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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.
