Beowulf | Page 7

bit, drank blood in streams,?swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus?the lifeless corse was clear devoured,?e'en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;?for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,?felt for the foe with fiendish claw,?for the hero reclining, -- who clutched it boldly,?prompt to answer, propped on his arm.?Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils?that never he met in this middle-world,?in the ways of earth, another wight?with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,?sorrowed in soul, -- none the sooner escaped!?Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,?the den of devils: no doings now?such as oft he had done in days of old!?Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane?of his boast at evening: up he bounded,?grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.?The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.?The monster meant -- if he might at all --?to fling himself free, and far away?fly to the fens, -- knew his fingers' power?in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march?to Heorot this monster of harm had made!?Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,?castle-dwellers and clansmen all,?earls, of their ale. Angry were both?those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.?Wonder it was the wine-hall firm?in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth?the fair house fell not; too fast it was?within and without by its iron bands?craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill?many a mead-bench -- men have told me --?gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.?So well had weened the wisest Scyldings?that not ever at all might any man?that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,?crush by craft, -- unless clasp of fire?in smoke engulfed it. -- Again uprose?din redoubled. Danes of the North?with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,?who from the wall that wailing heard,?God's foe sounding his grisly song,?cry of the conquered, clamorous pain?from captive of hell. Too closely held him?he who of men in might was strongest?in that same day of this our life.
XII
NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence {12a}?suffer that slaughterous stranger to live,?useless deeming his days and years?to men on earth. Now many an earl?of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,?fain the life of their lord to shield,?their praised prince, if power were theirs;?never they knew, -- as they neared the foe,?hardy-hearted heroes of war,?aiming their swords on every side?the accursed to kill, -- no keenest blade,?no farest of falchions fashioned on earth,?could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!?He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,?from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting?on that same day of this our life?woful should be, and his wandering soul?far off flit to the fiends' domain.?Soon he found, who in former days,?harmful in heart and hated of God,?on many a man such murder wrought,?that the frame of his body failed him now.?For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac?held in hand; hateful alive?was each to other. The outlaw dire?took mortal hurt; a mighty wound?showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,?and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now?the glory was given, and Grendel thence?death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,?noisome abode: he knew too well?that here was the last of life, an end?of his days on earth. -- To all the Danes?by that bloody battle the boon had come.?From ravage had rescued the roving stranger?Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one?had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,?his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes?had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,?all their sorrow and ills assuaged,?their bale of battle borne so long,?and all the dole they erst endured?pain a-plenty. -- 'Twas proof of this,?when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,?arm and shoulder, -- all, indeed,?of Grendel's gripe, -- 'neath the gabled roof.
XIII
MANY at morning, as men have told me,?warriors gathered the gift-hall round,?folk-leaders faring from far and near,?o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,?trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed?the enemy's end to any man?who saw by the gait of the graceless foe?how the weary-hearted, away from thence,?baffled in battle and banned, his steps?death-marked dragged to the devils' mere.?Bloody the billows were boiling there,?turbid the tide of tumbling waves?horribly seething, with sword-blood hot,?by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor?laid forlorn his life adown,?his heathen soul, and hell received it.?Home then rode the hoary clansmen?from that merry journey, and many a youth,?on horses white, the hardy warriors,?back from the mere. Then Beowulf's glory?eager they echoed, and all averred?that from sea to sea, or south or north,?there was no other in earth's domain,?under vault of heaven, more valiant found,?of warriors none more worthy to rule!?(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,?gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)?From time to time, the tried-in-battle?their gray steeds set to gallop amain,?and ran a race when the road seemed fair.?From time to time, a thane of the king,?who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,?stored with sagas and songs of old,?bound word to word