of mail, helmet, and sword.

Through the dim night Grendel came stealing. All slept in the darkness,
all but one! The door sprang open at the first touch that the monster
gave it. He trod quickly over the paved floor of the hall; his eyes
gleamed as he saw a troop of kinsmen lying together asleep. He laughed
as he reckoned on sucking the life of each one before day broke. He
seized a sleeping warrior, and in a trice had crunched his bones. Then
he stretched out his hand to seize Beowulf on his bed. Quickly did
Beowulf grip his arm; he stood up full length and grappled with him with
all his might, till his fingers cracked as though they would burst.
Never had Grendel felt such a grip; he had a mind to go, but could not.
He roared, and the hall resounded with his yells, as up and down he
raged, with Beowulf holding him in a fast embrace. The benches were
overturned, the timbers of the hall cracked, the beautiful hall was all
but wrecked. Beowulf's men had seized their weapons and thought to hack
Grendel on every side, but no blade could touch him. Still Beowulf held
him by the arm; his shoulder cracked, and he fled, wounded to death,
leaving hand, arm, and shoulder in Beowulf's grasp. Over the moors, into
the darkness, he sped as best he might, and to Beowulf was the victory.

Then, in the morning, many a warrior came from far and near. Riding in
troops, they tracked the monster's path, where he had fled stricken to
death. In a dismal pool he had yielded up his life.

Racing their horses over the green turf, they reached again the paved
street. The golden roof of the palace glittered in the sunlight. The
King stood on the terrace and gave thanks to God. "I have had much woe,"
he said, "but this lad, through God's might, has done the deed that we,
with all our wisdom, could not do. Now I will heartily love you,