“’I have heard
    That that foul miscreant’s dark and stubborn flesh
    Recks not the force of arms:—­such I forswear,
    Nor sword nor burnish’d shield of ample round
    Ask for the war; all weaponless, hand to hand
    (So may great Higelac’s smile repay my toil)
    Beowulf will grapple with the mighty foe.’”
                                   Beowulf (Conybeare’s tr.).

The warriors had no sooner stretched themselves out upon the benches in the hall than, overcome by the oppressive air as well as by mead, they sank into a profound sleep.  Beowulf alone remained awake, watching for Grendel’s coming.  In the early morning, when all was very still, the giant appeared, tore asunder the iron bolts and bars which secured the door, and striding into the hall, enveloped in a long, damp mantle of clammy mist, he pounced upon one of the sleepers.  He tore him limb from limb, greedily drank his blood, and devoured his flesh, leaving naught but the head, hands, and feet of his unhappy victim.  This ghastly repast only whetted the fiend’s ravenous appetite, however, so he eagerly stretched out his hands in the darkness to seize and devour another warrior.  Imagine his surprise and dismay when he suddenly found his hand caught in so powerful a grasp that all his efforts could not wrench it free!

Grendel and Beowulf struggled in the darkness, overturning tables and couches, shaking the great hall to its very foundations, and causing the walls to creak and groan under the violence of their furious blows.  But in spite of Grendel’s gigantic stature, Beowulf clung so fast to the hand and arm he had grasped that Grendel, making a desperate effort to free himself by a jerk, tore the whole limb out of its socket!  Bleeding and mortally wounded, he then beat a hasty retreat to his marshy den, leaving a long, bloody trail behind him.

“Soon the dark wanderer’s ample shoulder bore
A gaping wound, each starting sinew crack’d,
And from its socket loosed the strong-knit joint.—­
The victory was with Beowulf, and the foe,
Howling and sick at heart, fled as he might,
To seek beneath the mountain shroud of mist
His joyless home; for well he knew the day
Of death was on him, and his doom was seal’d.”

          
                                                  Beowulf (Conybeare’s tr.).

As for Beowulf, exhausted but triumphant, he stood in the middle of the hall, where his companions crowded around him, gazing in speechless awe at the mighty hand and limb, and the clawlike fingers, far harder than steel, which no power had hitherto been able to resist.

At dawn Hrothgar and his subjects also appeared.  They heard with wonder a graphic account of the night’s adventures, and gazed their fill upon the monster’s limb, which hung like a trophy from the ceiling of Heorot.  After the king had warmly congratulated Beowulf, and bestowed upon him many rich gifts, he gave orders to cleanse the hall, to hang it with tapestry, and to prepare a banquet in honor of the conquering hero.