æt þām wǣrlogan wīc gecēosað.
Þonne þæt gecnāweð of cwicsūsle
flāh fēond gemāh, þætte fīra gehwylc
40 hæleþa cynnes on his hringe biþ
fæste gefēged, hē him feorgbona,
þurh slīþen searo, siþþan weorþeð,
wloncum and hēanum þe his willan hēr
firenum fremmað; mid þām hē fǣringa,
45 heoloþhelme biþeaht, helle sēceð,
gōda gēasne, grundlēasne wylm
under mistglōme, swā se micla hwæl
se þe bisenceð sǣlīþende
eorlas and ȳðmearas.
50 wæterþisa wlonc, wrǣtlīcran gīen.
Þonne hine on holme hunger bysgað,
and þone āglǣcan ǣtes lysteþ,
ðonne se mereweard mūð ontȳneð,
them at will so that they seek help and support from fiends, until they end by making their fixed abode with the betrayer. When, from out his living torture, the crafty, malicious enemy perceives that any one is firmly settled within his domain, he proceeds, by his malignant wiles, to become the slayer of that man, be he rich or poor, who sinfully does his will; and, covered by his cap of darkness, suddenly betakes himself with them to hell, where naught of good is found, a bottomless abyss shrouded in misty gloom—like that monster which engulfs the ocean-traversing men and ships.
This proud tosser of the waves has another and still more wonderful trait. When hunger plagues him on the deep, and the monster longs for food, this haunter of the sea opens his mouth, and sets his lips agape;
