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Out from the marsh, from the foot of the misty Hills and bogs, bearing God's hat
Up from his swampland,sliding silently toward that gold-shining hall
Grendel snatched at the first Geat He came to, ripped him apart, cut His body to bits with powerful jaws, drank the blood from his veins, and bolted him down, hands and feet
Then he stepped to another Still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws, grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper
Grendel escaped, But wounded as he was could flee to his den, His miserable hole a the bottom of the marsh, Only to die, to wait for the end Of all his days
Grendel is dead, the hall is safe for now
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