Beowulf lines 2033-2144

'Think how the Heathobards will be bound to feel,

their lord, Ingeld, and his loyal thanes,

when he walks in with that woman to the feast:

Danes are at the table, being entertained,

honoured guests in glittering regalia,

burnished ring-mail that was their hosts' birthright,

looted when the Heathobards could no longer wield

their weapons in the shield-clash, when they went down

with their beloved comrades and forfeited their lives.

Then an old spearman will speak while they are drinking,

having glimpsed some heirloom that brings alive

memories of the massacre; his mood will darken

and heart-stricken, in the stress of his emotion,

he will begin to test a young man's temper

and stir up trouble, starting like this:

"Now, my friend, don't you recognize

your father's sword, his favourite weapon,

the one he wore when he went out in his war-mask

to face the Danes on that final day.

After Wethergeld died and his men were doomed

the Shieldings quickly claimed the field,

and now here's a son of one or other

of those same killers coming through our hall

overbearing us, mouthing boasts,

and rigged in armour that by right is yours."

And so he keeps on, recalling and accusing,

working things up with bitter words

until one of the lady's retainers lies

spattered in blood, split open

on his father's account. The killer knows

the lie of the land and escapes with his life.

Then on both sides the oath-bound lords

will break the peace, a passionate hate

will build up in Ingeld and love for his bride

will falter in him as the feud rankles.

I therefore suspect the good faith of the Heathobards,

the truth of their friendship and the trustworthiness

of their alliance with the Danes.

                                                                  But now, my lord,

I shall carry on with my account of Grendel,

the whole story of everything that happened

in the hand-to-hand fight.

            After heaven's gem

had gone mildly to earth, that maddened spirit,

the terror of those twilights, came to attack us

where we stood guard, still safe inside the hall.

There deadly violence came down on Handscio

and he fell as fate ordained, the first to perish,

rigged out for the combat. A comrade from our ranks

had come to grief in Grendel's maw:

he ate up the entire body.

There was blood on his teeth, he was bloated and dangerous,

all roused up, yet still unready

to leave the hall empty-handed;

renowned for his might, he matched himself against me,

wildly reaching. He had this roomy pouch,

a strange accoutrement, intricately strung

and hung at the ready, a rare patchwork

of devilishly fitted dragon-skins.

I had done him no wrong, yet the raging demon

wanted to cram me and many another

into this bag - but it was not to be

once I got to my feet in a blind fury.

It would take too long to tell how I repaid

the terror of the land for every life he took

and so won credit for you, my king,

and for all your people. And although he got away

to enjoy life's sweetness for a while longer,

his right hand stayed behind him in Heorot,

evidence of his miserable overthrow

as he dived into murk on the mere-bottom.

'I got lavish rewards from the lord of the Danes

for my part in the battle, beaten gold

and much else, once morning came

and we took our places at the banquet table.

There was singing and excitement: an old reciter,

a carrier of stories, recalled the early days.

At times some hero made the timbered harp

tremble with sweetness, or related true

and tragic happenings; at times the king

gave the proper turn to some fantastic tale,

or a battle-scarred veteran, bowed with age,

would begin to remember the martial deeds

of his youth and prime and be overcome

as the past welled up in his wintry heart.

'We were happy there the whole day long

and enjoyed our time until another night

descended upon us. Then, with sudden despatch,

the vehement mother avenged her son

and wrought destruction. Death had robbed her,

Geats had slain Grendel, so his ghastly dam

struck back and with bare-faced defiance

laid a man low. Thus life departed

from the sage Aeschere, an elder wise in counsel.

But afterwards, on the morning following,

the Danes could not burn the dead body

nor lay the remains of the man they loved

on his funeral pyre. She had fled with the corpse

and taken refuge beneath torrents on the mountain.

It was a hard blow for Hrothgar to bear,

harder than any he had undergone before.

And so the heartsore king besought me

in your royal name to take my chances

under water, to win glory

and prove my worth. He promised me rewards.

Hence, as is well known, I went to my encounter

with the terror-monger at the bottom of the tarn.

For a while it was hand-to-hand between us,

then blood went curling along the currents

and I beheaded Grendel's mother in the hall

with a mighty sword. I barely managed

to escape with my life; my time had not yet come.

But Halfdane's heir, the shelter of those earls,

again endowed me with a multitude of gifts.