Selections from "Beowulf," translated by Burton Raffel

So Hrothgar’s men lived happy in his hall Till the monster stirred, that demon, that fiend, Grendel, who haunted the moors, the wild Marshes, and made his home in a hell Not hell but earth.

The Almighty drove Those demons out, and their exile was bitter, Shut away from men; they split Into a thousand forms of evil—spirits And fiends, goblins, monsters, giants, A brood forever opposing the Lord’s Will, and again and again defeated.

His misery leaped The seas, was told and sung in all Men’s ears: how Grendel’s hatred began, How the monster relished his savage war On the Danes

No one Waited for reparation from his plundering claws

No one Waited for reparation from his plundering claws

And sometimes they sacrificed to the old stone gods, Made heathen vows, hoping for Hell’s Support, the Devil’s guidance in driving Their affliction off.

And sometimes they sacrificed to the old stone gods, Made heathen vows, hoping for Hell’s Support, the Devil’s guidance in driving Their affliction off.

Let them Beware, those who are thrust into danger, Clutched at by trouble, yet can carry no solace In their hearts, cannot hope to be better!

I have come so far, Oh shelterer of warriors and your people’s loved friend, That this one favor you should not refuse me— That I, alone and with the help of my men, May purge all evil from this hall.

No, I expect no Danes Will fret about sewing our shrouds, if he wins.

I bought the end of Edgetho’s Quarrel, sent ancient treasures through the ocean’s Furrows to the Wulfings; your father swore He’d keep that peace.

The infamous killer fought For his freedom, wanting no flesh but retreat, Desiring nothing but escape; his claws Had been caught, he was trapped.

Herot trembled, wonderfully Built to withstand the blows, the struggling Great bodies beating at its beautiful walls; Shaped and fastened with iron, inside And out, artfully worked, the building Stood firm.

Suddenly The sounds changed, the Danes started In new terror, cowering in their beds as the terrible Screams of the Almighty’s enemy sang In the darkness, the horrible shrieks of pain And defeat, the tears torn out of Grendel’s Taut throat, hell’s captive caught in the arms Of him who of all the men on earth Was the strongest.

He twisted in pain, And the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder Snapped, muscle and bone split And broke.

Then old and young rejoiced, turned back From that happy pilgrimage, mounted their hard-hooved Horses, high-spirited stallions, and rode them Slowly toward Herot again, retelling Beowulf’s bravery as they jogged along.

But no one meant Beowulf's praise to belittle Hrothgar, their kind and gracious king!

So she reached Herot, Where the Danes slept as though already dead; Her visit ended their good fortune, reversed The bright vane of their luck.

He was hunting another Dead monster, and took his weapon with him For final revenge against Grendel’s vicious Attacks, his nighttime raids, over And over, coming to Herot when Hrothgar’s Men slept, killing them in their beds, Eating some on the spot, fifteen Or more, and running to his loathsome moor With another such sickening meal waiting In his pouch.

—Then the sword Melted, blood-soaked, dripping down Like water, disappearing like ice when the world’s Eternal Lord loosens invisible Fetters and unwinds icicles and frost As only He can, He who rules Time and seasons, He who is truly God.