The Coward-Thanes
Þâ wäs gegongen guman unfrôdumearfoðlîce, þät he on eorðan geseahþone leófestan lîfes ät endebleáte gebæran. Bona swylce läg,egeslîc eorð-draca, ealdre bereáfod,bealwe gebæded: beáh-hordum lengwyrm woh-bogen wealdan ne môste,ac him îrenna ecga fornâmon,hearde heaðo-scearpe homera lâfe,þät se wîd-floga wundum stillehreás on hrusan hord-ärne neáh,nalles äfter lyfte lâcende hwearfmiddel-nihtum, mâðm-æhta wloncansýn ýwde: ac he eorðan gefeóllfor þäs hild-fruman hond-geweorce.
It had gone hard, then, for that young man,to have to watch on the ground the dearest of mensuffering so pitifully, at the end of his life.His slayer lay there too, that terrible earth-dragon,stripped of life,brought down by disaster:the coiled worm was no longer allowed to guardthe ring-hoard,but iron edges had taken him,hard and battle-sharp, leavings of the hammer,so that the wide-flier, stilled now by his wounds,fell to the ground near his hoard-hall;no longerdid he go flying through the air at midnight,showing himself, proud of his treasures,
Hûru þät on lande lyt manna þâhmägen-âgendra mîne gefræge,þeáh þe he dæda gehwäs dyrstig wære,þät he wið âttor-sceaðan oreðe geræsde,oððe hring-sele hondum styrede,gif he wäccende weard onfundebûan on beorge. Biówulfe wearðdryht-mâðma dæl deáðe forgolden;häfde æghwäðer ende gefêredlænan lîfes. Näs þâ lang tô þon,þät þâ hild-latan holt ofgêfan,tydre treów-logan tyne ätsomne,þâ ne dorston ær dareðum lâcanon hyra man-dryhtnes miclan þearfe;
but he fell to earth through that battle-leader’s handiwork.Indeed, few men of strength in that land,as I have heard, though daring in every deed,had any luck rushing against that poisonous breath,or laying hands on the ring-hall,if they had found its guardian awake,keeping watch in the barrow. Beowulf’s shareof that precious hoard was paid for with death;each of the two had reached the endof this loaned life. It was not long, then,before those battle-slow ones came out of the woods,ten faithless men together, who had not dared beforeto play with spears in their lord’s great need;but now, ashamed, they carried their shields,
ac hy scamiende scyldas bæran,gûð-gewædu, þær se gomela läg:wlitan on Wîglâf. He gewêrgad sät,fêðe-cempa freán eaxlum neáh,wehte hyne wätre; him wiht ne speów;ne meahte he on eorðan, þeáh he ûðe wel,on þam frum-gâre feorh gehealdan,ne þäs wealdendes willan wiht oncirran;wolde dôm godes dædum rædangumena gehwylcum, swâ he nu gen dêð.Þâ wäs ät þam geongan grim andswaruêð-begête þâm þe ær his elne forleás.Wîglâf maðelode, Weohstânes sunu,secg sârig-ferð seah on unleófe:
their war-gear, to where the old man lay;they looked at Wiglaf. He sat there exhausted,a foot-soldier, close by his lord’s shoulder,tried to wake him with water;it did no good at all.He could not, for all he wished it, keep any life at allin his leader, here on this earth, nor turn asidethe Ruler’s will in any way at all;God’s judgment would govern the deeds of every man,just as it still does now. Then a grim answerwas easily gotten, from that young man,for those who had lost their courage. Wiglaf spoke,son of Weohstan, a man sad at heart,looked at those unloved ones:
"Þät lâ mäg secgan, se þe wyle sôð sprecan,"þät se mon-dryhten, se eów þâ mâðmas geaf,"eóred-geatwe, þe ge þær on standað,"þonne he on ealu-bence oft gesealde"heal-sittendum helm and byrnan,"þeóden his þegnum, swylce he þryðlîcost"ôhwær feor oððe neáh findan meahte,"þät he genunga gûð-gewædu"wrâðe forwurpe. Þâ hyne wîg beget,"nealles folc-cyning fyrd-gesteallum"gylpan þorfte; hwäðre him god ûðe,"sigora waldend, þät he hyne sylfne gewräc"âna mid ecge, þâ him wäs elnes þearf,"Ic him lîf-wraðe lytle meahte
“This much may truly be said,by anyone who wishes to speak the truth,that the lord who gave you those treasures,the armor you are standing there in,when he often gave, from the ale-bench, to hall-sitters,helmet and mail-coat, the prince to his thanes,the finest he could find anywhere, far or near —that he wasted that battle-gear utterly and for nothing,when war came upon him. The king of this peoplehad no need at all to boast of his war-companions;yet God granted him, the Ruler of victories,that he avenged himself, alone, with his own blade,when he had need of courage. I could give himlittle protection for his life in that fight,
"ätgifan ät gûðe and ongan swâ þeáh"ofer mîn gemet mæges helpan:"symle wäs þý sæmra, þonne ic sweorde drep"ferhð-genîðlan, fýr unswîðor"weóll of gewitte. Wergendra tô lyt"þrong ymbe þeóden, þâ hyne sió þrag becwom."Nu sceal sinc-þego and swyrd-gifu"eall êðel-wyn eówrum cynne,"lufen âlicgean: lond-rihtes môt"þære mæg-burge monna æghwylc"îdel hweorfan, syððan äðelingas"feorran gefricgean fleám eówerne,"dôm-leásan dæd. Deáð bið sêlla"eorla gehwylcum þonne edwît-lîf!"
and yet I began, beyond my own measure,to help my kinsman;it always went the worsefor our enemy, once I struck him with my sword,the fire welling less strongly out of his head.Too few defenders crowded round the princewhen that dire hour came upon him.Now the taking of treasureand the giving of swords, all the joy of home,shall come to an end for your kindred, stripped of joy;every man of your family line shall have to gowithout his land-right, once nobles far awaylearn of your flight, that shameful deed.Death is better for any warrior than a life of disgrace!”