Hrothgar spake. He went to the hall and stood on the threshold and saw
the steep roof all decked out with gold and the hand of Grendel. 'Let
thanks be given quickly to God for this sight,' said he. 'Often I
waited for the loathsome one, for the snares of Grendel. May God always
work wonder after wonder, He the Guardian of glory. It was not long ago
that I expected not a bettering of any woes for ever, when, doomed to
blood, this best of all houses stood all stained with gore. Now has
this Hero done a deed, through the power of the Lord, which none of
us formerly could ever perform with all our wisdom. Lo! any woman who
gave birth to such a son among human kind, may say, if she yet live,
that the Creator was gracious unto her in bearing of children. Now,
O Beowulf, I will love thee in heart as my son. Hold well to this
new peace. Nor shall there be any lack of joys to thee in the world,
over which I have power. Full oft I for less have meted out rewards
and worshipful gifts to a meaner warrior, one weaker in strife. Thou
hast framed for thyself mighty deeds, so that thy doom liveth always
and for ever. May the All-wielder ever yield thee good as He now doth.'
Beowulf spake, the son of Ecgtheow: 'We framed to fight that brave
work with much favour, and hazarded a deed of daring and the might of
the unknown. I quickly gave you to see the monster himself the enemy
in his fretted armour ready to fall. I thought to twist him quickly
with hard grip on a bed of slaughter so that he should lie in the
throes of death, because of my hand-grip, unless he should escape
with his body. But I could not cut off his going when the Creator
willed it not. I cleft him not readily, that deadly fiend. He was
too strong on his feet. Nevertheless he left behind his hand as a
life protection to show the track, his arm and his shoulders. But
not by any means thus did that wretched creature get any help, nor
by that did the evil-doer, brought low by sin, live any longer. But
sorrow hath him in its fatal grip closely encompassed with baleful
bands. There shall a man covered with sins be biding a mickle doom
as the shining Creator will prescribe.'
Then was the man silent, the son of Ecglaf, in his boasting speech
about deeds of battle, when the Athelings looked at the hand high up
on the roof, by the craft of the earl, and the fingers of the foe,
there before each one. And each of the places of the nails was likest
to steel, the claw of the heathen, the uncanny claw of the battle
warrior. Every one was saying that no very good iron, of any of the
brave ones, would touch him at all, that would bear away thence the
bloody battle-hand of the monster.