He me withinwards there, me the unsinning, The doer of big deeds would do me to be 2090 As one of the many; but naught so it might be, Sithence in mine anger upright I stood. 'Tis over-long telling how I to the folkscather For each one of evils out paid the hand-gild. There I, O my lord king, them thy leal people Worthy'd with works: but away he gat loosed Out thence for a little while, brooked yet life-joys; But his right hand held ward of his track howsoever, High upon Hart-hall, and thence away humble He sad of his mood to the mere-ground fell downward. 2100 Me for that slaughter-race the friend of the Scyldings With gold that beplated was mickle deal paid, With a many of treasures, sithence came the morning, And we to the feast-tide had sat us adown; Song was and glee there; the elder of Scyldings, Asking of many things, told of things o'erpast; Whiles hath the battle-deer there the harp's joy, The wood of mirth greeted; whiles the lay said he Soothfast and sorrowful; whiles a spell seldom told Told he by right, the king roomy-hearted; 2110 Whiles began afterward he by eld bounden, The aged hoar warrior, of his youth to bewail him, Its might of the battle; his breast well'd within him, When he, wont in winters, of many now minded. So we there withinward the livelong day's wearing Took pleasure amongst us, till came upon men Another of nights; then eftsoons again Was yare for the harm-wreak the mother of Grendel: All sorry she wended, for her son death had taken, The war-hate of the Weders: that monster of women 2120 Awreaked her bairn, and quelled a warrior In manner all mighty. Then was there from Aeschere, The wise man of old, life waning away; Nor him might they even when come was the morning, That death-weary wight, the folk of the Danes Burn up with the brand, nor lade on the bale The man well-belov'd, for his body she bare off In her fathom the fiendly all under the fell-stream. That was unto Hrothgar of sorrows the heaviest Of them which the folk-chieftain long had befallen. 2130 Then me did the lord king, and e'en by thy life, Mood-heavy beseech me that I in the holm-throng Should do after earlship, my life to adventure, And frame me main-greatness, and meed he behight me. Then I of the welling flood, which is well kenned, The grim and the grisly ground-herder did find. There to us for a while was the blending of hands; The holm welled with gore, and the head I becarved In that hall of the ground from the Mother of Grendel With the all-eked edges; unsoftly out thence 2140 My life forth I ferry'd, for not yet was I fey. But the earls' burg to me was giving thereafter Much sort of the treasures, e'en Healfdene's son.