E'en they who the gift-seat for the Geat-folk had ferry'd,
Brought thither for thanks, that of thirty of menfolk
The craft of might hath he within his own handgrip,
That war-strong of men. Now him holy God
For kind help hath sent off here even to us,
We men of the West Danes, as now I have weening,
'Gainst the terror of Grendel. So I to that good one
For his mighty mood-daring shall the dear treasure bid.
Haste now and be speedy, and bid them in straightway,
The kindred-band gather'd together, to see us,