Beówulf'S Funeral Pyre
Him þâ gegiredan Geáta leódeâd on eorðan un-wâclîcne,helmum behongen, hilde-bordum,beorhtum byrnum, swâ he bêna wäs;âlegdon þâ tô-middes mærne þeódenhäleð hiófende, hlâford leófne.Ongunnon þâ on beorge bæl-fýra mæstwîgend weccan: wudu-rêc âstâhsweart ofer swioðole, swôgende lêg,wôpe bewunden (wind-blond geläg)ôð þät he þâ bân-hûs gebrocen häfde,hât on hreðre. Higum unrôtemôd-ceare mændon mon-dryhtnes cwealm;swylce giômor-gyd † lat . con meowle. . . . . wunden heorde . . .serg (?) cearig sælde geneahhe
For him then the people of the Geats made readya funeral-pyre on the earth, no mean one,hung with helmets, with battle-shields,bright mail-coats, just as he had asked;they laid him down, in the middle, that famous prince,warriors mourning, their beloved lord.Then the warriors began to kindle, on the barrow,the greatest of funeral fires; the wood-smoke rose up,black over the burning, the roaring flame,mingled with weeping — the wind’s tumult settled —until it had broken apart that bone-house,hot at the heart. Troubled in spirit,they mourned their heart’s grief, the death of their lord;and a grieving woman too — her hair bound up —sorrowful, said again and again,that she — hard
þät hio hyre . . . . gas hearde. . . . . ede wälfylla wonn . .hildes egesan hyðohaf mid heofon rêce swealh (?)Geworhton þâ Wedra leódehlæw on hliðe, se wäs heáh and brâd,wæg-lîðendum wîde gesýne,and betimbredon on tyn dagumbeadu-rôfes bêcn: bronda betostwealle beworhton, swâ hyt weorðlîcostfore-snotre men findan mihton.Hî on beorg dydon bêg and siglu,eall swylce hyrsta, swylce on horde ærnîð-hydige men genumen häfdon;forlêton eorla gestreón eorðan healdan,gold on greóte, þær hit nu gen lifað
— the multitude of the fallen, feared —the terror of battle, harrying,the sky —swallowed with heaven's smoke —Then the people of the Weders built a moundon the headland, one that was high and broad,visible far off to seafarers, and in ten daysthey finished that battle-brave man’s beacon;they built a wall around the remains of the burning,as worthily as the wisest of mencould devise it. They placed in the barrow rings and jewels,all such ornaments as those bold-hearted menhad taken earlier from the hoard;they let the earth hold the wealth of earls,gold in the ground, where it still remains now,
eldum swâ unnyt, swâ hit æror wäs.Þâ ymbe hlæw riodan hilde-deóre,äðelinga bearn ealra twelfa,woldon ceare cwîðan, kyning mænan,word-gyd wrecan and ymb wer sprecan,eahtodan eorl-scipe and his ellen-weorcduguðum dêmdon, swâ hit ge-dêfe bið,þät mon his wine-dryhten wordum hêrge,ferhðum freóge, þonne he forð scileof lîc-haman læne weorðan.Swâ begnornodon Geáta leódehlâfordes hryre, heorð-geneátas,cwædon þät he wære woruld-cyningmannum mildust and mon-þwærust,leódum lîðost and lof-geornost.
as useless to men as it ever was.Then, around the mound, warriors rode,sons of nobles, twelve of them together,who wished to voice their grief, mourn their king,speak a word-song, and speak of that man;they praised his lordship, and honored his deeds of courage,weighed his valor with high esteem —just as it is fitting that a man should praise his friendly lordin words, love him in his heart, when he must be ledout of his body, away into what lies beyond.So the people of the Geats, his hearth-companions,mourned the fall of their lord; they said that of allthe kings of this world he was the gentlest of men,and the most fair-minded, the kindest to his people,and the hungriest for glory.