A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

lack marshes, unknowing that in the land of the Goths there was
growing to manhood one whose feet already should be echoing along
that path from which Death was to come.
In the realm of the Goths, Hygelac was king, and no greater hero lived
in his kingdom than Beowulf, his own sister's son. From the age of
seven Beowulf was brought up at the court of his uncle.
A great, fair, blue-eyed lad was Beowulf, lazy, and very slow to wrath.
When he had at last become a yellow-haired giant, of wondrous
good-temper, and leisurely in movement, the other young warriors of
Gothland had mocked at him as at one who was only a very huge, very
amiable child. But, like others of the same descent, Beowulf's anger, if
slow to kindle, was a terrible fire once it began to flame. A few of those
flares-up had shown the folk of his uncle's kingdom that no mean nor
evil deed might lightly be done, nor evil word spoken in the presence of
Beowulf. In battle against the Swedes, no sword had hewn down more
men than the sword of Beowulf. And when the champion swimmer of
the land of the Goths challenged the young giant Beowulf to swim a
match with him, for five whole days they swam together. A tempest
driving down from the twilight land of the ice and snow parted them
then, and he who had been champion was driven ashore and thankfully
struggled on to the beach of his own dear country once again. But the
foaming seas cast Beowulf on some jagged cliffs, and would fain have
battered his body into broken fragments against them, and as he fought
and struggled to resist their raging cruelty, mermaids and nixies and
many monsters of the deep joined forces with the waves and strove to
wrest his life from him. And while with one hand he held on to a sharp
rock, with the other he dealt with his sword stark blows on those
children of the deep who would fain have devoured him. Their bodies,
deep-gashed and dead, floated down to the coast of Gothland, and the
king and all those who looked for the corpse of Beowulf saw them,
amazed. Then at length came Beowulf himself, and with great gladness
was he welcomed, and the king, his uncle, gave him his treasured
sword, Nägeling, in token of his valour.
In the court of Hrothgar, the number of brave warriors ever grew