XII

the whole of the heavens, no hand-grapple greater In any man else had he ever encountered: Fearful in spirit, faint-mooded waxed he, Not off could betake him; death he was pondering, Would fly to his covert, seek the devils’ assembly: His calling no more was the same he had followed Long in his lifetime. The liege-kinsman worthy Of Higelac minded his speech of the evening, Stood he up straight and stoutly did seize him. His fingers crackled; the giant was outward, The earl stepped farther. The famous one minded To flee away farther, if he found an occasion, And off and away, avoiding delay, To fly to the fen-moors; he fully was ware of The strength of his grapple in the grip of the foeman. ’Twas an ill-taken journey that the injury-bringing, Harrying harmer to Heorot wandered: The palace re-echoed; to all of the Danemen, Dwellers in castles, to each of the bold ones, Earlmen, was terror. Angry they both were, Archwarders raging. Rattled the building; ’Twas a marvellous wonder that the wine-hall withstood then The bold-in-battle, bent not to earthward, Excellent earth-hall; but within and without it Was fastened so firmly in fetters of iron, By the art of the armorer. Off from the sill there Bent mead-benches many, as men have informed me, Adorned with gold-work, where the grim ones did struggle. The Scylding wise men weened ne’er before That by might and main-strength a man under heaven Might break it in pieces, bone-decked, resplendent, Crush it by cunning, unless clutch of the fire In smoke should consume it. The sound mounted upward Novel enough; on the North Danes fastened A terror of anguish, on all of the men there Who heard from the wall the weeping and plaining, The song of defeat from the foeman of heaven, Heard him hymns of horror howl, and his sorrow Hell-bound bewailing. He held him too firmly Who was strongest of main-strength of men of that era.