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    "Patience has its limits. Take it too far, and it's cowardice."
     

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    THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train,
    defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall;
    fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,
    couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory
    against this Grendel a guard had set,
    so heroes heard, a hall-defender,
    who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.
    In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted
    his mettle, his might, the mercy of God!
    Cast off then his corselet of iron,
    helmet from head; to his henchman gave, --
    choicest of weapons, -- the well-chased sword,
    bidding him guard the gear of battle.
    Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man,
    Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought: --
    "Of force in fight no feebler I count me,
    in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.
    Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death
    his life will I give, though it lie in my power.
    No skill is his to strike against me,
    my shield to hew though he hardy be,
    bold in battle; we both, this night,
    shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
    unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,
    sacred Lord, on which side soever
    doom decree as he deemeth right."
    Reclined then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held
    the head of the earl, while all about him
    seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.
    None of them thought that thence their steps
    to the folk and fastness that fostered them,
    to the land they loved, would lead them back!
    Full well they wist that on warriors many
    battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,
    of Danish clan. But comfort and help,
    war-weal weaving, to Weder folk
    the Master gave, that, by might of one,
    over their enemy all prevailed,
    by single strength. In sooth 'tis told
    that highest God o'er human kind
    hath wielded ever! -- Thro' wan night striding,
    came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept
    whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, --
    all save one. 'Twas widely known
    that against God's will the ghostly ravager
    him[1] could not hurl to haunts of darkness;
    wakeful, ready, with warrior's wrath,
    bold he bided the battle's issue.

    [1] Beowulf, -- the "one."
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