The Collected Works of William Morris :: :: University of Virginia Library

Then wended him Hrothgar with the band of his warriors,
The high-ward of the Scyldings from out of the hall,
For then would the war-lord go seek unto Wealhtheow
The Queen for a bed-mate. The Glory of king-folk
Against Grendel had set, as men have heard say,
A hall-ward who held him a service apart
In the house of the Dane-lord, for eoten-ward held he.
Forsooth he, the Geat-lord, full gladly he trowed
In the might of his mood and the grace of the Maker.
Therewith he did off him his byrny of iron
And the helm from his head, and his dighted sword gave,
The best of all irons, to the thane that abode him,
And bade him to hold that harness of battle.
Bespake then the good one, a big word he gave out,
Beowulf the Geat, ere on the bed strode he:
“Nowise in war I deem me more lowly
In the works of the battle than Grendel, I ween;
So not with the sword shall I lull him to slumber,
Or take his life thuswise, though to me were it easy;
Of that good wise he wots not, to get the stroke on me,
To hew on my shield, for as stark as he shall be
In the works of the foeman. So we twain a night-tide
Shall forgo the sword, if he dare yet to seek
The war without weapons. Sithence the wise God,
The Lord that is holy, on which hand soever
The glory may doom as due to him seemeth.”

Bowed down then the war-deer, the cheek-bolster took

The Geats rest in the hall

The face of the earl; and about him a many
Of sea-warriors bold to their hall-slumber bow'd them;
No one of them thought that thence away should he
Seek ever again to his home the beloved,
His folk, or his free burg where erst he was fed;
For of men had they learn'd that o'er mickle a many
In that wine-hall aforetime the fell death had gotten

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Of the folk of the Danes; but the Lord to them gave it,
To the folk of the Weders, the web of war-speeding,
Help fair and good comfort, e'en so that their foeman
Through the craft of one man all they overcame,
By the self-might of one. So is manifest truth
That God the Almighty the kindred of men
Hath wielded wide ever.

Now by wan night there came,
There strode in the shade-goer; slept there the shooters,
They who that horn-house should be a-holding,
All men but one man: to men was that known,
That them indeed might not, since will'd not the Maker,
The scather unceasing drag off 'neath the shadow;
But he ever watching in wrath 'gainst the wroth one
Mood-swollen abided the battle-mote ever.