HROTHGAR spake, the Scyldings'-helmet: --"For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,to succor and save, thou hast sought us here.Thy father's combat {7a} a feud enkindledwhen Heatholaf with hand he slewamong the Wylfings; his Weder kinfor horror of fighting feared to hold him.Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk,over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,wielded, youthful, this widespread realm,this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,my elder brother, had breathed his last,Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!Straightway the feud with fee {7b} I settled,to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,treasures olden: oaths he {7c} swore me.Sore is my soul to say to anyof the race of man what ruth for mein Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought,what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept theminto Grendel's grasp. But God is ablethis deadly foe from his deeds to turn!Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank,earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men,that they would bide in the beer-hall here,Grendel's attack with terror of blades.Then was this mead-house at morning tidedyed with gore, when the daylight broke,all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,gory the hall: I had heroes the less,doughty dear-ones that death had reft.-- But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee."
Gathered together, the Geatish menin the banquet-hall on bench assigned,sturdy-spirited, sat them down,hardy-hearted. A henchman attended,carried the carven cup in hand,served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sangblithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled,no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane.