at
crowded about it like unto doves that are driven by a storm. Now the
altar stood in an open court that was in the midst of the palace, with
a great bay-tree above it. So when she saw Priam, how he had girded
himself with armor as a youth, she cried to him and said, "What hath
bewitched thee, that thou girdest thyself with armor? It is not the
sword that shall help us this day; no, not though my own Hector were
here, but rather the gods and their altars. Come hither to us, for
here thou wilt be safe, or at the least wilt die with us."

So she made the old man sit down in the midst. But lo! there came
flying through the palace, Polites, his son, wounded to death by the
spear of Pyrrhus, and Pyrrhus close behind him. And he, even as he
came into the sight of his father and his mother, fell dead upon the
ground. But when King Priam saw it he contained not himself, but cried
aloud, "Now may the gods, if there be any justice in heaven,
recompense thee for this wickedness, seeing that thou hast not spared
to slay the son before his father's eyes. Great Achilles, whom thou
falsely callest thy sire, did not thus to Priam, though he was an
enemy, but reverenced right and truth and gave the body of Hector for
burial and sent me back to my city."

And as he spake the old man cast a spear, but aimless and without
force, which pierced not even the boss of the shield. Then said the
son of Achilles, "Go thou and tell my father of his unworthy son and
all these evils deeds. And that thou mayest tell him die!" And as he
spake he caught in his left hand the old man's white hair and dragged
him, slipping the while in the blood of his own son, to the altar, and
then, lifting his sword high for a blow, drove it to the hilt in the
old man's side. So King Priam, who had ruled mightily over many
peoples and countries in the land of Asia, was slain that night,
having first seen Troy burning about him and his citadel laid even
with the ground. So was his carcass cast out upon the earth, headless
and without a name.

BEOWULF AND GRENDEL

Long ago there ruled over the Danes a king called Hrothgar. He gained
success and glory in war, so that his loyal kinsmen willingly obeyed
him, and everything prospered in his land.

One day it came into his mind that he would build a princely
banquet-hall, where he might entertain both the young and old of his
kingdom; and he had the work widely made known to many a tribe over
the earth, so that