The Last Battle

1. MAKE TEN CONNECTIONS TO THE POEM.

2. ASK FIVE QUESTIONS OF THE POEM.

3. With the highlighter HIGHLIGHT TEN VOCABULARY WORDS YOU DON’T KNOW.

4. INFER THE MEANING OF THE WORDS YOU DON’T KNOW.

5. UNDERLINE THREE QUOTES THAT REVEAL CHARACTERIZATION. WHAT INFORMATION ABOUT CHARACTERIZATION DO THESE LINES REAVEAL.

After being honored by Hrothgar, Beowulf and his fellow Geats return home. He is welcomed by the king, his uncle Higlac, and later becomes king himself when Higlac and his son have died. Beowulf rules Geatland for fifty years. Then a dragon menaces his kingdom. Although he is an old man, Beowulf determines to slay the beast. Before going into battle, he tells the men who have accompanied him about the history of the royal house and his exploits in its service.

And Beowulf uttered his final boast:

"I've never known fear, as a youth I fought

In endless battles. I am old, now,

But I will fight again, seek fame still,

If the dragon hiding in his tower dares

To face me."

Then he said farewell to his followers,

Each in his turn, for the last time:

"I'd use no sword, no weapon, if this beast

Could be killed without it, crushed to death

Like Grendel, gripped in my hands and torn

Limb from limb. But his breath will be burning

Hot, poison will pour from his tongue.

I feel no shame, with shield and sword

And armor, against this monster: when he comes to me

I mean to stand, not run from, his shooting

Flames, stand till fate decides

Which of us wins. My heart is firm,

My hands calm: I need no hot

Words. Wait for me close by, my friends.

We shall see, soon, who will survive

This bloody battle, stand when the fighting

Is done. No one else could do

What I mean to, here, no man but me

Could hope to defeat this monster. No one

Could try. And this dragon's treasure, his gold

And everything hidden in that tower, will be mine

Or war will sweep me to a bitter death!"

Then Beowulf rose, still brave, still strong,

And with his shield at his side, and a mail shirt on his breast,

Strode calmly, confidently, toward the tower, under

The rocky cliffs: no coward could have walked there!

And then he who'd endured dozens of desperate

Battles, who'd stood boldly while swords and shields

Clashed, the best of kings, saw

Huge stone arches and felt the heat

Of the dragon's breath, flooding down,

Through the hidden entrance, too hot for anyone

To stand, a streaming current of fire

And smoke that blocked all passage. And the Geats'

Lord and leader, angry, lowered

His sword and roared out a battle cry,

A call so loud and clear that it reached through

The hoary rock, hung in the dragon's

Ear. The beast rose, angry,

Knowing a man had come—and then nothing

But war could have followed. Its breath came first.

A steaming cloud pouring from the stone,

Then the earth itself shook. Beowulf

Swung his shield into place, held it

In front of him, facing the entrance. The dragon

Coiled and uncoiled, its heart urging it

Into battle. Beowulf's ancient. sword

Was waiting, unsheathed, his sharp and gleaming

Blade. The beast came closer; both of them

Were ready, each set on slaughter. The Geats'

Great prince stood firm, unmoving, prepared

Behind his high shield, waiting in his shining

Armor. The monster came quickly toward him,

Pouring out fire and smoke, hurrying

To its fate. Flames beat at the iron

Shield, and for a time it held, protected

Beowulf as he'd planned; then it began to melt,

And for the first time in his life that famous prince

Fought with fate against him, with glory

Denied him. He knew it, but he raised his sword

And struck at the dragon's scaly hide.

The ancient blade broke, bit into

The monster's skin, drew blood, but cracked

And failed him before it went deep enough, helped him

Less than he needed. The dragon leaped

With pain, thrashed and beat at him, spouting

Murderous flames, spreading them everywhere.

And the Geats' ring-giver did not boast of glorious

Victories in other wars: his weapon

Had failed him, deserted him, now when he needed it

Most, that excellent sword. Edgetho's

Famous son stared at death,

Unwilling to leave this world, to exchange it

For a dwelling in some distant place—a journey

Into darkness that all men must make, as death

Ends their few brief hours on earth.

Quickly, the dragon came at him, encouraged

As Beowulf fell back; its breath flared,

And he suffered, wrapped around in swirling

Flames—a king, before, but now

A beaten warrior. None of his comrades

Came to him, helped him, his brave and noble

Followers; they ran for their lives, fled

Deep in a wood. And only one of them

Remained, stood there, miserable, remembering,

As a good man must, what kinship should mean.

His name was Wiglaf, he was Wexstan's son

And a good soldier; his family had been Swedish,

Once.. Watching Beowulf, he could see

How his king was suffering, burning. Remembering

Everything his lord and cousin had given him,

Armor and gold and the great estates

Wexstan's family enjoyed, Wiglaf's

Mind was made up; he raised his yellow

Shield and drew his sword—an ancient

Weapon that had once belonged to Onela's

Nephew, and, that Wexstan had won, killing

The prince when he fled from Sweden, sought safety

With Herdred, and found death.3 And Wiglaf's father

Had carried the dead man's armor, and his sword,

To Onela, and the king had said nothing, only

Given him armor and sword and all,

Everything his rebel nephew had owned

And lost when he left this life. And Wexstan

Had kept those shining gifts, held them

For years, waiting for his son to use them,

Wear them as honorably and well as once

His father had done; then Wexstan died

And Wiglaf was his heir, inherited treasures

And weapons and land. He'd never worn

That armor, fought with that sword, until Beowulf

Called him to his side, led him into war.

But his soul did not melt, his sword was strong;

The dragon discovered his courage, and his weapon,

When the rush of battle brought them together.

And Wiglaf, his heart heavy, uttered

The kind of words his comrades deserved:

"I remember how we sat in the mead-hall, drinking

And boasting of how brave we'd be when Beowulf

Needed us, he who gave us these swords

And armor: all of us swore to repay him,

When the time came, kindness for kindness

—With our lives, if he needed them. He allowed us to join him,

Chose us from all his great army, thinking

Our boasting words had some 'weight, believing

Our promises, trusting our swords. He took us

For soldiers, for men. He meant to kill

This monster himself, our mighty king,

Fight this battle alone, and unaided,

As in the days when his strength and daring dazzled

Men's eyes. But those days are over and gone

And now our lord must lean on younger Arms.

And we must go to him, while angry

Flames burn at his flesh, help

Our glorious king! By almighty God,

I'd rather burn myself than see

Flames swirling around my lord.

And who are we to carry home

Our shields before we've slain his enemy

And ours, to, run back to our homes with Beowulf

So hard-pressed here? I swear that nothing

He ever did deserved an end

Like this, dying miserably and alone,

Butchered by this savage beast: we swore

That these swords and armor were each for us all!"

Then he ran to his king, crying encouragement

As he dove through the dragon's deadly fumes.