑ That is, swords. See v. 1810, above. “Friend-of-war” would be a more exact translation of the kenning.
* ↑ “With a joyful spirit, I Sir Richard Grenville, die.” “I am no sinner,” says Beowulf, “and die a glad man.” This mood of the happy warrior in death has had less clerical correction than occurred in a similar situation in The Fight at Maldon. Byrhtnoth, dying on the field, looks up to heaven and says:— “I praise and thank thee, Prince of Nations, for all the bliss this earth has brought me! Now, Merciful Maker, is most my need that thou good speed to my spirit give, and let my soul to thee safely come, pass in peace to thy power and keeping, Prince of Angels! I pray thee well that it get no harm from hell’s destroyers.” For the unmixed note of exultation we turn to the pagan Norsemen.