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• Argument
• The Story of Beowulf
• I.: And First of the Kindred of Hrothgar.
• II.: Concerning Hrothgar, and How He Built the House Called Hart. Also Grendel Is Told Of.
• III.: How Grendel Fell Upon Hart and Wasted It.
• IV.: Now Comes Beowulf Ecgtheow’s Son to the Land of the Danes, and the Wall-warden Speaketh With Him.
• V.: Here Beowulf Makes Answer to the Land-warden, Who Showeth Him the Way to the King’s Abode.
• VI.: Beowulf and the Geats Come Into Hart.
• VII.: Beowulf Speaketh With Hrothgar, and Telleth How He Will Meet Grendel.
• VIII.: Hrothgar Answereth Beowulf and Biddeth Him Sit to the Feast.
• IX.: Unferth Contendeth In Words With Beowulf.
• X.: Beowulf Makes an End of His Tale of the Swimming. Wealhtheow, Hrothgar’s Queen, Greets Him; and Hrothgar Delivers to Him the Warding of the Hall.
• XI.: Now Is Beowulf Left In the Hall Alone With His Men.
• XII.: Grendel Cometh Into Hart: of the Strife Betwixt Him and Beowulf.
• XIII.: Beowulf Hath the Victory: Grendel Is Hurt Deadly and Leaveth Hand and Arm In the Hall.
• XIV.: The Danes Rejoice; They Go to Look On the Slot of Grendel, and Come Back to Hart, and On the Way Make Merry With Racing and the Telling of Tales.
• XV.: King Hrothgar and His Thanes Look On the Arm of Grendel. Converse Betwixt Hrothgar and Beowulf Concerning the Battle.
• XVI.: Hrothgar Giveth Gifts to Beowulf.
• XVII.: They Feast In Hart. the Gleeman Sings of Finn and Hengest.
• XVIII.: The Ending of the Tale of Finn.
• XIX.: More Gifts Are Given to Beowulf. the Brising Collar Told Of.
• XX.: Grendel’s Dam Breaks Into Hart and Bears Off Aeschere.
• XXI.: Hrothgar Laments the Slaying of Aeschere, and Tells of Grendel’s Mother and Her Den.
• XXII.: They Follow Grendel’s Dam to Her Lair.
• XXIII.: Beowulf Reacheth the Mere-bottom In a Day’s While, and Contends With Grendel’s Dam.
• XXIV.: Beowulf Slayeth Grendel’s Dam, Smiteth Off Grendel’s Head, and Cometh Back With His Thanes to Hart.
• XXV.: Converse of Hrothgar With Beowulf.
• XXVI.: More Converse of Hrothgar and Beowulf: the Geats Make Them Ready For Departure.
• XXVII.: Beowulf Bids Hrothgar Farewell: the Geats Fare to Ship.
• XXVIII.: Beowulf Comes Back to His Land. of the Tale of Thrytho.
• XXIX.: Beowulf Tells Hygelac of Hrothgar: Also of Freawaru His Daughter.
• XXX.: Beowulf Forebodes Ill From the Wedding of Freawaru: He Tells of Grendel and His Dam.
• XXXI.: Beowulf Gives Hrothgar’s Gifts to Hygelac, and By Him Is Rewarded. of the Death of Hygelac and of Heardred His Son, and How Beowulf Is King of the Geats: the Worm Is First Told Of.
• XXXII.: How the Worm Came to the Howe, and How He Was Robbed of a Cup; and How He Fell On the Folk.
• XXXIII.: The Worm Burns Beowulf’s House, and Beowulf Gets Ready to Go Against Him. Beowulf’s Early Deeds In Battle With the Hetware Told Of.
• XXXIV.: Beowulf Goes Against the Worm. He Tells of Herebeald and HÆthcyn.
• XXXV.: Beowulf Tells of Past Feuds, and Bids Farewell to His Fellows. He Falls On the Worm, and the Battle of Them Begins.
• XXXVI.: Wiglaf Son of Weohstan Goes to the Help of Beowulf: NÆgling, Beowulf’s Sword, Is Broken On the Worm.
• XXXVII.: They Two Slay the Worm. Beowulf Is Wounded Deadly: He Biddeth Wiglaf Bear Out the Treasure.
• XXXVIII.: Beowulf Beholdeth the Treasure and Passeth Away.
• XXXIX.: Wiglaf Casteth Shame On Those Fleers.
• Xl.: Wiglaf Sendeth Tiding to the Host: the Words of the Messenger.
• Xli.: More Words of the Messenger. How He Fears the Swedes When They Wot of Beowulf Dead.
• Xlii.: They Go to Look On the Field of Deed.
• Xliii.: of the Burial of Beowulf.

XXXVI.

WIGLAF SON OF WEOHSTAN GOES TO THE HELP OF BEOWULF: NÆGLING, BEOWULF’S SWORD, IS BROKEN ON THE WORM.

• WIGLAF so hight he, the son of Weohstan,
• Lief linden-warrior, and lord of Scylfings,
• The kinsman of Aelfhere: and he saw his manlord
• Under his host-mask tholing the heat;
• He had mind of the honour that to him gave he erewhile,
• The wick-stead the wealthy of them, the Wægmundings,
• And the folk-rights each one which his father had owned.
• Then he might not withhold him, his hand gripp’d the round,
• Yellow linden; he tugg’d out withal the old sword,
• That was known among men for the heirloom of Eanmund,
• Ohthere’s son, unto whom in the strife did become,
• To the exile unfriended, Weohstan for the bane
• With the sword-edge, and unto his kinsmen bare off
• The helm the brown-brindled, the byrny beringed,
• And the old eoten-sword that erst Onela gave him;
• Were they his kinsman’s weed of the war,
• Host-fight-gear all ready. Of the feud nothing spake he,
• Though he of his brother the bairn had o’er-thrown.
• But the host-gear befretted he held many seasons,
• The bill and the byrny, until his own boy might
• Do him the earlship as did his ere-father.
• Amidst of the Geats then he gave him the war-weed
• Of all kinds unnumber’d, whenas he from life wended
• Old on the forth-way. Then was the first time
• For that champion the young that he the war-race
• With his high lord the famed e’er he should frame:
• Naught melted his mood, naught the loom of his kinsman
• Weaken’d in war-tide; that found out the Worm
• When they two together had gotten to come.
• Now spake out Wiglaf many words rightwise,
• And said to his fellows: all sad was his soul:
• I remember that while when we gat us the mead,
• And whenas we behight to the high lord of us
• In the beer-hall, e’en he who gave us these rings,
• That we for the war-gear one while would pay,
• If unto him thislike need e’er should befall,
• For these helms and hard swords. So he chose us from host
• To this faring of war by his very own will,
• Of glories he minded us, and gave me these gems here,
• Whereas us of gar-warriors he counted for good,
• And bold bearers of helms. Though our lord e’en for us
• This work of all might was of mind all alone
• Himself to be framing, the herd of the folk,
• Whereas most of all men he hath mightiness framed,
• Of deeds of all daring, yet now is the day come
• Whereon to our man-lord behoveth the main
• Of good battle-warriors; so thereunto wend we,
• And help we the host-chief, whiles that the heat be,
• The gleed-terror grim. Now of me wotteth God
• That to me is much liefer that that, my lykebody,
• With my giver of gold the gleed should engrip.
• Unmeet it methinketh that we shields should bear
• Back unto our own home, unless we may erst
• The foe fell adown and the life-days defend
• Of the king of the Weders. Well wot I hereof
• That his old deserts naught such were, that he only
• Of all doughty of Geats the grief should be bearing,
• Sink at strife. Unto us shall one sword be, one helm,
• One byrny and shield, to both of us common.
• Through the slaughter-reek waded he then, bare his war-helm
• To the finding his lord, and few words he quoth:
• O Beowulf the dear, now do thee all well,
• As thou in thy youthful life quothest of yore,
• That naught wouldst thou let, while still thou wert living,
• Thy glory fade out. Now shalt thou of deeds famed,
• The atheling of single heart, with all thy main deal
• For the warding thy life, and to stay thee I will.
• Then after these words all wroth came the Worm,
• The dire guest foesome, that second of whiles
• With fire-wellings flecked, his foes to go look on,
• The loath men. With flame was lightly then burnt up
• The board to the boss, and might not the byrny
• To the warrior the young frame any help yet.
• But so the young man under shield of his kinsman
• Went onward with valour, whenas his own was
• All undone with gleeds; then again the war-king
• Remember’d his glories, and smote with main might
• With his battle-bill, so that it stood in the head
• Need-driven by war-hate. Then asunder burst Nægling,
• Waxed weak in the war-tide, e’en Beowulf’s sword,
• The old and grey-marked; to him was not given
• That to him any whit might the edges of irons
• Be helpful in battle; over-strong was the hand
• Which every of swords, by the hearsay of me,
• With its swing over-wrought, when he bare unto strife
• A wondrous hard weapon; naught it was to him better.
• Then was the folk-scather for the third of times yet,
• The fierce fire-drake, all mindful of feud;
• He rac’d on that strong one, when was room to him given,
• Hot and battle-grim; he all the halse of him gripped
• With bitter-keen bones; all bebloody’d he waxed
• With the gore of his soul. Well’d in waves then the war-sweat.