Narrative Poem on Beowulf

This murderous malignancy hit my receive and me. Not content to conquer and kill, my doubt this warrior of the wielder of work force drug my head in front of women, Hrothgar, and other men. One, old, trying monster me, had his head by the hair drug during a feast of whole caboodle across the floor. paragon has not keep an eye on Grendel for graven image is not Grendel's savior. God has guarded Beowulf, guarded him against Grendel and Grendel's mother. God guards Grendel's murderer and the murderer of Grendel's mother. Mighty God granted Grendel and Grendel's mother no glory, no gold, and no great shield against Beowulf. God does not goad Grendel, for God that grants Grendel's murderer gold is no God of Grendel's.

This nasty nephew of the King of the Geats is granted God's favor, forsaking Grendel and Grendel's no more than mother. Much more of a man than Beowulf deserves God's favor, for the Dane killer is a killer of mothers, a cowardly killing motorcar most killing when most rewarded by men he kills for to please. Legendary leper of Norse nonsense, Beowulf lies beneath the bottom levels of life. Such a shining shadow does Beowulf throw amon

I say before Beowulf is carried to celebration, cause for berating is greater cause for sure. Beowulf, Beowulf, murderer in warrior mask, make my message from the pits be your last blast. My mother lies slain, her heavenly head divide same as mine, while you Geats grossly see it as cause to criminally dine.

Treasures trap your treacherous, terrible things, hovering about your rattling terrible head, when what I think is you kill women dead. No more honor, hope, nor horrors shall I hear, if once more one moment your head I could meet. My death may be the drop of victory you need to fill your fatted feasting cup, but would warriors want to toast with a weak, family destroying dog?

g those who think his significant deeds do on him bestow such aggrandizement as any deserves. Dark, dreadful, deeds does he do, what glory deserves him who mothers doth slain? Weak, willingful, untimely to wipe away my mother and me, Beowulf is nothing more nor less(prenominal) than the wanton personification of evil. They say I sit in shadows stinking with the smell of the slain, but among them no mothers murdered will smell anyone's way. This woeful warrior wants goodwill for his contemptuous crimes, cry
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