O’er the ale-vessel promised warriors in armor They would willingly wait on the wassailing-benches A grapple with Grendel, with grimmest of edges. Then this mead-hall at morning with murder was reeking, The building was bloody at breaking of daylight, The bench-deals all flooded, dripping and bloodied, The folk-hall was gory: I had fewer retainers, Dear-beloved warriors, whom death had laid hold of. Sit at the feast now, thy intents unto heroes, Thy victor-fame show, as thy spirit doth urge thee!” For the men of the Geats then together assembled, In the beer-hall blithesome a bench was made ready; There warlike in spirit they went to be seated, Proud and exultant. A liegeman did service, Who a beaker embellished bore with decorum, And gleaming-drink poured. The gleeman sang whilom 15 Hearty in Heorot; there was heroes’ rejoicing, A numerous war-band of Weders and Danemen.