High the height of Grendel’s head
Murdering maw, payer of warrior’s wages
Bones broken for their braveness.
He, horror of Heorot, bloodied the bright banquets.
Head of hell, Dane-destroyer.
Brave the blood in Beowulf’s veins.
Salvation to strangers, God-given charity,
Strength revolutionary.
Far from Geatland sailed he, his goal framed gallantly.
Veins valorous, noble man.
Fool the fiend, to seek to strive
With that great Geat. Too late! Far flown the time to flee.
Yet ran he, leaving, they write,
An arm. An arm, ripped from its rest by Geat so brave.
Strife-sacked, Blood-biter ran dead.
Good the Geat who sailing home
Brought glory to his king with great gifts and stories
Handsome to hear and behold.
Triumphant over evil, yet humble was he.
Home from Heorot, the destined king.
Long the length of time he served
Protecting his people, vanquishing the vermin
Of Cain’s cursed loins. The dragon,
Gold-greedy, wreaked havoc, angry as a lion,
Served burnt fields and fright to Geatland.
Right the ruler who stands to fight.
But savage snapping snake, fooler of Eve, that demon,
Knows much of inflicting pain.
Heavy the toll of the blows, loud the battle din.
Fight on, may angels lead you.
Dark the day when brave men bow
Abandoned by friends, forsaken by the trusted.
Fighting weary and weakened,
The fiery flower of youth fallen and faded
Bow to weight of age and time.
Oh my king, my lord,
You’ll not fight alone!
I’m weak and young, the least of your host.
But to you, my lord, I’ll run to your aid.
Stand steady, my lord,
You’ll not fight alone.
Gone the Geat, my lord, my liege.
The snake struck shoulder with foul fangs; his days were spent.
Cries of anguish tore the night.
The lizard, dead by Beowulf’s blow, healed not the split,
Liege lord, nor the split in my heart.
Oh my king, my lord,
You’ll not fight alone!
I am weak and young, the least of your host.
But for you, my lord, I’ll fight for your cause.
Steady me, my lord,
I’ll not fight alone.
