could touch the cursed foe, for that he used enchantment against conquering weapons, every sort of blades.

In this life’s day his breaking-up was to be pitiable—the alien spirit was to journey far into the power of fiends. Then he who of yore had accomplished much of the joy of his heart, of crime against mankind, he, the rebel against God, discovered this—that his bodily frame was no help to him, but that the bold kinsman of Hygelac had him by the hands. While he lived, each was abhorrent to the other. The horrible wretch suffered deadly hurt, on his shoulder gaped a wound past remedy, the sinews sprang asunder, the tendons burst. Glory in fight was granted to Beowulf; Grendel, sick to death, must needs flee thence under the fen-fastnesses—seek out his joyless dwelling;—he knew too well that the end of his life had come, the (daily-) number of his days. After that bloody contest, the desire of all the Danes had come to pass!