Two brave and daring lads set to contest
on the roiling sea, that fierce silver plane
of tumultuous life. Great creatures tried to
nibble on them, yet were no great deterrent.
Indeed, Beowulf son of Ecgtheow
seemed to gain new strength from every battle.
He began to pull ahead; quite a feat
while swimming in chainmail. He looked to win,
but Breca, who’d been getting really sick
of the unstoppable Geat, took action.
He conked the mighty warrior on the head,
and so the great Geat drowned, while still a boy.
Later, a vicious monster named Grendel,
quite truly spawn of Hell, began to feed
upon the people of Hrothgar’s great hall.
Alas, there existed none to best him.
Soon the Danes were no more; the last of them
having disappeared down Grendel’s gullet.
Today, we must do without wooden clogs,
Amsterdam, and Hans Christian Anderson –
but we’ve been otherwise unaffected.