THE TALE OF THE DRACULA

What! we of the Spear-Danes of yore days, so was it

That we learn'd of the fair fame of kings of the folks

And the athelings a-faring in framing of valour.

Oft then Scyld the Sheaf-son from the hosts of the scathers,

From kindreds a many the mead-settles tore;

It was then the earl fear'd them, sithence was he first

Found bare and all-lacking; so solace he bided,

Wax'd under the welkin in worship to thrive,

Until it was so that the round-about sitters

10 All over the whale-road must hearken his will

And yield him the tribute. A good king was that,

By whom then thereafter a son was begotten,

A youngling in garth, whom the great God sent thither

To foster the folk; and their crime-need he felt

The load that lay on them while lordless they lived

For a long while and long. He therefore, the Life-lord,

The Wielder of glory, world's worship he gave him:

Brim Beowulf waxed, and wide the weal upsprang

Of the offspring of Scyld in the parts of the Scede-lands.

20 Such wise shall a youngling with wealth be a-working

With goodly fee-gifts toward the friends of his father,

That after in eld-days shall ever bide with him,

Fair fellows well-willing when wendeth the war-tide,

Their lief lord a-serving. By praise-deeds it shall be

That in each and all kindreds a man shall have thriving.

Then went his ways Scyld when the shapen while was,