Page:Gummere (1909) The Oldest English Epic.djvu/74

58 never they knew,—as they neared the foe, hardy-hearted heroes of war, aiming their swords on every side the accursed to kill,—no keenest blade, no fairest of falchions fashioned on earth, could harm or hurt that hideous fiend! He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle, from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting on that same day of this our life woful should be, and his wandering soul far off flit to the fiends’ domain. Soon he found, who in former days, harmful in heart and hated of God, on many a man such murder wrought, that the frame of his body failed him now. For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac held in hand; hateful alive was each to other. The outlaw dire took mortal hurt; a mighty wound showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked, and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now the glory was given, and Grendel thence death-sick his den in the dark moor sought, noisome abode: he knew too well that here was the last of life, an end of his days on earth.—To all the Danes by that bloody battle the boon had come. From ravage had rescued the roving stranger