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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library - PinkMonkey.com - Beowulf
13

CHAPTER II

The Scop chants what it was that Grendel did. Grendel visited
Heorot as the retainers slept, and seized thirty of them and made
off; and there great woe and terror at Heorot and in the Burg
(town) of Danishmen. And for twelve years Grendel continued his
visits, and Hrothgar and his councillors were at whether he always
was lucky enough to make off with thirty, as on the first night; but
we believe there must have been many, Danishmen to have kept
Grendel busy so long at Heorot, and it seems strange that their
combined strength,- they were men, too, with such goodly spears
and swords,- was not equal to slaying Cannibal Grendel. But so it
was. Perhaps he bore a charmed life, and could be conquered only
by Some One against whom the charm was powerless. Who might
that Some One be? Then fared he forth, did Grendel, to seek at
dead of night The high house, how the Ring-Danes, after their beer,
were dight.

The aethelings he found there, aslumber after mirth; Naught they
knew of sorrow, naught of human dearth.

The Creature of damnation, the grim, the greedy One, The fierce
One in his fury, was ready there anon; And, where they rested, reft
he thirty, thane by thane, And thence went faring homeward, of his
plunder fain, With his fill of slaughter, to seek his lairs again.

In the dawning, at the daybreak, arose of men the wail, A mickle
morning-uproar, after their yester-ale, When Grendel’s strength in
battle to sons of men was plain.

Blitheless sate the high Prince, the Aetheling so good; That strong
Heart stricken sate, o’er lost thanes abrood, What time the court set
eyes on the curse’d Monster’s trail, Too strong that strife for
Danefolk, too long the bane and bale.

Eftsoons, but one night after, was he at work once more, With more
of loathly slaughter, nor mourned a whit therefor, A whit for feud
and foul deed-in sin was he so bound!

Then might ye mark full many who somewhat further found
Resting-places elsewhere,- in outer bowers their bed, When, by so
clear a token, to them was soothly said The hate of this new Hall-
Thane. More far, more tight, all such Did keep themselves
thereafter who ‘scaped that devil’s clutch!

So ruled he and so ravaged, in wrong the one ‘gainst all, Till idle
stood and empty that excelling hall.

Mickle long the while was: twelve winters’ tide Hrothgar dreed
disaster, woes with never end, Sorrows unbounded, he, the
Scyldings’ Friend.
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