II


Under night's cover, Grendel crept
up to the high hall, where the Ring-Danes
slept after feasting. Sorrow was far
from their dreaming minds, they knew nothing
of man's misery. Grim and greedy,
Grendel entered, and clawed from sleep
thirty thanes to slake his hunger.
He hurried home, burdened with bodies,
proud of his plunder. Before the sun
could show his carnage, the men discovered
his bloody banquet. Loud their lamenting
rose with the dawn-light.  Long their lord
sat in sorrow, mourning his men,
loathing the sight of the bloodstained tracks
that led to Grendel's lair. Night after night
the slaughter continued. No man was blamed
if he sought sleep in other quarters.
So at last the house stood empty,
sullen and stained, that was built for gladness.

Twelve winters long this bitter anguish
harrowed the heart of the king of Denmark.
For twelve long winters Grendel's curse
darkened the Danish land with woe.
No peace was possible, no recompense
tendered up for much-mourned bodies.
No man dared step in the foggy moors
where Grendel lurked in the endless night,
setting his snares for old and young.
Men cannot know where these hellish haunters
glide with their secrets. Dismal stalker,
lone man-hater, every night
he ruled in Heorot, and never kneeled
before the gift-throne, nor knew its love.
So was Hrothgar's spirit broken.
Often the mighty sat at counsel,
pondering plans against the horror,
but offered their prayers to the wrong gods.
Such is the plight and hope of heathens.
Woe to those whom terror misleads,
whose ignorance slights the Heaven's Judge,
who thereby thrust their souls in the fire,
for no relief will come to them. Better for him
who on his death day seeks true knowledge
and heaven finds in his father's arms.



-- 
Editor, Masthead:  http://www.masthead.net.au
Blog: http://theatrenotes.blogspot.com
Home page: http://www.alisoncroggon.com