well armed — with a helmet which had been made by magic hands, by the celebrated dwarfs of Scandinavian mythology, which bade defiance to every weapon; and with a sword no less magical, called Hrunting, – and having addressed a few words to Hrothgar, whom he might see no more (Canto XXII.), the hero plunged into the deep abyss. The mother fiend, from her fathomless haunts, quickly perceived that some mortal had entered the lake. She ascended, and dragged him to the very bottom. Here it might be supposed his life would soon be terminated; but, no! he found, to his surprise, that the element had no effect on him, and that the assaults of the monsters by whom the shefiend was defended were as innocent. He was now, however, in the place where he saw the fire-light brightly shine with its deep rays;' and where his sword, Hrunting, that had never yet failed him, proved of no avail,- no more than it would on the magic hide of Grendel. In anger, he cast it from him, and renewed the contest with his arms alone. But though he grappled powerfully, and for a long period, his strength, at last, began to give way — probably, because the old hag was in her natural element, and she struck him a tremendous blow, which must have been fatal had nothing but his armour, excellent as it was, defended him but he had also the protection of fate; for (Canto XXIII.), at this critical moment, a huge sword descended the flood:

-

"Eald sweord Eotenisc,"

"An old Jutish sword," for Eotenisc may be so rendered; and by the Jutes we are to understand the old magic race of the giants. "Beowulf looked at the weapon; but it was greater than any other man could have wielded in battle: good and shining, it was truly a giant's work." He instantly seized it, and wielded it with so much vigour, that he soon drove it through the old beldame's neck, and ended her accursed existence. At this moment 66 a light suddenly shone, light from

below, as if the glorious lamp of heaven were there." The victor, now enlightened in his path, sought on every side for Grendel, whose corpse he found. One blow with his magic weapon severed the head from the body; and the blood which flowed from it, and from the body of the mother, rose to the surface of the lake, making both king and warriors naturally fear that all was over with their champion. In this conviction Hrothgar sorrowfully returned "to the banquet;" but Beowulf's faithful companions remained, and had soon the gratification to perceive the victor emerge, with the monster's head, from the deep abyss. A new portent amazed them: the very sword which he had used, and which was dripping with blood, melted such was the force of the venom - and fell, in a liquid state, on the ground, nothing remaining except the hilt. On every side the enchantment was finished; the hurricane subsided; the dashing waves fell to complete calmness. The warriors now returned to the court of Hrothgar, four being required to bear the head of Grendel, which was triumphantly borne into the " hall of mead.” The six following cantos are occupied with the rejoicings of the king, his grateful presents, his festive entertainments, and the return of Beowulf to the court of Higlac, where, of course, endless feasting awaited him. He relates to his liege lord his late exploits, not forgetting to extol himself; and he is rewarded by the gift of an earldom, with 7000 vassals. In Canto XXX. we find that, on the death of Higlac and his son, who appear to have fallen in battle, Beowulf was called to the throne of the Scylfings.*

It might here be expected that the poem would end: but, no! there yet remain thirteen cantos, or about one third of the whole; a portion less poetical, perhaps, but in the same wild strain, in the same perfect accordance with the Scaldic manner. But the hero's next adventure is reserved to the fiftieth year of his reign,

* Thorkelin's Beowulf, p. 58-136 Saxon text in Conybeare, down to

when, as he must necessarily be weakened by age, he can suffer no great dishonour by being killed. His reign was prosperous and happy, until "the wanderer of the gloomy night, the fire dragon came." This dragon had a den in some wild place not far from Beowulf's capital, a barrow, defended not only by it, but by a supernatural everlasting fire, and filled with countless treasures, over which the monster brooded.* During "300 winters the fire dragon had been peaceable, but some of Beowulf's subjects having taken advantage of its sleep to plunder a portion of the treasures, the indignant monster began to make nocturnal depredations to the very walls of the city, laying waste the country, and destroying every living thing that fell in his way. Nay, the fire which he breathed threatened to melt the very walls, as it had already consumed the fairest "mead-hall” of the king. In this emergency, cooped up as the inhabitants were within towers which promised, ere long, to avail them little, Beowulf resolved to deliver them, or to perish in the attempt.

"All dauntless then, and stern beneath his shield,
The hero rose, and toward the rocky cliff
Bore gallantly in helm and mail of proof;
In one man's strength (not such the coward's art)
Confiding. Now that fabric might he spy,
He that so oft had in the crash of arms
Done goodly service.

Firm rose the stone-wrought vault, a living stream
Burst from the barrow, red with ceaseless flame,.
That turret glow'd; nor lived there soul of man
Might tempt the dread abyss, nor feel its rage.
So watch'd the fire-drake o'er his hoard- and now
Deep from his labouring breast the indignant Goth
Gave utterance to the war cry. Loud and clear
Beneath the hoar stone rang the defeaning sound,

*The classical reader will recollect the expedition of the Argonauts. That serpents or dragons watched over exhaustless treasures was the universal belief of the Scandinavian natives, whose cradle was probably the region where Jason landet. See Saxo Grammaticus, lib. ii. The same opinion was common to the Egyptians, the Persians, the Arabians, and other nations.

And strife uprose:

the watcher of the gold

Had mark'd the voice of man.

First from his lair,

Shaking firm earth, and vomiting, as he strode,
A foul and fiery blast, the monster came.
Yet stood beneath the barrow's lofty side
The Goth's unshaken champion, and opposed
To that infuriate foe his full-orb'd shield.

Then the good war king bared his trenchant blade;
Tried was its edge of old, the stranger's dread,
And keen to work the foul aggressor's woe."

A contest commenced, when

"The kingly Goth

Rear'd high his sword and smote the grisly foe;
But the dark steel upon the unyielding mail
Fell impotent, nor served its master's need,
Now at his utmost peril. Nor less that stroke
To madd'ning mood the barrow's warder roused;
Out burst the flame of strife, the blaze of war
Beam'd horribly; still no triumph won the Goth,
Still fail'd his keen brand in the unequal fray
(So wonted not that tried and trusty steel);
Now fain would Egtheow's gallant son retreat,
And change that battle-plain for tower and town."

The royal attendants, instead of assisting their master, either fled, or continued..inactive spectators. One of them, however, Wiglaf, when he thought of the rich domain he had received from the king, and the vassal homage which he owed, resolved, as in duty bound, to aid him. He seized his helmet, his shield, and his sword, and, rushing through the fiery stream, bid the king perceive that his faithful thane was present, while he firmly assailed the dragon. In the end, the king pierced the monster to the heart; but, in the conflict, he had received a wound, which now burned furiously, and clearly announced his immediate death. In his last moments, however, he was gratified with the boundless treasures which were found by Wiglaf in the barrow. His last words were characteristic:

"Old am I now, but in my youth have won

And shared the treasured gold. Now thanks be thine

Eternal Father, glorious Lord of all!

Thanks from thy creature's lips, for that his eye
Hath seen those hoarded spoils; for that his hand,
Ere yet thy doom o'ertake him, hath achieved
To his loved people's weal this rich bequest.

"And now

Short while I tarry here when I am gone,
Bid them upon yon headland's summit rear
A lofty mound by Rona's sea-girt cliff;
So shall my people hold to after-times
Their chieftain's memory, and the mariners
That drive afar to sea, oft as they pass,

Shall point to Beowulf's tomb."

After presenting Wiglaf, whom he nominated his heir, with the ornaments of royalty, and his own ar'mour, he bade him reign prosperously:

"For thou alone art left of all our kin,

-

The voice of Heaven to their eternal doom,

Save thee, hath summon'd all the Scylding's race;
And, lo! I join my fathers."

The remaining cantos are occupied with the election of Wiglaf, the funeral of Beowulf, and the description of the treasures left by the fire-drake.*

Such is an extremely brief, and, therefore, imperfect view of this very curious poem. That it should so long have remained unnoticed, containing as it does not only imaginative descriptions of a very high order, but perpetual allusions to the ancient opinions of our Saxon ancestors, might surprise us, if we did not know that hitherto scarcely any attention has been paid to their literature. The Record Commission may slowly accumulate useless rubbish-meagre dates and facts, which even the antiquary will not consult, but neither government nor people, neither university nor literary club, will bring to light the mouldering relics of other days. Many poems still remain, among which the

* Thorkelin's Beowulf, p. 137-236. Conybeare's Illustrations, p. 65-79.