| |
| ’MID the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant, | |
| old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof, | |
| warriors’ heirloom, weapon unmatched, | |
| —save only ’twas more than other men | |
| to bandy-of-battle could bear at all— | 5 |
| as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen. | |
| Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings’ chieftain, | |
| bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword, | |
| reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote | |
| that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard, | 10 |
| her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through | |
| that fated-one’s flesh: to floor she sank. | |
| Bloody the blade: he was blithe of his deed. | |
| Then blazed forth light. ’Twas bright within | |
| as when from the sky there shines unclouded | 15 |
| heaven’s candle. The hall he scanned. | |
| By the wall then went he; his weapon raised | |
| high by its hilt the Hygelac-thane, | |
| angry and eager. That edge was not useless | |
| to the warrior now. He wished with speed | 20 |
| Grendel to guerdon for grim raids many, | |
| for the war he waged on Western-Danes | |
| oftener far than an only time, | |
| when of Hrothgar’s hearth-companions | |
| he slew in slumber, in sleep devoured, | 25 |
| fifteen men of the folk of Danes, | |
| and as many others outward bore, | |
| his horrible prey. Well paid for that | |
| the wrathful prince! For now prone he saw | |
| Grendel stretched there, spent with war, | 30 |
| spoiled of life, so scathed had left him | |
| Heorot’s battle. The body sprang far | |
| when after death it endured the blow, | |
| sword-stroke savage, that severed its head. | |
| Soon, 1 then, saw the sage companions | 35 |
| who waited with Hrothgar, watching the flood, | |
| that the tossing waters turbid grew, | |
| blood-stained the mere. Old men together, | |
| hoary-haired, of the hero spake; | |
| the warrior would not, they weened, again, | 40 |
| proud of conquest, come to seek | |
| their mighty master. To many it seemed | |
| the wolf-of-the-waves had won his life. | |
| The ninth hour came. The noble Scyldings | |
| left the headland; homeward went | 45 |
| the gold-friend of men. 2 But the guests sat on, | |
| stared at the surges, sick in heart, | |
| and wished, yet weened not, their winsome lord | |
| again to see. | |
| Now that sword began, | 50 |
| from blood of the fight, in battle-droppings, 3 | |
| war-blade, to wane: ’twas a wondrous thing | |
| that all of it melted as ice is wont | |
| when frosty fetters the Father loosens, | |
| unwinds the wave-bonds, wielding all | 55 |
| seasons and times: the true God he! | |
| Nor took from that dwelling the duke of the Geats | |
| precious things, though a plenty he saw, | |
| save only the head and that hilt withal | |
| blazoned with jewels: the blade had melted, | 60 |
| burned was the bright sword, her blood was so hot, | |
| so poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within there. | |
| Soon he was swimming who safe saw in combat | |
| downfall of demons; up-dove through the flood. | |
| The clashing waters were cleanséd now, | 65 |
| waste of waves, where the wandering fiend | |
| her life-days left and this lapsing world. | |
| Swam then to strand the sailors’-refuge, | |
| sturdy-in-spirit, of sea-booty glad, | |
| of burden brave he bore with him. | 70 |
| Went then to greet him, and God they thanked, | |
| the thane-band choice of their chieftain blithe, | |
| that safe and sound they could see him again. | |
| Soon from the hardy one helmet and armor | |
| deftly they doffed: now drowsed the mere, | 75 |
| water ’neath welkin, with war-blood stained. | |
| Forth they fared by the footpaths thence, | |
| merry at heart the highways measured, | |
| well-known roads. Courageous men | |
| carried the head from the cliff by the sea, | 80 |
| an arduous task for all the band, | |
| the firm in fight, since four were needed | |
| on the shaft-of-slaughter 4 strenuously | |
| to bear to the gold-hall Grendel’s head. | |
| So presently to the palace there | 85 |
| foemen fearless, fourteen Geats, | |
| marching came. Their master-of-clan | |
| mighty amid them the meadow-ways trod. | |
| Strode then within the sovran thane | |
| fearless in fight, of fame renowned, | 90 |
| hardy hero, Hrothgar to greet. | |
| And next by the hair into hall was borne | |
| Grendel’s head, where the henchmen were drinking, | |
| an awe to clan and queen alike, | |
| a monster of marvel: the men looked on. | 95 |
