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Beowulf

At the hour shaped for him Scyld departed
The hero crossed into the keeping of his Lord
They carried him out to the edge of the sea
His sworn arms-fellows, as he had himself desired them
While he wielded his words, Warden of the Scyldings
Beloved folk-founder; long had he ruled

A boat with a ringed neck rode in the haven
Icy, out eager, the atheling’s vessel
And there they laid out their lord and master
Dealer of wound gold, in the waist of the ship
In majesty by the mast.  A mound of treasures from far countries was fetched aboard her
And it is said that no boat was ever more bravely fitted out
With the weapons of a warrior, war accoutrement
Swords and body armour, on his breast were set
Treasures and trappings to travel with him
On his far faring into the flood’s sway

This hoard was not less great than the gifts he had had
From those who at the outset had adventured him
Over seas, alone, a small child

High over head they hoisted and fixed
A gold signum, gave him to the flood
Let the seas take him, with sour hearts
And mourning mood.  Men under heaven’s
Shifting skies, though skilled in counsel
Cannot say surely who unshipped that cargo