Within the hall all was gladness, but without on the lone moorland there stalked a grim monster, named Grendel, whose dark heart was filled with anger and hate.
He, the Grendel, set off then after night was come to seek the lofty house, to see how the Ring Danes had ordered it after the service of beer.
And now far across the sea a brave man of the Goths, Beowulf by name, heard of the doings of Grendel, and he made up his mind to come to the aid of King Hrothgar.
Then under veils of mist came Grendel from the moor; he bare God's anger.
But Grendel escaped, though wounded to death indeed, and leaving his hand, arm, and shoulder behind in Beowulf's grip.
Grendel indeed was slain, but his mother, an ogre almost as fierce as he, was ready to avenge him.
I would not bear sword or weapon against the worm if I knew how else I might proudly grapple with the wretch, as I of old with Grendel did.
Perhaps he was the old Germanic god Beowa, and his exploits originally allegories, like some of those in the Greek mythology, of his services to man; he may, for instance, first have been the sun, driving away the mists and cold of winter and of the swamps, hostile forces personified in Grendel
and his mother.
In it, he, his queen and his warriors spend their time singing and celebrating, until Grendel
, a troll-like monster who is pained by the noise, attacks the hall and kills and devours many of Hrothgar warriors while they sleep.