Chapter 41

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THEN fashioned for him the folk of Geats
firm on the earth a funeral-pile
and hung it with helmets and harness of war
and breastplates bright, as the boon he asked
and they laid amid it the mighty chieftain
heroes mourning their master dear.
Then on the hill that hugest of balefires
the warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose
black over blaze, and blent was the roar
of flame with weeping (the wind was still
till the fire had broken the frame of bones
hot at the heart. In heavy mood
their misery moaned they, their master’s death.
Wailing her woe, the widow 123 old
her hair upbound, for Beowulf’s death
sung in her sorrow, and said full oft
she dreaded the doleful days to come
deaths enow, and doom of battle
and shame. — The smoke by the sky was devoured.
The folk of the Weders fashioned there
on the headland a barrow broad and high
by ocean-farers far descried
in ten days’ time their toil had raised it
the battle-brave’s beacon. Round brands of the pyre
a wall they built, the worthiest ever
that wit could prompt in their wisest men.
They placed in the barrow that precious booty
the rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile
hardy heroes, from hoard in cave
trusting the ground with treasure of earls
gold in the earth, where ever it lies
useless to men as of yore it was.
Then about that barrow the battle-keen rode
atheling-born, a band of twelve
lament to make, to mourn their king
chant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.
They praised his earlship, his acts of prowess
worthily witnessed: and well it is
that men their master-friend mightily laud
heartily love, when hence he goes
from life in the body forlorn away.
Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland
for their hero’s passing his hearth-companions
quoth that of all the kings of earth
of men he was mildest and most beloved
to his kin the kindest, keenest for praise.
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