Loathsome is that earth-house, And worms shall divide thee. Thus thou art laid, Who will come to thee, Who will ever see How that house pleaseth thee; Who will ever open The door for thee, And descend after thee; For soon thou art loathsome And hateful to see. BEOWULF'S EXPEDITION TO HEORT. FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON. [ONE of the oldest and most important remains of Anglo-Saxon literature is the epic poeni of "Beowulf." Its age is unknown; but it comes from a very distant and hoar antiquity; somewhere between the seventh and tenth centuries. It is like a piece of ancient armour, rusty and battered, yet strong. The style, likewise, is simple,-perhaps one should say, austere.] THUS then, much care-worn, The son of Healfden Sorrowed evermore, Nor might the prudent hero His woes avert. The war was too hard, Too loath and longsome, Good among the Goths, In might the strongest, Of this life, Noble and stalwarth. The mighty monarch, Of those that keenest He might find, Some fifteen men. The sea-wood sought he. The warrior showed, The land-marks, And first went forth. The ship was on the waves, Boat under the cliffs. The barons ready To the prow mounted. The streams they whirled T On the naked breast The men shoved off, Then went over the sea-waves, Hurried by the wind, The ship with foamy neck, Till about one hour The shore-cliffs shining, And broad sea-noses. On the land went, The sea-bark moored, Their mail-sarks shook, Their war-weeds. God thanked they, That to them the sea-journey Easy had been. Then from the wall beheld The warden of the Scyldings, He who the sea-cliffs Had in his keeping, Bear o'er the balks The war-weapons speedily. Him the doubt disturbed In his mind's thought, His warden's staff in hand "What men are ye War-gear wearing, Host in harness, Who thus the brown keel Over the water-street Leading come Hither over the sea? I these boundaries As shore-warden hold; That in the land of the Danes Nothing loathsome With a ship-crew Scathe us might. Ne'er saw I mightier Than is your own, Not seldom this warrior Is in weapons distinguished; Your origin know, Ere ye forth As false spies One-fold thought. To make known Whence your coming may be." THE SOUL'S COMPLAINT AGAINST THE BODY. MUCH it behoveth Each one of mortals, That he his soul's journey In himself ponder, How deep it may be. The bonds he breaketh Long it is thenceforth The soul shall come The soul, to find The body That it erst dwelt in ; Three hundred winters: Unless ere that worketh The Eternal Lord, The end of the world. Crieth then, so care-worn, With cold utterance, |