The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 32
XXXII. HOW THE WORM CAME TO THE HOWE, AND HOW HE WAS ROBBED OF A CUP; AND HOW HE FELL ON THE FOLK.
NOT at all with self-wielding the craft of the worm-hoardsHe sought of his own will, who sore himself harmed;But for threat of oppression a thrall, of I wot not Which bairn of mankind, from blows wrathful fled,House-needy forsooth, and hied him therein,A man by guilt troubled. Then soon it betidedThat therein to the guest there stood grisly terror;However the wretched, of every hope waning........The ill-shapen wight, whenas the fear gat him,The treasure-vat saw; of such there was a manyUp in that earth-house of treasures of old,2231As them in the yore-days, though what man I know not,The huge leavings and loom of a kindred of high ones,Well thinking of thoughts there had hidden away,Dear treasures. But all them had death borne awayIn the times of erewhile; and the one at the lastOf the doughty of that folk that there longest lived,There waxed he friend-sad, yet ween'd he to tarry,That he for a little those treasures the longsomeMight brook for himself. But a burg now all ready2240Wonn'd on the plain nigh the waves of the water,New by a ness, by narrow-crafts fasten'd; Within there then bare of the treasures of earlsThat herd of the rings a deal hard to carry,Of gold fair beplated, and few words he quoth:Hold thou, O earth, now, since heroes may hold not,The owning of earls. What! it erst within theeGood men did get to them; now war-death hath gotten,Life-bale the fearful, each man and every2249Of my folk; e'en of them who forwent the life:The hall-joy had they seen. No man to wear swordI own, none to brighten the beaker beplated,The dear drink-vat; the doughty have sought to else-whither.Now shall the hard war-helm bedight with the goldBe bereft of its plating; its polishers sleep,They that the battle-mask erewhile should burnish:Likewise the war-byrny, which abode in the battleO'er break of the war-boards the bite of the irons,Crumbles after the warrior; nor may the ring'd byrnyAfter the war-leader fare wide afield2260On behalf of the heroes: nor joy of the harp is,No game of the glee-wood; no goodly hawk now Through the hall swingeth; no more the swift horseBeateth the burg-stead. Now hath bale-quellingA many of life-kin forth away sent.Suchwise sad-moody moaned in sorrowOne after all, unblithely bemoaningBy day and by night, till the welling of deathTouch'd at his heart. The old twilight-scatherFound the hoard's joyance standing all open,2270E'en he that, burning, seeketh to burgs,The evil drake, naked, that flieth a night-tide,With fire encompass'd; of him the earth-dwellersAre strongly adrad; wont is he to seek toThe hoard in the earth, where he the gold heathenWinter-old wardeth; nor a whit him it betters.So then the folk-scather for three hundred wintersHeld in the earth a one of hoard-housesAll-eked of craft, until him there anger'dA man in his mood, who bare to his man-lord2280A beaker beplated, and bade him peace-wardingOf his lord: then was lightly the hoard searched over,And the ring-hoard off borne; and the boon it was grantedTo that wretched-wrought man. There then the lord saw That work of men foregone the first time of times.Then awaken'd the Worm, and anew the strife was;Along the stone stank he, the stout-hearted foundThe foot-track of the foe; he had stept forth o'er-farWith dark craft, over-nigh to the head of the drake.So may the man unfey full easily outlive2290The woe and the wrack-journey, he whom the Wielder'sOwn grace is holding. Now sought the hoard-wardenEager over the ground; for the groom he would findWho unto him sleeping had wrought out the sore:Hot and rough-moody oft he turn'd round the howeAll on the outward; but never was any manOn the waste; but however in war he rejoiced,In battle-work. Whiles he turn'd back to his howeAnd sought to his treasure-vat; soon he found this,That one of the grooms had proven the gold,2300 The high treasures; then the hoard-warden abided,But hardly forsooth, until come was the even,And all anger-bollen was then the burg-warden,And full much would the loath one with the fire-flame pay backFor his drink-vat the dear. Then day was departedE'en at will to the Worm, and within wall no longerWould he bide, but awayward with burning he fared,All dight with the fire: it was fearful beginningTo the folk in the land, and all swiftly it fellOn their giver of treasure full grievously ended.