“Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better 1390 friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them. Each of us all must his end abide in the ways of the world; so win who may glory ere death! When his days are told, that is the warrior’s worthiest doom. 1395 Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon, and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel. No harbor shall hide her—heed my promise!— enfolding of field or forested mountain or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will! 1400 But thou this day endure in patience, as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one.”
