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The brooklet's wave was hot with fire. Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage, the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo; stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing and clear his cry 'neath the cliff-rocks gray. The hoard-guard heard a human voice; his rage was enkindled. No respite now for pact of peace!
When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled. O'er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found footprint of foe who so far had gone in his hidden craft by the creature's head. So may the undoomed easily flee evils and exile, if only he gain the grace of The Wielder! That warden of gold o'er the ground went seeking, greedy to find the man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.
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