That time with Hrothgar, waging his enmity, His sin-forced feud for many seasons, His seasonless strife; what peace would he have With any man of the host of Denmark? His deadliness was unshakeable: no settling with money: Nor did any counsellor have cause to expect Glorious reparation from the killer’s hands; But that was a monster remorseless to persecute, Dark with death’s shadow, both veteran and untried; 160 He lay hid and plotted, he held the moors, Mist, endless night; and what man’s knowledge Can map the gliding-ground of demon and damned?

So mankind’s enemy, the terrible solitary Went on accomplishing outrage on outrage, Heavy humiliations. Heorot was his house, That treasure-strewn hall through the hours of blackness. ( – No coming openly to the throne or its gifts Or feeling its favour, forbidden by God.) It was sharp distress to the lord of the Scyldings, 170 Heartbreak it was; often his chief men Gathered in council to debate the means That might seem best to the brave in mind For combating the panic terror of the raids. At times in their temples they made pagans’ vows, Sacrifices to their idols, in their speeches beseeching The destroyer of souls to help the people In their common affliction. Such was their custom, The hope of the heathen; it was hell that came Called back to their minds, of the Creator they knew nothing, 180 The Judge of all acts, the Lord God was strange to them, And indeed they were ignorant of the praise of heaven’s King, The Ruler of Glory. O unhappy man Who will thrust his soul through terrible perversity Into Fire’s embrace, eschewing solace All unregenerate! O happy the man To be drawn to the Lord when his death-day falls, In his Father’s embrace to implore his peace! – So the son of Healfdene’s heart was surging With the cares of that time, nor could the wise man 190

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