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"Order my troop to construct a barrowon a headland on the coast, after my pyre has cooled.It will loom on the horizon at Hronesnessand be a reminder among my people -so that in coming times crews under sailwill call it Beowulf's Barrow, as they steerships across the wide and shrouded waters."Then the king in his great-heartedness unclaspedthe collar of gold from his neck and gave itto the young thane, telling him to useit and the warshirt and the gilded helmet well."You are the last of us, the only one leftof the Waegmundings. Fate swept us away,sent my whole brave high-born clanto their final doom. Now I must follow them."That was the warrior's last word.He had no more to confide. The furious heatOf the pyre would assail him. His soul fled from his breastTo its destined place among the steadfast ones.

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