hewed the helm-boars: hero famed
should be every earl as Æschere was!
1330But here in Heorot a hand hath slain him
of wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,[1]
proud of the prey, her path she took,
fain of her fill. The feud she avenged
that yesternight, unyieldingly,
1335Grendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst,—
seeing how long these liegemen mine
he ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,
in arms he fell. Now another comes,
keen and cruel, her kin to avenge,
1340faring far in feud of blood:
so that many a thane shall think, who e’er
sorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,
this is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low
that once was willing each wish to please.
1345Land-dwellers here[2] and liegemen mine,
who house by those parts,[3] I have heard relate
that such a pair they have sometimes seen,
march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,
wandering spirits: one of them seemed,
1350so far as my folk could fairly judge,
of womankind; and one, accursed,
- ↑ He surmises presently where she is.
- ↑ The connection is not difficult. The words of mourning, of acute grief, are said; and according to Germanic sequence of thought, inexorable here, the next and only topic is revenge. But is it possible? Hrothgar leads up to his appeal and promise with a skilful and often effective description of the horrors which surround the monster’s home and await the attempt of an avenging foe. This account is not the thing of shreds and patches which Müllenhoff and ten Brink would make it out.
- ↑ Following Gering’s suggestion.
