The film of "Beowulf," packed with grandiose special effects and awash with deluges of digital blood, somehow misses the tone of one of the scariest scenes in world literature. We're quoting from Seamus Heaney's splendid translation of the Old English epic published in 1999.

In off the moors, down through the mist bands

God-cursed Grendel came greedily loping.

The bane of the race of men roamed forth,

hunting for a prey in the high hall.

Under the cloud-murk he moved towards it,

until it shone above him, a sheer keep

of fortified gold.

The monster, more monstrous because of his humanoid form -- and "greedily loping" is perfect -- reaches the great hall of Hrothgar, king of the Danes.

Then his rage boiled over, he ripped open

the mouth of the building, maddening for blood,

pacing the length of the patterned floor

with his loathsome tread, while a baleful light,

flame more than light, flared from his eyes.

It's the flame in Grendel's eyes that transfixes us, a malevolent blaze that, as the poet implies, seems to project awful sentience beyond mere light.

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