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And the brood of titans that battled with God Ages long; for which he rewarded them. He went then to visit at the fall of night That lofty hall, to see how the Danes Fared as they lay at the end of their carousing. Within it he found the band of warriors Sleeping after the feast; they were far from sorrow And the misery of men. The creature was like pestilence 120 Raging and ravenous, quick at his task, Savage and unsparing, seizing thirty Soldiers from their beds; then off again Glutlusty with booty making for his home, Seeking his dwelling laden with the slain. When the dawn broke and day began And Grendel’s battle-strength filled men’s eyes, Then weeping arose where feasting had been, Loud morning crying. The illustrious king, The man old in worth sat unrejoicing, 130 Bearing, enduring grief, strong Sorrow for his soldiers, when they saw the footprint Of the hated, of the accursed spirit; that strife Was too strong, too long, and too malignant! And after no longer than a single night He went further in murder and mourned none for it, In hatred, in violence – in these ways too set. Then it wasn’t rare for a man elsewhere At a greater distance to look for his rest, For a bed in the outbuildings, when once he knew, 140 Truly told by a sure token, The hall-haunter’s hate; to escape the fiend Was to keep himself thereafter farther off and safer. So he held sway and struggled against the right, Solitary against all, till empty and unvisited Stood the best of halls. Long was the time, Twelve years passing, that the lord of the Scyldings Spent to learn pain, each grief there was, Each bursting sorrow; and so it became known, Became open to men, grievously recounted 150 To the children of men, how Grendel fought 4
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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 5

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And the brood of titans that battled with God Ages long; for which he rewarded them.

He went then to visit at the fall of night That lofty hall, to see how the Danes Fared as they lay at the end of their carousing. Within it he found the band of warriors Sleeping after the feast; they were far from sorrow And the misery of men. The creature was like pestilence 120 Raging and ravenous, quick at his task, Savage and unsparing, seizing thirty Soldiers from their beds; then off again Glutlusty with booty making for his home, Seeking his dwelling laden with the slain. When the dawn broke and day began And Grendel’s battle-strength filled men’s eyes, Then weeping arose where feasting had been, Loud morning crying. The illustrious king, The man old in worth sat unrejoicing, 130 Bearing, enduring grief, strong Sorrow for his soldiers, when they saw the footprint Of the hated, of the accursed spirit; that strife Was too strong, too long, and too malignant! And after no longer than a single night He went further in murder and mourned none for it, In hatred, in violence – in these ways too set. Then it wasn’t rare for a man elsewhere At a greater distance to look for his rest, For a bed in the outbuildings, when once he knew, 140 Truly told by a sure token, The hall-haunter’s hate; to escape the fiend Was to keep himself thereafter farther off and safer. So he held sway and struggled against the right, Solitary against all, till empty and unvisited Stood the best of halls. Long was the time, Twelve years passing, that the lord of the Scyldings Spent to learn pain, each grief there was, Each bursting sorrow; and so it became known, Became open to men, grievously recounted 150 To the children of men, how Grendel fought

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