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Before he went to take his rest, Hrothgar confided Heorot to Beowulf's care:

Never to any man, ere this, have I
Since hand and shield I might raise

Entrusted the Danes' meeting-hall, save now to thee.

Thus left alone, with his own followers, Beowulf stripped himself of sword and armour, intending to meet Grendel weaponless, hand-to-hand, and laid himself down on his bed, surrounded by his sailor-warriors. But not one of them, remembering the tales of horror told of that hall, thought, as he turned to sleep,

That he should thence ever seek his loved home again. Beowulf and his companions had not long to wait. In the dimness of the Northern night, over the pathless wastes of boggy moorland,

Came from the moor, under misty hills
Grendel ganging.

For a moment, the hideous foe stood in that "golden, richly variegated hall of men," gloating over his prey; "laughed in his mind " as he contemplated their coming destruction. Stealthily, he stretched out his hand, and seized

A sleeping Warrior, slit him unawares,
Bit his bone-casings, drank his veins' blood,
Swallowed him in continual rendings, -

with such dreadfully real details did our ancestors describe the terror of this unequal, supernatural struggle. Next, Grendel chanced on Beowulf himself, but, realising at the first grips that he had met too strong a man, his heart failed him, and he thought of flight. Beowulf's companions, snatching up their arms, came to their lord's help, only to find that mortal weapons would not enter the marsh-fiend's body. But Beowulf with his own hands burst the sinews and bone-casings" of Grendel's shoulder, and the fiend fled to find his fendwelling, leaving his hand, arm and shoulder-"Grendel's

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grasp "-in Beowulf's clutch, fled away, down through the blood-stained, boiling surge of the sea, to die beneath the waves. Four cantos then tell of the joy in Heorot, of its restoration, after twelve years of misery, to its old splendours, of the feasting and praising of Beowulf, on whom Wealtheow, the Queen, bestowed a rich and beautiful collar and mantle.

After the feast, Hrothgar, as before, retired, leaving the Goth warriors to sleep in the Danes' hall, though Beowulf, after receiving his costly gifts, slept elsewhere.

Grendel was dead, any place now was safe for sleep, so the warriors joyfully thought as they sank to rest securely. What they had not realised was that Grendel's mother,

Woman, wretched woman, mindful of misery,

lived still, and,

Greedy and gallows-minded,

was already far on her way to Heorot to avenge her son. Unlike Grendel, who entered the hall silently, his mother "rushed in," whereupon the startled warriors awoke and seized their arms. Terrified, she turned and fled, seizing, as she went, a noble, Æschere, Hrothgar's chosen friend and counsellor. When morning dawned, Hrothgar, hearing what had happened, and filled with grief, remembered how his Danes had told him that, from time to time, they had seen on the moors two vast figures, "march-stalkers," one like a man, the other like a woman; Grendel and his mother, whose dwelling, " not a mile distant," was " in the flood under the earth." Once more, he begged Beowulf's help, asking him to slay this wretched crone," offering him in recompense money and twisted gold." Beowulf answered in words which ring bravely still, and which, spoken or unspoken, have been in the minds of all Englishmen face to face with a great peril:

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Each one of us must await the end of earthly life;
Let him, who can, work glories before death.
To the lifeless warrior that, afterwards, shall be best.

Accompanied this time by Hrothgar and his thanes, Beowulf set out to reconnoitre; the poet pictures vividly the scene, just by the dreadful water underneath which the monster lay; a place of deep rocky gorges. precipitous headlands, nicker-houses many." Beowulf, leading the way

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Suddenly found mountain trees, a joyless wood
Leaning o'er the hoar rock,
Water beneath stood gory and troubled.

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The band sat down, saw there along the water
Of the Worm-races many, dreadful sea-dragons.
Also on the ness1-lurking-places, nickers lying,
Who at morning-prime often pursue

Their sorrowful path on the sea-road.

...

Undaunted, clad in his " byrnie," or corslet of mail, cunningly twisted and variegated, so strong that no enemy hand could penetrate to his body, with a helmet beset with forms of swine," so wrought that no blade could cut it, and carrying a "hafted falchion," named Hrunting,

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Its edge was iron, stained with twig-poison,
Never in battle had it failed any man,

Beowulf plunged down into the boiling, “ worm "-filled sea, down to the cave beneath the waves, to find the dwelling of the sea-beast. For the length of a day he descended, but before he reached the bottom, Grendel's mother seized him, and though her deadly grip could not pierce his armour, she bore him down to the sea's bed. There he found himself in a roofed hall, walled in from the waters:

A light of fire he saw, a pallid flame.

By its light, he could see his foe, and he rushed upon her with Hrunting

Withheld not swing of sword, so that on her head
The ringed blade sang a horrid war-song.

1 Ness, a headland, as in Sheer-ness.

But it was all in vain: the sword which never before had failed, was useless against "the ground-wolf, the mighty sea-woman." Like many an Englishman since, Beowulf flung from him the useless tool, and trusting to his wrestler's strength and his two fists, he came to hand-grips with the creature. But she was the stronger, and pressed him down upon the floor. Just as she was drawing her poniard to give him the stab which was to avenge her son's death Beowulf saw, among the arms lying about, a magic sword forged long ago by giant monsters,

Of weapons choicest.

In his extremity, he seized on this blade, and drove it desperately against her neck, so that

It gripped her hard, her bone-rings brake,

The bill passed right through her fated flesh-house;

On the floor she sank, gory was the sword.

The warrior rejoiced in his work.

The light shone; within, the light stood even as
From heaven serenely shines the sky's candle.

The warriors watching above the sea, saw the blood
He was

rise to the surface, but Beowulf did not come. searching the sea-woman's dwelling. At last, he had finished, and dived up through the sea to his fellows, bringing with him none of the treasures, nothing save the haft of the sword which had saved him, for the monster's hot blood had melted the blade.

All his life long Beowulf was fighting; his last exploit in his old age was to conquer a dragon, who sat upon treasures so ancient that none knew their age, or what prince had laid them there. The dragon sat always on them; if anyone came to take them away, he breathed out glowing embers.

As before, in the old days at Heorot, Beowulf set out alone; but when the dragon was obviously worsting him, one of his young warriors, Wigláf, who loved him and could bear the sight no longer, "waded through the deadly reek " to his lord's assistance, crying:

God in me knows that I would liefer
That fire should clasp my life-house1
With that of my Giver of gold.2

Seeing this help coming, "the worm grew angry." Beowulf lifted his sword-not Hrunting, which had failed him and was left long ago in the depths of the sea, in the sea-woman's hall, but Nægling

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An ancient and grey brand.

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But this, too, failed him; "Nægling bit less strongly," and the worm rushed on him, clasping the old warrior's neck with his "bitter bones." Beowulf, with a desperate effort

Called his wits into service, drew his slaughter-knife,
Scored the worm across his middle,

and so won his last fight. But poisoned beyond recovery by the "worm's" venomous breath, which had made a "wound deadly livid," Beowulf fell back dying. He despatched Wiglåf to fetch the treasure, reminding him that death has no real terror for a warrior who has fought his fight faithfully:

On earth I have suffered many changes,
Held my own well, sought no unjust strifes,
Nor sworn many oaths unrighteously.
Sick with mortal wounds, I, for all this, may
Have joy because the Ruler of men
When my life at last leaves my body

Need not upbraid me with murder of kins-men.

Wigláf returned with the treasures only just in time, and Beowulf, having charged him to see that the treasurehoard, bought with their overlord's life, should be given to the people, took leave of his gallant young thane:

The bold-hearted prince next doffed from his neck,
A golden circlet, to his thane he gave it,
His gold-hued helmet too; his bracelet and corslet,
Bade him bear them well.

1 The human body.

...

2 Beowulf, his overlord, who gave him costly gifts.

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