Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race

The Geats stood silent, abashed before the keen and deserved reproaches of the young hero, and they lamented the livelong day. None left the shore and their lord’s dead corpse; but one man who rode over the cliff near by saw the mournful little band, with Beowulf dead in the midst. This warrior galloped away to tell the people, saying: “Now is our ruler, the lord of the Geats, stretched dead on the plain, stricken by the dragon which lies dead beside him; and at his head sits Wiglaf, son of Weohstan, lamenting his royal kinsman. Now is the joy and prosperity of our folk vanished! Now shall our enemies make raids upon us, for we have none to withstand them! But let us hasten to bury our king, to bear him royally to his grave, with mourning and tears of woe.” These unhappy tidings roused the Geats, and they hastened to see if it were really true, and found all as the messenger had said, and wondered at the mighty dragon and the glorious hoard of gold. They feared the monster and coveted the treasure, but all felt that the command now lay with Wiglaf. At last Wiglaf roused himself from his silent grief and said: “O men of the Geats, I am not to blame that our king lies here lifeless. He would fight the dragon and win the treasure; and these he has done, though he lost his life therein; yea, and I aided him all that I might, though it was but little I could do. Now our dear lord Beowulf bade me greet you from him, and bid you to make for him, after his funeral pyre, a great and mighty cairn, even as he was the most glorious of men in his lifetime.

The Geats, bitterly grieving, fulfilled Wiglaf’s commands. They gathered wood for the fire, and piled it on the cliff-head; then eight chosen ones brought thither the treasures, and threw the dragon’s body over the cliff into the sea; then a wain, hung with shields, was brought to bear the corpse of Beowulf to Hronesness, where it was solemnly laid on the funeral pile and consumed to ashes.

“There then the Weder Geats wrought for their ruler dead A cairn on the ocean cliff widespread and lofty, Visible far and near by vessels’ wandering crews. They built in ten days’ space the hero’s monument, And wrought with shining swords the earthen rampart wall, So that the wisest men worthy might deem it. Then in that cairn they placed necklets and rings and gems Which from the dragon’s hoard brave men had taken. Back to the earth they gave treasures of ancient folk, Gold to the gloomy mould, where it now lieth Useless to sons of men as it e’er was of yore. Then round the mound there rode twelve manly warriors, Chanting their bitter grief, singing the hero dead, Mourning their noble king in fitting words of woe! They praised his courage high and his proud, valiant deeds, Honoured him worthily, as it is meet for men Duly to praise in words their friendly lord and king When his soul wanders forth far from its fleshly home. So all the Geat chiefs, Beowulf’s bodyguard, Wept for their leader’s fall: sang in their loud laments That he of earthly kings mildest to all men was, Gentlest, most gracious, most keen to win glory.”