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Then had it sorrowfully come to pass for the young warrior that he saw his most beloved in a miserable plight on the earth at his life’s end. Likewise the terrible dragon, his slayer, lay there bereft of life and pressed sore by ruin. And the coiled dragon could no longer wield the hoard of rings, but the iron edges of the sword, well tempered and battle-gashed; the hammer’s leavings⁷⁵, had carried him off, so that the wide-flier, stilled because of his wounds, fell to the earth near to the hoard-hall. And no more in playful wise at the midnight hour, did he drift through the air; this dragon, proud in his gainings of treasure, showed not his face, but was fallen to the earth because of the handiwork of the battle-warrior.

The young warrior faced a sorrowful sight. He saw the man he loved most lying in misery on the ground, at the end of his life. Likewise, the terrible dragon that had killed him lay dead, crushed by destruction. The coiled dragon could no longer control the hoard of rings. Instead, the sword’s iron edges, well tempered and scarred by battle, had killed the dragon. Those edges were the hammer’s work⁷⁵. So the far-flying dragon, brought to a halt by his wounds, fell to the ground near the treasure hall. No longer did he glide playfully through the midnight air. The dragon, proud of the treasure he had gained, no longer showed his face. Instead, he lay fallen on the ground because of the warrior’s handiwork.

And as I have heard, it would have profited but few of the mighty men, even though they were doughty in deeds of all kinds, though they should rush forth against the flaming breath of the poisonous scather, even to the very disturbing of the Ring-Hall with their hands, if they should have found the guardian thereof awake, and dwelling in the cliff-cave. Then Beowulf’s share of lordly treasure was paid for by his death. And both he and the dragon had come to an end of their fleeting days.

And as I have heard, few mighty warriors would have gained anything by charging into the poisonous destroyer’s fiery breath. That would be true even of warriors brave in all kinds of deeds. Even if they disturbed the Ring-Hall with their hands, few would have benefited if its guardian was awake in the cliff-cave. Then Beowulf paid with his life for his share of the royal treasure. Both he and the dragon had reached the end of their brief lives.

And not long after that, the laggards in battle, those cowardly treaty-breakers, ten of them together, came back from the woodlands, they who erewhile had dreaded the play of javelins when their lord had sore need of their help. But they were filled with shame, and carried their shields, and battle-weeds, to where the old prince was lying. And they looked on Wiglaf; he the foot-warrior sat aweary near to the shoulders of his lord, and sought to rouse him by sprinkling water upon him, but he succeeded not at all. Nor could he, though he wished it ever so much, keep life in the chieftain or avert a whit the will of the Wielder of all things. Every man’s fate was decided by the act of God, as is still the case. Then was a grim answer easily given by the young man to these who erewhile had lost their courage.

Not long afterward, the ten cowardly oath-breakers who had held back in battle returned together from the woods. They had feared the clash of spears when their lord desperately needed their help. But now, filled with shame, they carried their shields and armor to where the old prince lay. They looked at Wiglaf, the foot soldier, who sat exhausted beside his lord’s shoulders. Wiglaf tried to revive his lord by sprinkling water on him, but had no success at all. However much he wished to, Wiglaf could not keep his lord alive or change God’s will even slightly. God, the ruler of all things, decided every person’s fate, as he still does. Then the young man readily gave a harsh answer to those who had earlier lost their courage.

Wiglaf spake, he the son of Weohstan, the sad-hearted. ‘He who will speak truth may say that the lord and master who gave you gifts, and warlike trappings, in which ye are now standing, when he very often gave on the ale-bench to them who sat in the hall, both helmet and byrny, the Prince to his thanes, as he could find any of you most noble far or near, that he wholly wrongly bestowed upon you war-trappings when war befell him. The King of the folk needed not indeed to boast of his army comrades, yet God, the Wielder of Victory, granted to him that alone he avenged himself with the edge of the sword when he had need of strength. And but a little life-protection could I give him in the battle, yet I sought to help him beyond my strength. The dragon was by so much the weaker when I struck with my sword that deadly foe. And less fiercely the fire surged forth from his head. Too few were the defenders thronged around their lord when his fated hour came. And now shall the receiving of treasure, and the gift of swords, and all joy of home and hope cease for ever to men of your kin. And every man of you of the tribe must wander empty of land-rights, since noble men will learn far and wide of your flight and inglorious deed. Death would be better for earls than a life of reproach.’

Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, spoke with a heavy heart. ‘Anyone speaking the truth may say your lord and master utterly wasted the battle gear he gave you. You stand in that gear now. Often, as you sat drinking ale in his hall, the Prince gave his thanes helmets and armor. He chose those he could find, near or far, whom he judged the noblest among you. Yet when war came upon him, his gifts proved wholly misplaced. The King of the people certainly had no reason to boast of his comrades in arms. Yet God, the Giver of Victory, allowed him to avenge himself alone with his sword when he needed strength. ‘I could give him only a little protection in battle, yet I tried to help him beyond my strength. The dragon, that deadly enemy, grew that much weaker when I struck him with my sword. And the fire poured less fiercely from his head. Too few defenders gathered around their lord when his fated hour came. ‘And now your families will forever lose the treasures, the gifts of swords, and all joy of home and hope. And every one of you must wander without rights to land. For nobles far and wide will learn of your flight and shameful deed. Death would be better for warriors than a life of disgrace.’