The Battle with Grendel
from
Beowulf
translated by Burton
Raffel
Epic 4
8
Out from
the marsh, from the foot of
misty
Hills and bogs, bearing God’s
hatred,
Grendel came, hoping to kill
395 Anyone he
could trap on this trip to high
Herot.
He moved quickly through the cloudy
night,
Up from his swampland, sliding
silently
Toward that gold-shining hall. He had visited
Hrothgar’s
Home before, knew the way—
400 But never,
before nor after that
night,
Found Herot defended so firmly, his
reception
So harsh. He journeyed, forever
joyless,
Straight to the door, then snapped it
open,
Tore its iron fasteners with a touch,
405
And rushed angrily over the
threshold.
He strode quickly across the
inlaid
Floor, snarling and fierce: His
eyes
Gleamed in the darkness, burned with a
gruesome
Light. Then he stopped, seeing the hall
410
Crowded with sleeping warriors,
stuffed
With rows of young soldiers resting
together.
And his heart laughed, he relished the
sight,
Intended to tear the life from those
bodies
By morning; the monster’s mind was hot
415 With
the thought of food and the feasting his
belly
Would soon know. But fate, that night,
intended
Grendel to gnaw the broken
bones
Of his last human supper.
Human
Eyes were watching his evil steps,
420 Waiting
to see his swift hard
claws.
Grendel snatched at the first
Geat
He came to, ripped him apart,
cut
His body to bits with powerful
jaws,
Drank the blood from his veins, and bolted
425
Him down, hands and feet;
death
And Grendel’s great teeth came
together,
Snapping life shut. Then he stepped to
another
Still body, clutched at Beowulf with his
claws,
Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper
430
—And was instantly seized himself,
claws
Bent back as Beowulf leaned up on one
arm.
That shepherd of evil, guardian of
crime,
Knew at once that nowhere on
earth
Had he met a man whose hands were harder;
435
His mind was flooded with fear—but
nothing
Could take his talons and himself from that
tight
Hard grip. Grendel’s one thought was to
run
From Beowulf, flee back to his marsh and hide
there:
This was a different Herot than the hall he had
emptied.
440 But Higlac’s follower remembered
his
final
Boast and, standing erect,
stopped
The monster’s flight, fastened those
claws
In his fists till they cracked, clutched
Grendel
Closer. The infamous killer fought
445 For his
freedom, wanting no flesh but
retreat,
Desiring nothing but escape; his
claws
Had been caught, he was trapped. That trip to
Herot
Was a miserable journey for the writhing
monster!
The high hall rang, its roof boards swayed,
450
And Danes shook with terror.
Down
The aisles the battle swept,
angry
And wild. Herot trembled,
wonderfully
Built to withstand the blows, the
struggling
Great bodies beating at its beautiful
walls;
455 Shaped and fastened with iron,
inside
And out, artfully worked, the
building
Stood firm. Its benches rattled,
fell
To the floor, gold-covered boards
grating
As Grendel and Beowulf battled across them.
460
Hrothgar’s wise men had fashioned
Herot
To stand forever; only
fire,
They had planned, could shatter what such skill had
put
Together, swallow in hot flames such
splendor
Of ivory and iron and wood. Suddenly
465 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
470
Taut throat, hell’s captive caught in the
arms
Of him who of all the men on
earth
Was the strongest.
9
That
mighty protector of
men
Meant to hold the monster till its
life
Leaped out, knowing the fiend was no use
475 To
anyone in Denmark. All of
Beowulf’s
Band had jumped from their beds,
ancestral
Swords raised and ready,
determined
To protect their prince if they could. Their
courage
Was great but all wasted: They could hack at
Grendel
480 From every side, trying to
open
A path for his evil soul, but their
points
Could not hurt him, the sharpest and hardest
iron
Could not scratch at his skin, for that sin-stained
demon
Had bewitched all men’s weapons, laid
spells
485 That blunted every mortal
man’s
blade.
And yet his time had come, his
days
Were over, his death near;
down
To hell he would go, swept groaning and
helpless
To the waiting hands of still worse fiends.
490
Now he discovered—once the
afflictor
Of men, tormentor of their days—what it
meant
To feud with Almighty God:
Grendel
Saw that his strength was deserting him, his
claws
Bound fast, Higlac’s brave follower tearing
at
495 His hands. The monster’s hatred rose
higher,
But his power had gone. He twisted in
pain,
And the bleeding sinews deep in his
shoulder
Snapped, muscle and bone
split
And broke. The battle was over, Beowulf
500 Had
been granted new glory: Grendel
escaped,
But wounded as he was could flee to his
den,
His miserable hole at the bottom of the
marsh,
Only to die, to wait for the
end
Of all his days. And after that bloody
505
Combat the Danes laughed with
delight.
He who had come to them from across the
sea,
Bold and strong-minded, had driven
affliction
Off, purged Herot clean. He was
happy,
Now, with that night’s fierce work; the
Danes
510 Had been served as he’d boasted he’d
serve them;
Beowulf,
A prince of the Geats, had killed
Grendel,
Ended the grief, the sorrow, the
suffering
Forced on Hrothgar’s helpless
people
By a bloodthirsty fiend. No Dane doubted
515
The victory, for the proof, hanging
high
From the rafters where Beowulf had hung it, was the
monster’s
Arm, claw and shoulder and
all.
10
And then,
in the morning, crowds
surrounded
Herot, warriors coming to that hall
520 From
faraway lands, princes and
leaders
Of men hurrying to behold the
monster’s
Great staggering tracks. They gaped with no
sense
Of sorrow, felt no regret for his
suffering,
Went tracing his bloody footprints, his
beaten
525 And lonely flight, to the edge of
the
lake
Where he’d dragged his corpselike way,
doomed
And already weary of his vanishing
life.
The water was bloody, steaming and
boiling
In horrible pounding waves, heat
530 Sucked
from his magic veins; but the
swirling
Surf had covered his death,
hidden
Deep in murky darkness his
miserable
End, as hell opened to receive
him.
Then old and young rejoiced, turned back
535
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.
And over and over they swore that nowhere
540
On earth or under the spreading
sky
Or between the seas, neither south nor
north,
Was there a warrior worthier to rule over
men.
(But no one meant Beowulf’s praise to
belittle
Hrothgar, their kind and gracious king!) . . .
11
545 . . . “They live in secret places,
windy
Cliffs, wolf-dens where water
pours
From the rocks, then runs underground, where
mist
Steams like black clouds, and the groves of
trees
Growing out over their lake are all covered
550
With frozen spray, and wind down
snakelike
Roots that reach as far as the
water
And help keep it dark. At night that
lake
Burns like a torch. No one knows its
bottom,
No wisdom reaches such depths. A deer,
555
Hunted through the woods by packs of
hounds,
A stag with great horns, though driven through the
forest
From faraway places, prefers to
die
On those shores, refuses to save its
life
In that water. It isn’t far, nor is it
560 A
pleasant spot! When the wind
stirs
And storms, waves splash toward the
sky,
As dark as the air, as black as the
rain
That the heavens weep. Our only
help,
Again, lies with you. Grendel’s mother
565 Is
hidden in her terrible home, in a
place
You’ve not seen. Seek it, if you dare! Save
us,
Once more, and again twisted
gold,
Heaped-up ancient treasure, will reward
you
For the battle you win!”
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