Selre bið æghwæm
þæt he his freond wrece, þonne he fela murne
Aris, rices weard, uton hraþe feron
Grendles magan gang sceawigan
Ic hit þe gehate: no he on helm losaþ
Ne on foldan fæþm, ne on fyrgen-holt
Ne on gyfenes grund, ga þær he wille
ac he hraþe wolde
Grendle forgyldan guð-ræsa fela
ðara þe he geworhte to West-Denum
Oftor micle ðonne on ænne sið
þonne he Hroðgares heorð-geneatas
sloh on sweofote. He him þæs lean forgeald
ond hine þa heafde becearf