The Spoils and the Farewell

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?

The Spoils

Together, Wiglaf and Beowulf kill the dragon, but the old king is mortally wounded. As a last request, Beowulf asks Wiglaf to bring him the treasure that the dragon was guarding.

Then Wexstan's son went in, as quickly

As he could, did as the dying Beowulf

Asked, entered the inner darkness

Of the tower, went with his mail shirt and his sword.

Flushed with victory he groped his way,

A brave young warrior, and suddenly saw

Piles of gleaming gold, precious

Gems, scattered on the floor, cups

And bracelets, rusty old helmets, beautifully

Made but rotting with no hands to rub

And polish them. They lay where the dragon left them;

It had flown in the darkness, once, before fighting

Its final battle. (So gold can easily

Triumph, defeat the strongest of men,

No matter how deep it is hidden!) And he saw,

Hanging high above, a golden

Banner, woven by the best of weavers

And beautiful. And over everything he saw

A strange light, shining everywhere,

On walls and floor and treasure. Nothing

Moved, no other monsters appeared;

He took what he wanted, all the treasures

That pleased his eye, heavy plates

And golden cups and the glorious banner,

Loaded his arms with all they could hold.

Beowulf's dagger, his iron blade,

Had finished the fire-spitting terror

That once protected tower and treasures

Alike; the gray-bearded lord of the Geats

Had ended those flying, burning raids Forever.

Then Wiglaf went back, anxious

To return while Beowulf was alive, to bring him

Treasure they'd won together. He ran,

Hoping his wounded king, weak

And dying, had not left the world too soon.

Then he brought their treasure to Beowulf, and found

His famous king bloody, gasping

For breath. But Wiglaf sprinkled water

Over his lord, until the words

Deep in his breast broke through and were heard.

Beholding the treasure he spoke, haltingly:

"For this, this gold, these jewels, I thank

Our Father in Heaven, Ruler of the Earth—

For all of this, that His grace has given me,

Allowed me to bring to my people while breath

Still came to my lips. I sold my life

For this treasure, and I sold it well. Take

What I leave, Wiglaf, lead my people,

Help them; my time is gone. Have

The brave Geats build me a tomb,

When the funeral flames have burned me, and build it

Here, at the water's edge, high

On this spit of land, so sailors can see

This tower, and remember my name, and call it

Beowulf's tower, and boats in the darkness

And mist, crossing the sea, will know it."

Then that brave king gave the golden

Necklace from around his throat to Wiglaf,

Gave him his gold-covered helmet, and his rings,

And his mail shirt, and ordered him to use them well:

"You're the last of all our far-flung family.

Fate has swept our race away,

Taken warriors in their strength and led them

To the death that was waiting.

And now I follow them."

The old man's mouth was silent, spoke

No more, had said as much as it could;

He would sleep in the fire, soon. His soul

Left his flesh, flew to glory.

The Farewell

Wiglaf denounces the soldiers who deserted Beowulf in his combat with the dragon. The Geats burn their king's body on a great funeral pyre and bitterly lament his death.

Then the Geats built the tower, as Beowulf

Had asked, strong and tall, so sailors

Could find it from far and wide; working

For ten long days they made his monument,

Sealed his ashes in walls as straight

And high as wise and willing hands

Could raise them. And the riches he and Wiglaf

Had won from the dragon, rings, necklaces,

Ancient, hammered armor—all

The treasures they'd taken were left there, too,

Silver and jewels buried in the sandy

Ground, back in the earth, again

And forever hidden and useless to men.

And then twelve of the bravest Geats

Rode their horses around the tower,

Telling their sorrow, telling stories

Of their dead king and his greatness, his glory,

Praising him for heroic deeds, for a life

As noble as his name. So should all men

Raise up words for their lords, warm

With love, when their shield and protector leaves

His body behind, sends his soul

On high. And so Beowulf's followers

Rode, mourning their beloved leader,

Crying that no better king had ever

Lived, no prince so mild, no man

So open to his people, so deserving of praise.