In the fiftieth year of Beowulf's reign, however, a great terror
fell upon the land in the way of a monstrous fire-dragon, which
flew forth by night from its den in the rocks, lighting up the
blackness with its blazing breath, and burning houses and
homesteads, men and cattle, with the flames from its mouth. When
the news came to Beowulf that his people were suffering and dying,
and that no warrior dared to risk his life in an effort to deliver
the country from this deadly devastation, the aged king took up
his shield and sword and went forth to his last fight. At the
entrance of the dragon's cave Beowulf raised his voice and shouted
a furious defiance to the awesome guardian of the den. Roaring
hideously and napping his glowing wings together, the dragon
rushed forth and half flew, half sprang, on Beowulf. Then began a
fearful combat, which ended in Beowulf's piercing the dragon's
scaly armor and inflicting a mortal wound, but alas! in himself
being given a gash in the neck by his opponent's poisoned fangs
which resulted in his death. As he lay stretched on the ground,
his head supported by Wiglaf, an honored warrior who had helped in
the fight with the dragon, Beowulf roused himself to say, as he
grasped Wiglaf's hand:
"Thou must now look to the needs of the nation;
Here dwell I no longer, for Destiny calleth me!
Bid thou my warriors after my funeral pyre
Build me a burial-cairn high on the sea-cliff's head;
So that the seafarers Beowulf's Barrow
Henceforth shall name it, they who drive far and wide
Over the mighty flood their foamy keels.
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