Читать книгу Hero-Myths & Legends of the British Race - M. I. Ebbutt - Страница 10

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Day by day the feasting continued, until its noise and the festal joy of its revellers aroused a mighty enemy, Grendel, the loathsome fen-monster. This monstrous being, half-man, half-fiend, dwelt in the fens near the hill on which Heorot stood. Terrible was he, dangerous to men, of extraordinary strength, human in shape but gigantic of stature, covered with a green horny skin, on which the sword would not bite. His race, all sea-monsters, giants, goblins, and evil demons, were offspring of Cain, outcasts from the mercy of the Most High, hostile to the human race; and Grendel was one of mankind’s most bitter enemies; hence his hatred of the joyous shouts from Heorot, and his determination to stop the feasting.

“This the dire mighty fiend, he who in darkness dwelt,

Suffered with hatred fierce, that every day and night

He heard the festal shouts loud in the lofty hall;

Sound of harp echoed there, and gleeman’s sweet song.

Thus they lived joyously, fearing no angry foe

Until the hellish fiend wrought them great woe.

Grendel that ghost was called, grisly and terrible,

Who, hateful wanderer, dwelt in the moorlands,

The fens and wild fastnesses; the wretch for a while abode

In homes of the giant-race, since God had cast him out.

When night on the earth fell, Grendel departed

To visit the lofty hall, now that the warlike Danes

After the gladsome feast nightly slept in it.

A fair troop of warrior-thanes guarding it found he;

Heedlessly sleeping, they recked not of sorrow.

The demon of evil, the grim wight unholy,

With his fierce ravening, greedily grasped them,

Seized in their slumbering thirty right manly thanes;

Thence he withdrew again, proud of his lifeless prey,

Home to his hiding-place, bearing his booty,

In peace to devour it.”

“The demon of evil, with his fierce ravening, greedily grasped them”

When dawn broke, and the Danes from their dwellings around the hall entered Heorot, great was the lamentation, and dire the dismay, for thirty noble champions had vanished, and the blood-stained tracks of the monster showed but too well the fate that had overtaken them. Hrothgar’s grief was profound, for he had lost thirty of his dearly loved bodyguard, and he himself was too old to wage a conflict against the foe—a foe who repeated night by night his awful deeds, in spite of all that valour could do to save the Danes from his terrible enmity. At last no champion would face the monster, and the Danes, in despair, deserted the glorious hall of which they had been so proud. Useless stood the best of dwellings, for none dared remain in it, but every evening the Danes left it after their feast, and slept elsewhere. This affliction endured for twelve years, and all that time the beautiful hall of Heorot stood empty when darkness was upon it. By night the dire fiend visited it in search of prey, and in the morning his footsteps showed that his deadly enmity was not yet appeased, but that any effort to use the hall at night would bring down his fatal wrath on the careless sleepers.

Far and wide spread the tidings of this terrible oppression, and many champions came from afar to offer King Hrothgar their aid, but none was heroic enough to conquer the monster, and many a mighty warrior lost his life in a vain struggle against Grendel. At length even these bold adventurers ceased to come; Grendel remained master of Heorot, and the Danes settled down in misery under the bondage of a perpetual nightly terror, while Hrothgar grew old in helpless longing for strength to rescue his people from their foe.