And turned by the wall then, Higelac’s vassal
          Raging and wrathful raised his battle-sword
          Strong by the handle.  The edge was not useless
       20 To the hero-in-battle, but he speedily wished to
          Give Grendel requital for the many assaults he
          Had worked on the West-Danes not once, but often,
          When he slew in slumber the subjects of Hrothgar,
          Swallowed down fifteen sleeping retainers
       25 Of the folk of the Danemen, and fully as many
          Carried away, a horrible prey. 
          He gave him requital, grim-raging champion,

{Beowulf sees the body of Grendel, and cuts off his head.}

          When he saw on his rest-place weary of conflict
          Grendel lying, of life-joys bereaved,
       30 As the battle at Heorot erstwhile had scathed him;
          His body far bounded, a blow when he suffered,
          Death having seized him, sword-smiting heavy,
          And he cut off his head then.  Early this noticed
          The clever carles who as comrades of Hrothgar

{The waters are gory.}

       35 Gazed on the sea-deeps, that the surging wave-currents
          Were mightily mingled, the mere-flood was gory: 
          Of the good one the gray-haired together held converse,

{Beowulf is given up for dead.}

          The hoary of head, that they hoped not to see again
          The atheling ever, that exulting in victory
       40 He’d return there to visit the distinguished folk-ruler: 
[55] Then many concluded the mere-wolf had killed him.[1]
          The ninth hour came then.  From the ness-edge departed
          The bold-mooded Scyldings; the gold-friend of heroes
          Homeward betook him.  The strangers sat down then
       45 Soul-sick, sorrowful, the sea-waves regarding: 
          They wished and yet weened not their well-loved friend-lord

{The giant-sword melts.}

          To see any more.  The sword-blade began then,
          The blood having touched it, contracting and shriveling
          With battle-icicles; ’twas a wonderful marvel
       50 That it melted entirely, likest to ice when
          The Father unbindeth the bond of the frost and
          Unwindeth the wave-bands, He who wieldeth dominion
          Of times and of tides:  a truth-firm Creator. 
          Nor took he of jewels more in the dwelling,
       55 Lord of the Weders, though they lay all around him,
          Than the head and the handle handsome with jewels;
[56] The brand early melted, burnt was the weapon:[2]
          So hot was the blood, the strange-spirit poisonous

{The hero swims back to the realms of day.}