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.
Then he stepped to another Still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws, Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper—And was instantly seized himself, claws Bent back as Beowulf leaned up on one arm.
They could hack at Grendel From every side, but their points Could not hurt him. And yet his time had come, his days Were over, his death near; down To hell he would go
The battle was over, Beowulf Had been granted new glory: Grendel escaped, But wounded as he was could flee to his den, His miserable hole at the bottom of the marsh, Only to die.