There he was hard-pressed
by strange beasts in the water; many sea-monsters
tore at his mail shirt with their savage tusks,
pursuing their prey.
He repaid her fierce attack
with his battle-blade, not holding back his stroke,
so the ring-adorned sword sang out on her head
a war-song greedy for blood.
The Geats bore Grendel’s head by the hair
out onto the floor where the Danes were drinking—
a terror to those nobles, and Weahtheow too
was that awesome spectacle, for all looking on.
Then Beowulf strode away,
over grassy turf, a gold-proud warrior,
exulting in treasure. The sea-going ship
awaited its master, riding on anchor.
