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Updated: June 11, 2025
He roared, and the hall resounded with his yells, as up and down he raged, with Beowulf holding him in a fast embrace. The benches were overturned, the timbers of the hall cracked, the beautiful hall was all but wrecked. Beowulf's men had seized their weapons and thought to hack Grendel on every side, but no blade could touch him.
Loud were the songs of triumph in Hart Hall, great the rejoicing, for Beowulf had made good his boast. He had cleansed the hall of the ogre. A splendid feast was made and much treasure given to Beowulf by the King and Queen. Again did the Dane lords sleep in the great hall, but far away in the water-dragons' lake the mother of Grendel wept over the dead body of her son, desiring revenge.
A poem, The Diabo-Lady, or a Match in Hell, appeared in London in 1777. According to Teutonic mythology, this diabolical Madonna is the mother or the grandmother of Satan. The mother or grandmother of Grendel, the Anglo-Saxon evil demon, became Satan’s mother or grandmother by adoption. A mother was a necessary part of the devil’s equipment.
If the dragon story in the saga is a modification of the Grendel story in Beowulf, or if it is a modification even of the story about the fire-spewing dragon, there has been a change, not only in the details of the story and the nature of the monster, but it has been transferred from one well-defined type of story to another.
With waves of care my sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted my loved one's venture: long I begged thee by no means to seek that slaughtering monster, but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud themselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked that safe and sound I can see thee now!"
Now as he said that, the old man looked kindly, but searchingly, at me, and I rebelled against it: but he was so saintly looking that I might not be angry, so tried to turn it off. "Turkil the Valiant called me Grendel, Father. Also I think you came out to exorcise the same by name, for I heard it in the Latin. But that was a heathen fiend." The hermit sighed a little and answered me.
"Why not?" "By reason of what it was made of." Then I remembered that a thrall might by no means slay the deer, and that he would surely be in fear when he knew that one had found him out. So I said to the boy: "Grendel ate it, doubtless. Nor you nor I know what was in the honest man's pot."
The trolls make their appearance as usual, and with the aid of a tame polar bear Per Gynt puts them to flight. But these stories must be sharply differentiated from the Bjarki story and others of its type; so that while the Grettir story and the Grendel story are essentially of the same type, the story about the winged monster in the Hrólfssaga and the Grendel story are not of the same type.
Down and down he dived till he came to the cave of the water-witch whom he killed after a desperate struggle. Hard by on a couch lay the body of Grendel. Drawing his sword he smote off the ogre's head. Swimming up with it he reached the surface and sprang to land, and was greeted by his faithful thanes. Four of them were needed to carry the huge head back to Hart Hall.
When the song was ended, each got two little glasses; then they could go. Grendel cursed aloud. "That damned hill-devil swallows it all up," muttered Wulf. And they went off through the snow. The others sang and played and played cards for ever so long and 'twas late when Maarten took his star and, with a "Good-night till next year," pulled the door behind him.
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