He waded under billowing-clouds and came
into line of sight with the gilded wine-hall of men,
stained with shining gold. It was not the first time
he’d sought the home of Hrothgar,
but never, not in his living days before, and not since,
would he find harder luck or hall-holders.
He came then to the building, the warrior journeyed,
deprived of joy. The fire-tempered firm door
quickly gave out once his hands touched it.
It swung open to the malignant one,
and then he grew swollen, at the building’s mouth open.
Quickly after, on the shining floor,
the fiend treaded, moving angrily.
From his eyes arose, most like fire,
a light unbeautiful.
In the keep he saw many ranks,
a sleeping band of kinsmen gathered together,
a heap of soldier sons. Then his mind laughed.
He thought that before day came
he, the terrible, awesome one, would sever
each one’s life from his body,
as in him was arising a deep, eaters hunger.