to these lads here
Kind of lore, and for that will I look to thy guerdon. 1220
Thou hast won by thy faring, that far and near henceforth,
Through wide time to come, men will give thee the worship,
As widely as ever the sea winds about
The windy land-walls. Be the while thou art living
An atheling wealthy, and well do I will thee
Of good of the treasures; be thou to my son
In deed ever friendly, and uphold thy joyance!
Lo! each of the earls here to the other is trusty,
And mild of his mood and to man-lord full faithful,
Kind friends all the thanes are, the folk ever yare. 1230
Ye well drunk of folk-grooms, now do ye my biddings.
To her settle then far'd she; was the feast of the choicest,
The men drank the wine nothing wotting of weird,
The grim shaping of old, e'en as forth it had gone
To a many of earls; sithence came the even,
And Hrothgar departed to his chamber on high,
The rich to his rest; and aright the house warded
Earls untold of number, as oft did they erewhile.
The bench-boards they bar'd them, and there they spread over
With beds and with bolsters. Of the beer-skinkers one 1240
Who fain was and fey bow'd adown to his floor-rest.
At their heads then they rested their rounds of the battle,
Their board-woods bright-shining. There on the bench was,
Over the atheling, easy to look on
The battle-steep war-helm, the byrny be-ringed,
The wood of the onset, all-glorious. Their wont was
That oft and oft were they all yare for the war-tide,
Both at home and in hosting, were it one were it either,
And for every such tide as their liege lord unto
The need were befallen: right good was that folk. 1250

XX. GRENDEL'S DAM BREAKS INTO HART
AND BEARS OFF AESCHERE.

So sank they to slumber; but one paid full sorely
For his rest of the even, as to them fell full often
Sithence that the gold-hall Grendel had guarded,
And won deed of unright, until that the end came
And death after sinning: but clear was it shown now,
Wide wotted of men, that e'en yet was a wreaker
Living after the loathly, a long while of time
After the battle-care, Grendel's own mother;
The woman, the monster-wife, minded her woe,
She who needs must in horror of waters be wonning, 1260
The streams all a-cold, sithence Cain was become
For an edge-bane forsooth to his very own brother,