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A passage from the epic poem Beowulf, recounting the hero’s battle with the ferocious monster Godsylla.

Meanehwæl, baccat meaddehæle,         monstær lurccen;
Fulle few too many drincce,         hie luccen for fyht.
Ðen Hreorfneorhtðhwr,         son of Hrwærowþheororthwl,
Æsccen æwful jeork         to steop outsyd.
Þhid! Bashe! Crasch! Beoom!         Ðe bigge gye
Eallum his bon brak,         byt his nose offe;
Wicced Godsylla         wæled on his asse.
Monstær moppe fleor wyþ         eallum men in hælle.
Beowulf in bacceroome         fonecall bemaccen wæs;
Hearen sond of ruccus         sæd, “Hwæt ðe helle?”
Graben sheold srang,         ond swich-blæd scharp
Stond feorth to fyht         ðe grimlic fœ.
“Me,” Godsylla sæd,         “mac ðe minsemete.”
Heoro cwyc geten heold         wiþ fæmed half-nelson
Ond flyng him lic frisbe         bac to fen.
Beowulf belly up         to meaddehæle bar,
Sæd, “Ne fœ beaten         mie færsom cung-fu.”
Eorderen cocca-colha         yce-cœld, ðe reol þyng.


To page 12, maybe? No, Page 13.