Aloft shall uplift him at Whale-ness for ever,
That it the sea-goers sithence may hote
Beowulf's Howe, e'en they that the high-ships
Over the flood-mists drive from afar.
Did off from his halse then a ring was all golden,
The king the great-hearted, and gave to his thane,
To the spear-warrior young his war-helm gold-brindled,
The ring and the byrny, and bade him well brook them:
Thou art the end-leaving of all of our kindred,
The Wægmundings; Weird now hath swept all away