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Beowulf

At last day was gone
To the worm’s delight; he delayed no further
Inside his walls, but issued forth flaming
Armed with fire
That was a fearful beginning
For the people of that country; uncomfortable and swift
Was the end to be likewise for their lord and treasure giver

So the visitant began to vomit flames
And burn the bright dwellings; the blazing rose skyward
And men were afraid; the flying scourge
Did not mean to leave one living thing
On every side the serpent’s ravages
The spite of the foe, sprang to the eye
How this hostile assailant hated and injured
The men of the Geats.  Before morning’s light
He flew back to the hoard in its hidden chamber
He had poured out fire and flame on the people
He had put them to the torch; he trusted now to the barrow’s walls
And to his fighting strength.  His faith misled him

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Again and again the enemy of man
Stalking unseen, struck terrible
And bitter blows.  In the black nights
He camped in the hall, under Heorot’s gold roof
Yet he could not touch the treasure throne
Against the Lord’s will, whose love was unknown to him

A great grief was it for the Guardian of the Scyldings
Crushing to his spirit.  The council lords
Sat there daily to devise some plan,
What might be best for brave hearted
Danes to contrive against these terror raids.
They prayed aloud, promising sometimes
On the altars of their idols unholy sacrifices
If the Slayer of souls would send relief to the suffering people