Beówulf Tears Off Grendel'S Arm
Nolde eorla hleó ænige þingaþone cwealm-cuman cwicne forlætan,ne his lîf-dagas leóda ænigumnytte tealde. Þær genehost brägdeorl Beówulfes ealde lâfe,wolde freá-drihtnes feorh ealgianmæres þeódnes, þær hie meahton swâ;hie þät ne wiston, þâ hie gewin drugon,heard-hicgende hilde-mecgas,and on healfa gehwone heáwan þôhton,sâwle sêcan, þät þone syn-scaðanænig ofer eorðan îrenna cyst,gûð-billa nân grêtan nolde;ac he sige-wæpnum forsworen häfde,ecga gehwylcre. Scolde his aldor-gedâlon þäm däge þysses lîfes
The protector of earls would not, for anything,let that death-bringing guest go off alive;he counted his remaining days no useto any man living. Many a warriorof Beowulf’s drew his old blade,wanting to guard his lord’s life,their famous leader’s, if only they could;they did not know, as they fought,those hard-minded battle-men, meaning to hewat him from every side, to hunt down his soul,that no sword’s edge on earth,no war-blade whatever, would touch that sinner —he had forsworn every weapon of victory, every edge.His death, on that day of this life,was fated to be wretched,
earmlîc wurðan and se ellor-gâston feónda geweald feor sîðian.Þâ þät onfunde se þe fela ærormôdes myrðe manna cynnefyrene gefremede (he wäs fâg wið god)þät him se lîc-homa læstan nolde,ac hine se môdega mæg Hygelâceshäfde be honda; wäs gehwäðer ôðrumlifigende lâð. Lîc-sâr gebâdatol äglæca, him on eaxle wearðsyn-dolh sweotol, seonowe onsprungonburston bân-locan. Beówulfe wearðgûð-hrêð gyfeðe; scolde Grendel þonanfeorh-seóc fleón under fen-hleoðu,sêcean wyn-leás wîc; wiste þê geornor,
and his alien spirit would travel farinto the power of fiends. Then he who had longworked grief and malice on mankind,hateful to God, discoveredthat his body would fail him:the bold kinsman of Hygelachad him by the hand; each was hatefulto the other while he lived. The terrible onesuffered a wound in the flesh: plain on his shouldera gash tore open, sinews snapped,bone-joints burst apart. To Beowulfwas given the glory of battle; Grendel had to flee from there,sick to death, under the fen-slopes,to look for a joyless den; he knew all the betterthat his life’s end had come,
þät his aldres wäs ende gegongen,dôgera däg-rîm. Denum eallum wearðäfter þam wäl-ræse willa gelumpen.Häfde þâ gefælsod, se þe ær feorran com,snotor and swýð-ferhð sele Hrôðgâres,genered wið nîðe. Niht-weorce gefeh,ellen-mærðum; häfde Eást-DenumGeát-mecga leód gilp gelæsted,swylce oncýððe ealle gebêtte,inwid-sorge, þe hie ær drugonand for þreá-nýdum þolian scoldon,torn unlytel. Þät wäs tâcen sweotol,syððan hilde-deór hond âlegde,earm and eaxle (þær wäs eal geadorGrendles grâpe) under geápne hrôf.
the sum of his days counted out. For all the Danes,after that slaughter-onslaught, their wishhad come to pass at last. He who had come from far off,wise and strong-hearted, had cleansedHrothgar’s hall, saved it from violence.He rejoiced in that night’s work, in glory won;the Geatish champion had made good his boastto the people of the East-Danes, had cured them tooof all their old affliction, the malice and griefthey had suffered before, had been forced to endureunder crushing oppression, no small anguish.That was a plain sign, once the battle-hardened onehad laid down the hand — the arm and the shoulder(there lay the whole of Grendel’s claw together) —under the high-arched roof.