Full oft have they boasted with beer well bedrunken,

My men of the battle all over the ale-stoup,

That they in the beer-hall would yet be abiding

The onset of Grendel with the terror of edges.

But then was this mead-hall in the tide of the morning,

This warrior-hall, gore-stain'd when day at last gleamed,

All the boards of the benches with blood besteam'd over,

The hall laid with sword-gore: of lieges less had I

Of dear and of doughty, for them death had gotten.

Now sit thou to feast and unbind thy mood freely,

490

Thy war-fame unto men as the mind of thee whetteth.

Then was for the Geat-folk and them all together

There in the beer-hall a bench bedight roomsome,

There the stout-hearted hied them to sitting

Proud in their might: a thane minded the service,

Who in hand upbare an ale-stoup adorned,

Skinked the sheer mead; whiles sang the shaper

Clear out in Hart-hall; joy was of warriors,

Men doughty no little of Danes and of Weders.