Beocat and Grendel's Dog
Brave Beocat,
brood-kit of Ecgthmeow,
Hearth-pet of Hrothgar
in whose high halls
He mauled without mercy
many fat mice,
Night did not find napping
nor snack-feasting.
The wary war-cat,
whiskered paw-wielder,
Bearer of the burnished neck-belt,
gold-braided collar band,
Feller of fleas
fatal, too, to ticks,
The work of wonder-smiths,
woven with witches' charms,
Sat on the throne-seat
his ears like sword-points
Upraised, sharp-tipped,
listening for peril-sounds,
When he heard from the moor-hill
howls of the hell-hound,
Gruesome hunger-grunts
of Grendel's Great Dane,
Deadly doom-mutt,
dread demon-dog.
Then boasted Beocat,
noble battle-kitten,
Bane of barrow-bunnies,
bold seeker of nest-booty:
"If hand of man unhasped
the heavy hall-door
And freed me to frolic forth
to fight the fang-bearing fiend,
I would lay the whelpling low
with lethal claw-blows;
Fur would fly
and the foe would taste death-food.
But resounding snooze-noise,
stern slumber-thunder,
Nose-music of men snoring
mead-hammered in the wine-hall,
Fills me with sorrow-feeling
for Fate does not see fit
To send some fingered folk
to lift the firm-fastened latch
That I might go grapple
with the grim ghoul-pooch."
Thus spoke the mouse-shredder,
hunter of hall-pests,
Short-haired Hrodent-slayer,
greatest of pussy-Geats.
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