But that fierce sprite, who haunts the gloom, he could not brook

to hear

Each day the joyous noise in hall, the minstrels' singing clear,

And melody of harp. For he who knew of mankind's birth

In far off times thus sang: "The Lord Almighty made the earth,
Fair fields with water compassed round; and, glorious, set the light
Of sun and moon o'er every land to glad the people's sight;
And all the corners of the earth he decked with leaf and tree;
And every kind of life he made in all that living be!"

So thus did all men happily and in great joyance dwell,
Till he began to work them woe-the evil fiend of hell!

That wicked sprite was Grendel hight; he trod the outskirt waste
And all amid the moors and fens he had his fastness placed.

For Cain, the man accursed, long while dwelt with the monster brood
When God had thrust him out; and on his race for Abel's blood
The Lord eternal vengeance wreaked. No peace got Cain thereby,
Driven by the Lord for that foul sin far from mankind to fly :

And from him sprang all monstrous things, eotens and wraiths and

elves,

And giants whose long strife with God brought woe upon themselves.
At nightfall Grendel took his way to spy the lofty house,

To see how there the Ring-Danes dwelt after the beer-carouse;
And there he found a troop of thanes all sleeping free from care.
Then man's dark foe, the sprite of ill, grim, greedy, soon was yare,
And in their slumbers thirty thanes he fiercely snatched away,
And homeward with the rich spoil turned, rejoicing in his prey.

But in the twilight hour of dawn was Grendel's ravage known And loud the morning cry uprose, and feasting turned to moan.

Grief-stricken sat the mighty lord, for thanes his sorrow swelled When of that hateful sprite accursed the footprints he beheld; And heavier yet the trouble grew, loathly and lasting long,

For ere much time was past the fiend, shunning nor feud nor wrong, But firmly bent on ill, one night a yet worse murder wrought.

Then easily might he be found who quiet slumber sought,

And got himself a bed elsewhere, in bower far away,

When Grendel's hate, by tokens clear thus plain and open lay!
He who escaped the fiend thenceforth himself kept safe afar.
And thus alone against them all did Grendel wrongful war,
Till idle stood the stately house.

So mickle time went by;

Twelve winters did the Scyldings' lord in woe and trouble lie,

And boundless grief.

And so to men 'twas told in mournful song And clearly known how Grendel strove and waged with Hrothgar long A war of hate and crime and feud,-long years of endless strife. Peace would he none, nor stay the plague, nor take a price for life

For any man of Danish kin. Nor at the murderer's hand

Could any of the Witan hope in happier case to stand.

Like death's dark shadow so the fiend harassed old knights and young,
Waylaid and plotted; and all night round misty moorland hung.
(Men know not whither fiends of hell will sometimes take their way.)
Thus many crimes the foe of man, alone that walketh aye,

Did often work and grievous wrong. All Heorot was his own-
The rich-dyed hall-in darksome night; yet to the kingly throne,
Dear in God's sight, he might not come, nor know its meaning kind.

Breaking of heart and mickle woe the Scyldings' chief did find.

In secret oft the nobles sat, and counsel sought to rede

What valiant men might fittest do in this dread time of need;
And sometimes at their idol shrines they sacrifices made,

With words beseeching their false god that he would give them aid
Against the people's woes. Their custom this, the heathen's faith,
Whose thoughts were turned on hell. The Lord they knew not-He

who saith

Judgment of deeds; of God they wist not; nor did rightly know

To praise the Ruler of the heavens, the Lord of glory. Woe
Be unto him who thrusts his soul down to the arms of fire
By wicked hate! To devils turned, no joy let him desire!
But well for him who seeks the Lord after his dying day
And in the Father's bosom finds a quiet rest alway!

III.

THE COMING OF BEOWULF.

Thus on his sorrow Healfdene's kinsman brooded evermore,
Nor could the hero wise assuage his grief; for all too sore,
Loathly and lasting long, the straits that did the folk assail,
The tribulation all too fierce-the worst of nightly bale.

Of Grendel's deeds the tidings reached a valiant Gothic knight,
A thane of Higelac; highborn and great; no man in might

In this life's-day was like to him. A goodly ship he bade
Make ready the swans' path to sail, that he might carry aid

To that great lord, the warrior king, now in his time of need.
And, though they loved him well, wise churls but lightly blamed the deed,
They looked for happy end to come, and whetted his bold mind.

Now had he chosen fighting men, the keenest he could find

Of Gothic race. Fifteen in all down to the boat they went.

Wise seamen all the landmarks showed. And now the time was spent ; Below the cliff the vessel lay afloat upon the tide,

And while the waves broke on the sand the heroes climbed her side.

A gleaming freight of goodly arms into her lap they bore,

And then they pushed with willing hearts the close-ribbed bark from

shore.

Now foamy-throated o'er the seas the ship before the gale

Flew like a bird; and far and fast the wreathèd stem did sail
Till with the morn's first hour the land broke on the sailor's sight,
The headlands great and mountains steep and sea-cliffs shining bright.
The voyage ended straightway sprang the Weder folk ashore;
Made fast the ship, and shook abroad their corslets and war-store,
Thankful to God that He had made so smooth their watery way.

Then from the wall the Scyldings' warder, he who watched the bay, Saw bright shields o'er the bulwarks borne and war-gear shaken free, And much he wondered in his thought to know who these might be. Borne on his horse did Hrothgar's thane draw nigh unto the beach,

His strong spear quiv'ring in his hands, and thus with measured speech
He said: "What men be ye who thus, full armed and clad in mail,
Across the sea-ways and the waves in tall ship hither sail?

Of all folk here I hold the guard, that never foe may shame
Or with their seamen scathe the Danish land. But never came
More openly shield-bearing men! No leave of kin have ye
Nor warrior's password do ye know! Yet never did I see
A greater earl upon the earth than yonder armèd lord ;
No stay-at-home is he, but one made glorious by his sword
Unless his face and noble presence lie! Now I must know
Both who ye are and whence ye come ere ye may farther go
To spy at will the land of Danes. Sea wanderers from afar
Hear my plain words; and, haste is best, say who and whence ye are."
Thus did the eldest answer him-the leader of the band

Unlocked his word-hoard: "We are folk of Gothic kin and land,

And hearth-mates true of Higelac. Far was my father's fame

Spread through the world, a highborn chief, and Ecgtheow was his name.
Ere, full of days, he passed from earth, he many a year did bide,

And him wise men remember well in all the world so wide.
Now Healfdene's son, the people's guard, thy lord, we come to see
With friendly mind. O be to us a kindly guide! For we

Before the mighty lord of Danes a mickle errand bring.

Nor shall my inmost thought be hid; thou know'st if true the thing
We've heard for sooth, that in dark night some bitter secret foe,
I wot not what ill-doer, bringeth dread and unknown woe
And shame and death on Scylding folk; and I with counsel free