"
Commanding the men who had accompanied him to remain upon the hillside,
leaving him to combat with the dragon alone, Beowulf went proudly forward,
shouting his battle-cry. Out rushed the dragon, full of deadly hate. His
fiery breath was stronger than the king had deemed it. Stroke upon stroke
he gave his enemy, who continued to cast forth his death-fire, so that
Beowulf stood girt with flames.
From afar, among the watching thanes, Wiglaf saw his monarch's peril.
"Comrades," he cried, "do you remember our promises to our king? Was it
for this he stirred us up to glorious deeds? Was it for this he heaped
gifts upon us? Let us go to his rescue. It is not right that we should see
our lord fall, and bear away our shields untouched!"
Rushing forward, he cried, "Beowulf, here am I! Now strike for thy life!
Thou hast said that thou never wouldst let thy fame depart from thee!"
Again the dragon came forth; again it enveloped its foeman in flames. The
linden shield of Wiglaf burned in his hands, and he sought shelter behind
Beowulf's shield of iron. Again and again Wiglaf smote the monster, and
when the flames burnt low, Beowulf seized his dirk and pierced the dragon
so that he fell dead.
The dragon lay dead, but Beowulf felt the poison in his wounds and knew
that he had not long to live. He commanded Wiglaf to bring forth the
treasure that he might gaze upon the hoard,--jewel work and twisted
gold,--that he had wrested from the fire-drake.
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