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Beowulf

Half a century
He ruled it, well; until One began
- the king had grown grey in the guardianship of the land,
to put forth his power in the pitch black night times
- the hoard guarding Dragon of a high barrow
raised above the moor
In another age an unknown man
Brows bent, had brought and hid here
The beloved hoard.  The whole race
death rapt and of the ring of earls
One left alive; living on in that place
Heavy with friend-loss, the hoard-guard
Waited the same weird.  His wit acknowledged
That the treasures gathered and guarded over the years
Were his for the briefest while
…….
So the sole survivor, in sorrowful mood
Bewailed his grief; he wandered cheerless
Through the days and nights until death’s flood
Reached to his heart
The Ravager of the night
The burner who has sought out barrows from of old
Then found this hoard of undefended joy
The smooth evil dragon swims through the gloom
Enfolded in flame; the folk of that country
Hold him in dread.  He is doomed to seek out
Hoards in the ground, and guard for an age there
The heathen gold; much good does it do him!