Page:Gummere (1909) The Oldest English Epic.djvu/162

146 trothbreakers, cowards, ten together, fearing before to flourish a spear in the sore distress of their sovran lord. Now in their shame their shields they carried, armor of fight, where the old man lay; and they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat at his sovran’s shoulder, shieldsman good, to wake him with water. Nowise it availed. Though well he wished it, in world no more could he barrier life for that leader-of-battles nor baffle the will of all-wielding God. Doom of the Lord was law o’er the deeds of every man, as it is to-day. Grim was the answer, easy to get, from the youth for those that had yielded to fear! Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan,— mournful he looked on those men unloved:— “Who sooth will speak, can say indeed that the ruler who gave you golden rings and the harness of war in which ye stand —for he at ale-bench often-times bestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate, lord to liegemen, the likeliest gear which near or far he could find to give,— threw away and wasted these weeds of battle, on men who failed when the foemen came!