/0/17006/coverbig.jpg?v=1d2bb1674312e4fc24ddce6a320668bf)
710 Came then from the moor-land, all under the mist-bents,
Grendel a-going there, bearing God's anger.
The scather the ill one was minded of mankind
To have one in his toils from the high hall aloft.
'Neath the welkin he waded, to the place whence the wine-house,
The gold-hall of men, most yarely he wist
With gold-plates fair col
COPYRIGHT(©) 2022