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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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72 Our kindred’s mighty Thane Died in the mouth of Grendel. Grendel swallowed him, The body of that dear man, head and trunk and limb. Yet not for this the sooner would he quit withal, He, the Slayer bloody-toothed, the gold-decked hall, Still mindful of murders, still empty-handed, he! But, terrible in prowess, did he try for me,Gripped with ready fore- paw! On him a pouch there hung; Wide it was and wondrous, with cunning cordage strung, And all y-wrought with artful thought, of very dragon’s skin, By the craft of devil. And me he’d thrust therein, Me, a man unsinning, and many other tooThis savage Prince-of-Evil. But so he might not do, When I myself in anger stood there upright. Too long it is to tell ye how I did requite This Scather of the people for each deed of ill; I did thy people honor, my Lord, by strength and skill. Away the Goblin scurried. ‘T was but a little space He still had joy of living. But leaving there his trace, His right paw in Heorot, thence forlorn in fear, Sick at heart, he fell into the bottom of the mere. Hrothgar me rewarded for that onset bold Well with many a treasure, yea, with plates of gold, When had come the morning and we sat at ale. There was glee and singing. Hrothgar hoar and hale, Man of much adventure, of far times told. Whiles he touched the joy-wood, the harp of man’s delight, He, the Brave-in-battle; whiles would he recite A lay of sooth and sadness; whiles was he telling Some legendary wonder, he, the great-heart King. Or whiles, again, that old Man, the Warrior strook by time, Began to mourn his lost youth, the prowess of his prime. His bosom welled within him, when he, in years so grey, Remembered so many things. Thus we the live-long day Partook there of desire, until o’er sons of men Another night was coming. Soon thereafter then Was faring forth in sorrow, greedy to repay, She, the Mother of Grendel. Death had ta’en her son,- Death and Geatmen’s war-hate. The eldritch Hag anon Had her bairn avenged, killed a man with might: From Aescher, old councillor, the life took flight. Nor could they, the Danefolk, when the morning came, Burn their perished comrade with the brands of flame, Nor lade upon the bale-fire the dear Man there: His corse beneath the mountain-streams in devil-arms she bare. |
