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| THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought |
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| his rest of the evening,—as ofttime had happened |
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|
| when Grendel guarded that golden hall, |
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| evil wrought, till his end drew nigh, |
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| slaughter for sins. 'Twas seen and told |
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|
| how an avenger survived the fiend, |
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| as was learned afar. The livelong time |
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|
| after that grim fight, Grendel's mother, |
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| monster of women, mourned her woe. |
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|
| She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters, |
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| cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down |
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| with edge of the sword his only brother, |
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| his father's offspring: outlawed he fled, |
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| marked with murder, from men's delights |
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|
| warded the wilds.—There woke from him |
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| such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who, |
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| war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found |
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|
| a warrior watching and waiting the fray, |
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|
| with whom the grisly one grappled amain. |
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|
| But the man remembered his mighty power, |
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| the glorious gift that God had sent him, |
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| in his Maker's mercy put his trust |
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| for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe, |
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|
| felled the fiend, who fled abject, |
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|
| reft of joy, to the realms of death, |
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|
| mankind's foe. And his mother now, |
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|
| gloomy and grim, would go that quest |
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|
| of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge. |
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|
| To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes |
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|
| slept in the hall. Too soon came back |
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|
| old ills of the earls, when in she burst, |
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|
| the mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror, |
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|
| e'en as terror of woman in war is less, |
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|
| might of maid, than of men in arms |
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|
| when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard, |
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|
| sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm, |
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|
| crested, with keen blade carves amain. |
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|
| Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn, |
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|
| the swords on the settles,[1] and shields a-many |
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|
| firm held in hand: nor helmet minded |
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| nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized. |
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|
| Haste was hers; she would hie afar |
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|
| and save her life when the liegemen saw her. |
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|
| Yet a single atheling up she seized |
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|
| fast and firm, as she fled to the moor. |
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|
| He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest, |
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|
| of trusty vassals betwixt the seas, |
|
|
| whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous, |
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|
| in battle brave.—Nor was Beowulf there; |
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|
| another house had been held apart, |
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|
| after giving of gold, for the Geat renowned.— |
|
|
| Uproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed, |
|
|
| blood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned, |
|
|
| dole in the dwellings: 'twas dire exchange |
|
|
| where Dane and Geat were doomed to give |
|
|
| the lives of loved ones. Long-tried king, |
|
|
| the hoary hero, at heart was sad |
|
|
| when he knew his noble no more lived, |
|
|
| and dead indeed was his dearest thane. |
|
|
| To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste, |
|
|
| dauntless victor. As daylight broke, |
|
|
| along with his earls the atheling lord, |
|
|
| with his clansmen, came where the king abode |
|
|
| waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All |
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|
| would turn this tale of trouble and woe. |
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|
| Strode o'er floor the famed-in-strife, |
|
|
| with his hand-companions,—the hall resounded,— |
|
|
| wishing to greet the wise old king, |
|
|
| Ingwines' lord; he asked if the night |
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| had passed in peace to the prince's mind. |
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|
