Beowulf

-- Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,

ye heroes in harness, which of us twain

better from battle-rush bear his wounds.

Wait ye the finish. The fight is not yours, Page 77

nor meet for any but me alone

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Post1

the light-of-battle1 was loath to bite, wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory. across the shield-wall: sank the king, a lighted torch and led the way.