Hateful little king!
Spiteful little king!
Vengeful little king, who
took my son away,
my darling child.
Damn you Beowulf!
You who killed my son
and said it was a noble act,
a righteous act!
No man can cure a mother's bile!
No man can take away the grief!
No man can rectify the pain!
No golden sword can mend
the damage you have done to me!
My monster boy, he was so precious,
my charming son, I will have you!
You think your savagery
balances the world?
You think we are all dark reflections.
You think your sacred sword
puts right in the world?
Hateful little king! Spiteful little king!
Vengeful little king, who took my son!

Whatever good features Grendel may
have had, he must have inherited them
from his father. Grendel's Mother
set new standards in ugliness. I felt
my best answer to her bitter words
would be delivered via my sword. But
Unferth's blade wasn't any use. It
barely made a dent. It just bounced
off her. I threw it down and quickly
searched the cave for something
better. Lying among all the bones
of the Grendel family's unfortunate
guests there was an enormous blade
- made by giants it seemed. I grasped
it gladly, just as Grendel's Mother
was coming in for a killing blow with
her wicked-looking knife. I swung
the giant sword it in a huge high arc
and walloped off her head. Blessed
silence! I thought I'd never shut her
up. However her blood was so vile
and poisonous that even this ancient
giant-made sword dissolved into
thin air. Dragging her head I made
my way back to Hrothgar's Hall. The
celebration for Grendel's death had
been sensational. Men thought no party
could ever be better. They were wrong.