The weltering waves. Not a word hath been told me Of deeds so daring done by thee, Unferth, And of sword-terror none; never hath Breca At the play of the battle, nor either of you two, Feat so fearless performèd with weapons Glinting and gleaming ⋮ ⋮ I utter no boasting; Though with cold-blooded cruelty thou killedst thy brothers, Thy nearest of kin; thou needs must in hell get Direful damnation, though doughty thy wisdom. I tell thee in earnest, offspring of Ecglaf, Never had Grendel such numberless horrors, The direful demon, done to thy liegelord, Harrying in Heorot, if thy heart were as sturdy, Thy mood as ferocious as thou dost describe them. He hath found out fully that the fierce-burning hatred, The edge-battle eager, of all of your kindred, Of the Victory-Scyldings, need little dismay him: Oaths he exacteth, not any he spares Of the folk of the Danemen, but fighteth with pleasure, Killeth and feasteth, no contest expecteth