Journal 3

The epic closes on a somber, elegiac note—a note of mourning. What words or images contribute to this tone?

The epic closes on a somber, elegiac note. The end of the Beowulf Epic ends with pride, sadness, and the inspiration that Beowulf gave his people. There are several statements that some the mourning of what’s about to happen with Beowulf. The mourning began when Wiglaf found Beowulf bleeding to death. Knowing that his death was coming Beowulf gazed sadly at the gold and gave his final wishes. After he dies, the past memories of Beowulf and how he risked his life to make a community a better pace to live in starts to come back. He gave the opportunity to his community to hope again and not live in fear. He was one of the earliest heroes to be created in English literature and his story is the foundation of all the heroic stories created today. He sacrificed his own life and happiness for the people. He gave meaning to the true definition of what heroic means.

Journal 2

Beowulf is the archetype of the dragon slayer, the hero who faces death in order to save a threatened community. Does Beowulf remind you of any heroes in real life in fiction, or in the movies today? What characteristics do the heroes share?

After reading Beowulf I come to see bits of Beowulf in all heroes. But I have chosen Superman to compare with Beowulf. The first trait they share is the need for them to save the city. Superman has to save his community time and time again from monsters of evil. Beowulf and Superman both have plenty of confidence and battle evil even if the odds aren’t in their favor. Beowulf never backs down from a challenge. He follows Grendel and promises to put an end to Grendel’s destruction of Denmark. They both end up winning their battles. The difference is Beowulf is a human that is able to die and at the end he eventually does face his death. Superman can not die but does have a weakness, that is tested at times but never catches up with him.

Riddle

Old and weary I work sifting through the sands of time
On a plane with 12 soldiers, who stay at their post
Constantly clicking, counting, these men who stay still
Five fingers I forfeit from my forlorn hands
Still I work for work I must
From my pedestal I look out from an eyeless face
As time marches on at my pace.