Gave me willingly to see on the wall a Heavy old hand-sword hanging in splendor (He guided most often the lorn and the friendless), That I swung as a weapon. The wards of the house then 15 I killed in the conflict (when occasion was given me). Then the battle-sword burned, the brand that was lifted,[1] As the blood-current sprang, hottest of war-sweats; Seizing the hilt, from my foes I offbore it; I avenged as I ought to their acts of malignity, 20 The murder of Danemen. I then make thee this promise, {Heorot is freed from monsters.} Thou'lt be able in Heorot careless to slumber With thy throng of heroes and the thanes of thy people Every and each, of greater and lesser, And thou needest not fear for them from the selfsame direction 25 As thou formerly fearedst, oh, folk-lord of Scyldings, [58] End-day for earlmen." To the age-hoary man then, {The famous sword is presented to Hrothgar.} The gray-haired chieftain, the gold-fashioned sword-hilt, Old-work of giants, was thereupon given; Since the fall of the fiends, it fell to the keeping 30 Of the wielder of Danemen, the wonder-smith's labor, And the bad-mooded being abandoned this world then, Opponent of God, victim of murder, And also his mother; it went to the keeping Of the best of the world-kings, where waters encircle, 35 Who the scot divided in Scylding dominion. {Hrothgar looks closely at the old sword.} Hrothgar discoursed, the hilt he regarded, The ancient heirloom where an old-time contention's Beginning was graven: the gurgling currents, The flood slew thereafter the race of the giants, 40 They had proved themselves daring: that people was loth to {It had belonged to a race hateful to God.} The Lord everlasting, through lash of the billows The Father gave them final requital. So in letters of rune on the clasp of the handle Gleaming and golden, 'twas graven exactly, 45 Set forth and said, whom that sword had been made for, Finest of irons, who first it was wrought for, Wreathed at its handle and gleaming with serpents. The wise one then said (silent they all were) {Hrothgar praises Beowulf.}