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Grendel the Murderer

Grendel the Murderer





Grendel the Murderer.
Composition and Spoken Word by Wesley Tilson.

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Grendel the Murderer.


THEN from the moorland, || by misty crags,
With God's wrath laden, || Grendel came.

The monster was minded, || of mankind now,
Sundry to seize, || in the stately house.


Under welkin he walked, || till the wine-palace there,
Gold-hall of men, || he gladly discerned,
Flashing with fretwork. || 

To the house the warrior,
Walked apace, || parted from peace.


The portal opened though, || with forged bolts fast,
When his fists, || had struck it.

And evil he burst, || in his blatant rage,
The house's mouth. ||

 

All hastily then,
O?er fair-paved floor, || the fiend trod on,
Ireful he strode, || there streamed from his eyes,
Fearful flashes, || like flame to see.

He spied in hall, || the hero-band,
Kin and clansmen, || clustered asleep,
Hardy liegemen. || 

Then laughed his heart,
For the monster was minded, || ere morn should dawn,
Savage to sever, || the soul of each,
Life from body, || since lusty banquet,
Waited his will! || 

But Wyrd forbade him,
To seize any more, || of men on earth,
After that evening.


Straightway he seized, || a sleeping warrior,
For the first and tore, || him fiercely asunder,
The bone-frame bit, || drank blood in streams,
Swallowed him piecemeal, || swiftly thus,
The lifeless corpse, || was clear devoured,
Even feet and hands. || 

Then farther he hied,
For the hardy hero, || with hand he grasped,
Felt for the foe, || with fiendish claw,
For the hero reclining, || who clutched it boldly,
Prompt to answer, || propped on his arm.

Soon then saw, || that shepherd-of-evils,
That never he met, || in this middle-world,
In the ways of earth, || another wight,
With heavier hand-grip, || at heart he feared,
Sorrowed in soul, || none the sooner escaped!

Then bethought him the hardy, || Hygelac-thane,
Of his boast at evening, || up he bounded,
Grasped firm his foe, || whose fingers cracked.


The fiend made off, || but the earl close followed.

 

NOT in any wise would, || the earls'-defence,
Suffer that slaughterous, || stranger to live,
Useless deeming, || his days and years,
To men on earth.

He was safe by his spells, || from sword of battle,
From edge of iron. ||

 

The outlaw dire,
Took mortal hurt, || a mighty wound,
Showed on his shoulder, || and sinews cracked,
And the bone-frame burst. || 

To Beowulf now,
The glory was given, || and Grendel thence,
Death-sick his den, || in the dark moor sought,
Noisome abode, || he knew too well,
That here was the last, || of life, an end,
Of his days on earth. ||

 

To all the Danes,
By that bloody battle, || the boon had come.