The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 12
XII. GRENDEL COMETH INTO HART: OF THE STRIFE BETWIXT HIM AND BEOWULF.
CAME then from the moor-land, all under the mist-bents,710Grendel a-going there, bearing God's anger.The scather the ill one was minded of mankindTo have one in his toils from the high hall aloft.'Neath the welkin he waded, to the place whence the wine-house,The gold-hall of men, most yarely he wistWith gold-plates fair colour'd; nor was it the first timeThat he unto Hrothgar's high home had betook him.Never he in his life-days, either erst or thereafter,Of warriors more hardy or hall-thanes had found.Came then to the house the wight on his ways,720Of all joys bereft; and soon sprang the door open,With fire-bands made fast, when with hand he had touch'd it;Brake the bale-heedy, he with wrath bollen,The mouth of the house there, and early thereafter On the shiny-fleck'd floor thereof trod forth the fiend;On went he then mood-wroth, and out from his eyes stoodLikest to fire-flame light full unfair.In the high house beheld he a many of warriors,A host of men sib all sleeping together,Of man-warriors a heap; then laugh'd out his mood;730In mind deem'd he to sunder, or ever came day,The monster, the fell one, from each of the men thereThe life from the body; for befell him a bodingOf fulfilment of feeding: but weird now it was notThat he any more of mankind thenceforwardShould eat, that night over. Huge evil beheld thenThe Hygelac's kinsman, and how the foul scatherAll with his fear-grips would fare there before him;How never the monster was minded to tarry,For speedily gat he, and at the first stour,740A warrior a-sleeping, and unaware slit him,Bit his bone-coffer, drank blood a-streaming,Great gobbets swallow'd in; thenceforth soon had he Of the unliving one every whit eatenTo hands and feet even: then forth strode he nigher,And took hold with his hand upon him the high-hearted,The warrior a-resting; reach'd out to himwardsThe fiend with his hand, gat fast on him rathelyWith thought of all evil, and besat him his arm.Then swiftly was finding the herdsman of foul deeds750That forsooth he had met not in Middle-garth ever,In the parts of the earth, in any man elseA hand-grip more mighty; then wax'd he of moodHeart-fearful, but none the more outward might he;Hence-eager his heart was to the darkness to hie him,And the devil-dray seek: not there was his serviceE'en such as he found in his life-days before.Then to heart laid the good one, the Hygelac's kinsman,His speech of the even-tide; uplong he stoodAnd fast with him grappled, till bursted his fingers.760The eoten was out-fain, but on strode the earl. The mighty fiend minded was, whereso he might,To wind him about more widely away thence,And flee fenwards; he found then the might of his fingersIn the grip of the fierce one; sorry faring was thatWhich he, the harm-scather, had taken to Hart.The warrior-hall dinn'd now; unto all Danes there waxed,To the castle-abiders, to each of the keen ones,To all earls, as an ale-dearth. Now angry were bothOf the fierce mighty warriors, far rang out the hall-house;770Then mickle the wonder it was that the wine-hallWithstood the two war-deer, nor welter'd to earthThe fair earthly dwelling; but all fast was it buildedWithin and without with the banding of ironBy crafty thought smithy'd. But there from the sill bow'dFell many a mead-bench, by hearsay of mine,With gold well adorned, where strove they the wrothful.Hereof never ween'd they, the wise of the Scyldings,That ever with might should any of men The excellent, bone-dight, break into pieces,780Or unlock with cunning, save the light fire's embracingIn smoke should it swallow. So uprose the roarNew and enough; now fell on the North-DanesIll fear and the terror, on each and on all men,Of them who from wall-top hearken'd the weeping,Even God's foeman singing the fear-lay,The triumphless song, and the wound-bewailingOf the thrall of the Hell; for there now fast held himHe who of men of main was the mightiestIn that day which is told of, the day of this life.