Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
40 Down upon a bed of death, that he in vain should squirm, Dying under hand-grip-unless his body fled. That flight I could not hinder-God willed him free instead. To him, this Life-Destroyer, I clave not well enoughHe was too strong at foot-work, this Fiend in making-off! To save his life, however, he left his fingers back, His arm and his shoulder, as witness of his track! Yet by this the creature not any comfort wins; None the longer lives he, harried by his sins. But him his sore hath bounden fast by bonds of bale, In a gripe of anguish. There abide he shall, Outlawed by evil, the day of doom so grim, Waiting how the shining Judge wills to sentence him!” Then Unferth, son of Ecglaf, he was less noisy wight, In brag of works of battle, when, thanks to this man’s might, The aethelings were gazing that high roof along At paw and foeman’s fingers-and foreward there they hung, Each of the claws in place there, unto steel most like That heathen creature’s hand-spur, that warrior’s eery spike. The gazers vowed no brave man’s good old blade soever Might touch him, might the Monster’s bloody fight-paw sever. |