On Cain's kindred did the everlasting Lord avenge the murder, for that he had slain Abel; he had no joy of that feud, but the Creator drove him far from mankind for that misdeed. Thence all evil broods were born, ogres and devils and evil spirits the giants also, who long time fought with God, for which he gave them their reward.
They have seen my strength for themselves, have watched me rise from the darkness of war, dripping with my enemies' blood. I drove five great giants into chains, chased all of that race from the earth. I swam in the blackness of night, hunting monsters out of the ocean, and killing them one by one; death was my errand and the fate they had earned. Now Grendel and I are called together, and I've come.
Fate goes ever as fate must.
Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has not already marked.
Fate saves the living when they drive away death by themselves!
Grendel is no braver, no stronger than I am! I could kill him with my sword; I shall not, easy as it would be. This fiend is a bold and famous fighter, but his claws and teeth... beating at my sword blade, would be helpless. I will meet him with my hands empty--unless his heart fails him, seeing a soldier waiting weaponless, unafraid. Let God in His wisdom extend His hand where He wills, reward whom he chooses!
He strode quickly across the inlaid floor, snarling and fierce: his eyes gleamed in the darkness, burned with a gruesome light. Then he stopped, seeing the hall crowded with sleeping warriors,... and his heart laughed, he relished the sight, intended to tear the life from those bodies by morning.
The swirling surf had covered his death, hidden deep in murky darkness his miserable end, as hell opened to receive him.
His vanity swelled him so vile and rank that he could hear no voices but his own. He deserved to suffer and die. But Beowulf was a prince well-loved, followed in friendship, not fear.
the Almighty makes miracles when he pleases, wonder after wonder, and this world rests in his hands.
Steams like black clouds, and the groves of trees growing out over their lake are all covered with frozen spray, and wind down snakelike roots that reach as far as the water and help keep it dark. At night that lake burns like a torch. No one knows its bottom, no wisdom reaches such depths.
Better is it for each one of us that he should avenge his friend, than greatly mourn.
Each of us must expect an end of living in this world; let him who may win glory before death: for that is best at last for the departed warrior.
Let whoever can win glory before death. When a warrior is gone, that will be his best and only bulwark.
fame after death is the noblest of goals.
Beowulf got ready, donned his war-gear, indifferent to death.
Our eternal Lord grants some men wisdom, some wealth, makes others great. The world is God's, He allows a man to grow famous, and his family rich, gives him land and towns to rule and delight in ... and who in human unwisdom, in the middle of such power, remembers that it will all end, and too soon?
Incline not to arrogance, famous warrior! Now shall the fullness of thy strength last for a while. But soon after it shall be, that malady or sword shall cut thee off from power, or the embrace of fire or welling of a flood, or onset with the knife, or arrow's flight, or hideous old age. Or brightness of eyes shall diminish and grow dim, and at length it shall be that death shall overpower thee.
How many wars have been put to rest in a prince's bed? Few. A bride can bring a little peace, make spears silent for a time, but not long.
Beowulf had brought his king horses and treasure--as a man must, not weaving nets of malice for his comrades, preparing their death in the dark, with secret, cunning tricks.
There is no joy of harp, no pastime with the gladdening lute; no good hawk sweeps through the hall, nor does the swift steed paw the courtyard. Baleful death has banished hence many of the human race.
My heart is firm, my hands calm: I need no hot words.
A warrior will sooner die than live a life of shame.