the
neck of the sea-woman, the dread wolf of the abyss, and broke the
bones. Dead the monster sank to the ground, and Beowulf, standing
erect, saw at his feet the lifeless carcase of his foe. The hero still
grasped his sword and looked warily along the walls of the
water-dwelling, lest some other foe should emerge from its recesses;
but as he gazed Beowulf saw his former foe, Grendel, lying dead on a
bed in some inner hall. He strode thither, and, seizing the corpse by
the hideous coiled locks, shore off the head to carry to earth again.
The poisonous hot blood of the monster melted the blade of the mighty
sword, and nothing remained but the hilt, wrought with curious
ornaments and signs of old time. This hilt and Grendel's head were all
that Beowulf carried off from the water-fiends' dwelling; and laden
with these the hero sprang up through the now clear and sparkling
water.

[Illustration: Beowulf shears off the head of Grendel]

Meanwhile the Danes and Geats had waited long for his reappearance.
When the afternoon was well advanced the Danes departed sadly,
lamenting the hero's death, for they concluded no man could have
survived so long beneath the waters; but his loyal Geats sat there
still gazing sadly at the waves, and hoping against all hope that
Beowulf would reappear. At length they saw changes in the mere--the
blood boiling upwards in the lake, the quenching of the unholy light,
then the flight of the sea-monsters and a gradual clearing of the
waters, through which at last they could see their lord uprising. How
gladly they greeted him! What awe and wonder seized them as they
surveyed his dreadful booty, the ghastly head of Grendel and the
massive hilt of the gigantic sword! How eagerly they listened to his
story, and how they vied with one another for the glory of bearing his
armour, his spoils, and his weapons back over the moorlands and the
fens to Heorot. It was a proud and glad troop that followed Beowulf
into the hall, and up through the startled throng until they laid down
before the feet of King Hrothgar the hideous head of his dead foe, and
Beowulf, raising his voice that all might hear above the buzz and hum
of the great banquet-hall, thus addressed the king:

"Lo! we this sea-booty, O wise son of Healfdene,
Lord of the Scyldings, have brought for thy pleasure,
In token of triumph, as thou here seest.
From harm have I hardly escaped with my life,
The war under w