The Dragon

Now will I in another song make known,
Reveal in words, with verse-craft, from my mind
About a race of reptile, the mighty dragon.

He often is found fierce and grim of heart,
Not by their wish, to travelers of the hills
To every man; this flyer of the wind-streams
Has got the name of Winged King.

His countenance is like the rugged stone
As if a greying sheet of rock lay
Slumbered on the mountain slope,
So that mountain-climbers made to think
That they walk on solid stone with their feet;

And then they fasten up their living bones
With ropes on that stone which is no stone,
Tie the life knot at the jagged rock,
And so onto the slope up they go
In cheerful spirits, while their knots remain
Fast to the rock, encircled by the winds

Atop weary-spirited the climbers
Set up their camp, they have no thought of danger,
And on that rock plateau they start kindling flames,
Make a great fire; the heroes are in joy.
Though tired in spirit, longing for their rest.

Then, skilled in evil-doing, he perceives
The travellers are firmly settled on him,
Live in their camp delighting in good weather,

And suddenly into fiery flame
The creature of the mountain drenches them
Rapidly upwards, visits the cloud-bed,
And in that mist of death sets men to fire.

Inspired by the Anglo-Saxon poem The Whale as translated by Richard Hamer, and the archdragon in Dark Souls 3.