THEN from the moorland, by misty crags
with God’s wrath laden, Grendel came.
The monster was minded of mankind now
sundry to seize in the stately house.
Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there
gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned
flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this
that he the home of Hrothgar sought
yet ne’er in his life-day, late or early
such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found
To the house the warrior walked apace
parted from peace; 35 the portal opended
though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
struck it
and baleful he burst in his blatant rage
the house’s mouth. All hastily, then
o’er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on
ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes
fearful flashes, like flame to see.
He spied in hall the hero-band
kin and clansmen clustered asleep
hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart
for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn
savage, to sever the soul of each
life from body, since lusty banquet
waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him
to seize any more of men on earth
after that evening. Eagerly watched
Hygelac’s kinsman his cursed foe
how he would fare in fell attack.
Not that the monster was minded to pause
Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior
for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder
the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams
swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
the lifeless corse was clear devoured
e’en feet and hands. Then farther he hied
for the hardy hero with hand he grasped
felt for the foe with fiendish claw
for the hero reclining, — who clutched it boldly
prompt to answer, propped on his arm.
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never he met in this middle-world
in the ways of earth, another wight
with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared
sorrowed in soul, — none the sooner escaped
Fain would he flee, his fastness seek
the den of devils: no doings now
such as oft he had done in days of old
Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.
The monster meant — if he might at all
to fling himself free, and far away
fly to the fens, — knew his fingers’ power
in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
to Heorot this monster of harm had made
Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft
castle-dwellers and clansmen all
earls, of their ale. Angry were both
those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
Wonder it was the wine-hall firm
in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth
the fair house fell not; too fast it was
within and without by its iron bands
craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill
many a mead-bench — men have told me
gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
So well had weened the wisest Scyldings
that not ever at all might any man
that bone-decked, brave house break asunder
crush by craft, — unless clasp of fire
in smoke engulfed it. — Again uprose
din redoubled. Danes of the North
with fear and frenzy were filled, each one
who from the wall that wailing heard
God’s foe sounding his grisly song
cry of the conquered, clamorous pain
from captive of hell. Too closely held him
he who of men in might was strongest
in that same day of this our life.