ors sat down there, and saw on the water
The sea-dragons swimming to search the abysses.
They saw on the steep nesses sea-monsters lying,
Snakes and weird creatures: these madly shot away
Wrathful and venomous when the sound smote their ears,
The blast of the war-horn."

As Beowulf stood on the shore and watched the uncouth sea-creatures,
serpents, nicors, monstrous beasts of all kinds, he suddenly drew his
bow and shot one of them to the heart. The rest darted furiously away,
and the thanes were able to drag the carcase of the slain beast on
shore, where they surveyed it with wonder.

The Fight with Grendel's Mother

Meanwhile Beowulf had made ready for his task. He trusted to his
well-woven mail, the corslet fitting closely to his body and
protecting his breast, the shining helm guarding his head, bright with
the boar-image on the crest, and the mighty sword Hrunting, which
Hunferth, his jealousy forgotten in admiration, pressed on the
adventurous hero.

"That sword was called Hrunting, an ancient heritage.
Steel was the blade itself, tempered with poison-twigs,
Hardened with battle-blood: never in fight it failed
Any who wielded it, when he would wage a strife
In the dire battlefield, folk-moot of enemies."

When Beowulf stood ready with naked sword in hand, he turned and
looked at his loyal followers, his friendly hosts, the grey old King
Hrothgar, the sun and the green earth, which he might never see again;
but it was with no trace of weakness or fear that he spoke:

"Forget not, O noble kinsman of Healfdene,
Illustrious ruler, gold-friend of warriors,
What we two settled when we spake together,
If I for thy safety should end here my life-days,
That thou wouldst be to me, though dead, as a father.
Be to my kindred thanes, my battle-comrades,
A worthy protector should death o'ertake me.
Do thou, dear Hrothgar, send all these treasures here
Which thou hast given me, to my king, Hygelac.
Then may the Geat king, brave son of Hrethel dead,
See by the gold and gems, know by the treasures there,
That I found a generous lord, whom I loved in my life.
Give thou to Hunferth too my wondrous old weapon,
The sword with its graven blade; let the right valiant man
Have the keen war-blade: I will win fame with his,
With Hrunting, noble brand,