'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
Bytuene Mershe and Averil
When spray biginneth to springe,
The lutel foul hath hire wyl
Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,
leader beloved, and long he ruled
in fame with all folk, since his father had gone
away from the world, till awoke an heir,
Mary Wryte and her mother
Her father ande brother--
Was Alle of them drowned,
Inn Bvckstones povnde.
Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste.