The Tale of Beowulf/Chapter 24
XXIV. BEOWULF SLAYETH GRENDEL'S DAM, SMITETH OFF GRENDEL'S HEAD, AND COMETH BACK WITH HIS THANES TO HART.
MIDST the war-gear he saw then a bill victory-wealthy,An old sword of eotens full doughty of edges,The worship of warriors. That was choice of all weapons,1559Save that more was it made than any man otherIn the battle-play ever might bear it afield,So goodly, all glorious, the work of the giants. Then the girdled hilt seiz'd he, the Wolf of the Scyldings,The rough and the sword-grim, and drew forth the ring-sword,Naught weening of life, and wrathful he smote thenSo that there on her halse the hard edge begripped,And brake through the bone-rings: the bill all through-wadedHer flesh-sheathing fey; cring'd she down on the floor;The sword was war-sweaty, the man in his work joy'd.The bright beam shone forth, the light stood withinward,1570E'en as down from the heavens' clear high aloft shinethThe sky's candle. He all along the house scanned;Then turn'd by the wall along, heav'd up his weaponHard by the hilts the Hygelac's thane there,Ireful one-reded; naught worthless the edge wasUnto the warrior; but rathely now would heTo Grendel make payment of many war-onsets,Of them that he wrought on the folk of the West DanesOftener by mickle than one time alone, Whenas he the hearthfellows of Hrothgar the King1580Slew in their slumber and fretted them sleeping,Men fifteen to wit of the folk of the Danes,And e'en such another deal ferry'd off outward,Loathly prey. Now he paid him his guerdon therefor,The fierce champion; so well, that abed there he sawWhere Grendel war-weary was lying adownForlorn of his life, as him ere had scathedThe battle at Hart; sprang wide the body,Sithence after death he suffer'd the stroke,The hard swing of sword. Then he smote the head off him.1590Now soon were they seeing, those sage of the carles,E'en they who with Hrothgar gaz'd down on the holm,That the surge of the billows was blended about,The sea stain'd with blood. Therewith the hoar-blended,The old men, of the good one gat talking togetherThat they of the Atheling ween'd never eft-soonThat he, glad in his war-gain, should wend him a-seekingThe mighty king, since unto many it seemed That him the mere-she-wolf had sunder'd and broken.Came then nones of the day, and the ness there they gave up,1600The Scyldings the brisk; and then busk'd him home thence-wardThe gold-friend of men. But the guests, there they satAll sick of their mood, and star'd on the mere;They wist not, they ween'd not if him their own friend-lordHimself they should see.Himself they should see.Now that sword beganBecause of the war-sweat into icicles war-made,The war-bill, to wane: that was one of the wondersThat it melted away most like unto iceWhen the bond of the frost the Father lets loosen,Unwindeth the wave-ropes, e'en he that hath wielding1610Of times and of seasons, who is the sooth Shaper.In those wicks there he took not, the Weder-Geats' champion,Of treasure-wealth more, though he saw there a many,Than the off-smitten head and the sword-hilts together With treasure made shifting; for the sword-blade was molten,The sword broider'd was burn'd up, so hot was that blood,So poisonous the alien ghost there that had died.Now soon was a-swimming he who erst in the strife bodeThe war-onset of wrath ones; he div'd up through the water;And now were the wave-welters cleansed full well,Yea the dwellings full wide, where the ghost of elsewhither1621Let go of his life-days and the waning of living.Came then unto land the helm of the ship-ladsSwimming stout-hearted, glad of his sea-spoil,The burden so mighty of that which he bore there.Yode then against him and gave thanks to GodThat fair heap of thanes, and were fain of their lord,For that hale and sound now they might see him with eyen;Then was from the bold one the helm and the byrnyAll speedily loosen'd. The lake now was laid,1630The water 'neath welkin with war-gore bestained.Forth then they far'd them alongst of the foot-tracks, Men fain of heart all, as they meted the earth-way,The street the well known; then those king-bold of menAway from the holm-cliff the head there they boreUneasily ever to each one that bore it,The full stout-heart of men: it was four of them needs mustOn the stake of the slaughter with strong toil there ferryUnto the gold-hall the head of that Grendel;Until forthright in haste came into that hall,1640Fierce, keen in the hosting, a fourteen of menOf the Geat-folk a-ganging; and with them their lord,The moody amidst of the throng, trod the mead-plains;Came then in a-wending the foreman of thanes,The man keen of his deeds all beworshipp'd of doom,The hero, the battle-deer, Hrothgar to greet.Then was by the fell borne in onto the floorGrendel's head, whereas men were a-drinking in hall,Aweful before the earls, yea and the woman.The sight wondrous to see the warriors there look'd on.1650