Beowulf - Chapter 3: Grendel The Murderer lyrics

When the sun was sunken, he set out to visit The lofty hall-building, how the Ring-Danes had used it For beds and benches when the banquet was over. Then he found there reposing many a noble Asleep after supper; sorrow the heroes Misery knew not. The monster of evil Greedy and cruel tarried but little, Fell and frantic, and forced from their slumbers Thirty of thanemen; thence he departed Leaping and laughing, his lair to return to, With surfeit of slaughter sallying homeward. In the dusk of the dawning, as the day was just breaking, Was Grendel's prowess revealed to the warriors: Then, his meal-taking finished, a moan was uplifted, Morning-cry mighty. The man-ruler famous, The long-worthy atheling, sat very woful, Suffered great sorrow, sighed for his liegemen, When they had seen the track of the hateful pursuer, The spirit accursèd: too crushing that sorrow, Too loathsome and lasting. Not longer he tarried, But one night after continued his slaughter Shameless and shocking, shrinking but little From malice and murder; they mastered him fully. He was easy to find then who otherwhere looked for A pleasanter place of repose in the lodges, A bed in the bowers. Then was brought to his notice Told him truly by token apparent The hall-thane's hatred: he held himself after Further and faster who the foeman did baffle. So ruled he and strongly strove against justice Lone against all men, till empty uptowered The choicest of houses. Long was the season: Twelve-winters' time torture suffered The friend of the Scyldings, every affliction, Endless agony; hence it after became Certainly known to the children of men Sadly in measures, that long against Hrothgar Grendel struggled:—his grudges he cherished, Murderous malice, many a winter, Strife unremitting, and peacefully wished he Life-woe to lift from no liegeman at all of The men of the Dane-folk, for money to settle, No counsellor needed count for a moment On handsome amends at the hands of the murderer; The monster of evil fiercely did hara**, The ill-planning d**h-shade, both elder and younger, Trapping and tricking them. He trod every night then The mist-covered moor-fens; men do not know where Witches and wizards wander and ramble. So the foe of mankind many of evils Grievous injuries, often accomplished, Horrible hermit; Heort he frequented, Gem-bedecked palace, when night-shades had fallen (Since God did oppose him, not the throne could he touch, The light-flashing j**el, love of Him knew not). 'Twas a fearful affliction to the friend of the Scyldings Soul-crushing sorrow. Not seldom in private Sat the king in his council; conference held they What the braves should determine 'gainst terrors unlooked for. At the shrines of their idols often they promised Gifts and offerings, earnestly prayed they The devil from hell would help them to lighten Their people's oppression. Such practice they used then, Hope of the heathen; hell they remembered In innermost spirit, God they knew not, Judge of their actions, All-wielding Ruler, No praise could they give the Guardian of Heaven, The Wielder of Glory. Woe will be his who Through furious hatred his spirit shall drive to The clutch of the fire, no comfort shall look for, Wax no wiser; well for the man who, Living his life-days, his Lord may face And find defence in his Father's embrace!