(Beowulf has been mortally wounded by the dragon’s flame)

The brave king spoke,

The old man in sorrow. He looked on the gold:

“I say thanks in words to the Lord of all,

The glorious King, eternal Prince,

For the treasure that I here look upon —

That I was able, for my subjects,

Before my death-day to gain such a thing.

Now I at the treasure-hoard have sold

My old life’s leavings; yet see to

The people’s needs. I cannot linger.

Instruct the famed ones to build a barrow,

Bright after the burning, at the sea-cape’s end.

It shall as remembrance to my people

High tower over Hronesnaess,

That seafarers later may call it

Beowulf’s barrow, where the tall ships

From far drive over the dark of the flood.”

He took from his neck the collar of gold,

The bold one; gave it to his thane,

To the young warrior, the gold-wrought helm,

Chain mail and ring, bade him use them well.

“You are the last one of our line,

The Waegmundings. Fate swept away

All of my kin by doom’s decree,

The earls, in their valor. I must follow them.”

That was the old man’s final word

From his heart-thoughts, before he chose

The pyre, the hot war-flames. From his breast

His soul went seeking the fate of the just.

(lines 2,792–2,820)

— translated by Donald Mace Williams