{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11633/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11633","id":"gutenberg_11633","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11633","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Opera","Operas -- Stories, plots, etc.","Perceval (Legendary character) -- Drama"],"text":"PARSIFAL: A DRAMA BY WAGNER\n\nRETOLD BY OLIVER HUCKEL\n\n\n\nBOOKS BY DR. HUCKEL\n\n\nMENTAL MEDICINE\nSome practical suggestions from a spiritual\nstandpoint\n(Cloth, $1.00 net)\n\nTHE MELODY OF GOD'S LOVE\nAn interpretation of the Twenty-Third Psalm\n(Cloth, 75 cts. net)\n\nWAGNER'S MUSIC DRAMAS\nRetold in English Verse\n\nPARSIFAL\nTANNH\u00c4USER\nLOHENGRIN\nRHEINGOLD\nWALK\u00dcRE\n\n(Each, cloth, 75 cents net)\n\nTHOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nParsifal\n\nA MYSTICAL DRAMA BY RICHARD WAGNER RETOLD IN THE SPIRIT OF THE BAYREUTH\nINTERPRETATION BY\n\nOliver Huckel\n\n\nMDCCCCX\n\n\n1903\n\nT.Y. Crowell & Co.\n\nComposition and plates by D.B. Updike\n\n\n\nTo my Wife\n\nIN LOVING MEMORY OF BAYREUTH DAYS\n\nO.H.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\nPART I\nThe Coming of Parsifal\n\nPART II\nThe Tempting of Parsifal\n\nPART III\nThe Crowning of Parsifal\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nParsifal in Quest of the Holy Grail\n\nMonsalvat, the Castle of the Grail\n\nThe Communion of the Holy Grail\n\nParsifal healing King Amfortas\n\nParsifal revealing the Holy Grail\n\n\nILLUSTRATED BY FRANZ STASSEN\n\n\n\nFOREWORD\n\n\nThe Parsifal of Richard Wagner was not only the last and loftiest work\nof his genius, but it is also one of the few great dramas of modern\ntimes,--a drama which unfolds striking and impressive spiritual\nteachings. Indeed, Parsifal may be called Richard Wagner's great\nconfession of faith. He takes the legend of the Holy Grail, and uses it\nto portray wonderfully and thrillingly the Christian truths of the\nbeauty, the glory, and the inspiring power of the Lord's Supper, and the\ninfinite meaning of the redeeming love of the Cross. He reveals in this\ndrama by poetry and music, and with a marvellous breadth and depth of\nspiritual conception, this theme (in his own words): \"The founder of the\nChristian religion was not wise: He was divine. To believe in Him is to\nimitate Him and to seek union with Him.... In consequence of His atoning\ndeath, everything which lives and breathes may know itself redeemed....\nOnly love rooted in sympathy and expressed in action to the point of a\ncomplete destruction of self-will, is Christian love.\" (Wagner's\nLetters, 1880, pages 270, 365, 339.)\n\nThe criticism has sometimes been made that the basic religious idea of\nParsifal is Buddhistic rather than Christian; that it is taken directly\nfrom the philosophy of Schopenhauer, who was perhaps as nearly a\nBuddhist as was possible for an Occidental mind to be; that the\ndominating idea in Parsifal is compassion as the essence of sanctity,\nand that Wagner has merely clothed this fundamental Buddhistic idea with\nthe externals of Christian form and symbolism. This criticism is\ningenious. It may also suggest that all great religions in their essence\nhave much which is akin. But no one who reads carefully Wagner's own\nletters during the time that he was brooding over his Parsifal can doubt\nthat he was trying in this drama to express in broadest and deepest way\nthe essentials of Christian truth. Christianity has no need to go to\nBuddhism to find such a fundamental conception as that of an infinite\ncompassion as a revelation of God.\n\nThe legend of the Grail, as Wagner uses it, has in it the usual\naccompaniments of mediaeval tradition,--something of paganism and magic.\nBut these pagan elements are only contrasts to the purity and splendor\nof the simple Christian truth portrayed. The drama suggests the early\nmiracle and mystery plays of the Christian Church; but more nearly,\nperhaps, it reminds one of those great religious dramas, scenic and\nmusical, which were given at night at Eleusis, near Athens, in the\ntemple of the Mysteries, before the initiated ones among the Greeks in\nthe days of Pericles and Plato. Here at Bayreuth the mystic drama is\ngiven before its thousands of devout pilgrims and music-lovers who\ngather to the little town as to a sacred spot from all parts of the\nworld,--from Russia, Italy, France, England, and America,--and who enter\ninto the spirit of this noble drama and feast of music as if it were a\nreligious festival in a temple of divine mysteries.\n\nThe sources of Wagner's story deserve a few words. The legend of the\nHoly Grail took many forms during the Middle Ages. It was told in\nslightly varying way in the twelfth century by the French writers Robert\nde Borron and Chrestien de Troyes, and in the early thirteenth century\nby Wolfram von Eschenbach in the strong German speech of Thuringia. The\nsubstance of these legends was that the precious cup, used for the wine\nat the Last Supper, and also used to receive the Saviour's blood at the\nCross, was forever after cherished as the Holy Grail. It was carried\nfrom the Holy Land by Joseph of Arimathea and taken first to Gaul and\nlater to Spain to a special sanctuary among the mountains, which was\nnamed Monsalvat. Here it was to be cherished and guarded by a holy band\nof Knights of the Grail. The same legend appears in the chronicles of\nSir Thomas Malory, but instead of Gaul, early Britain is the place to\nwhich the Grail is brought. Tennyson's \"The Holy Grail\" in his Idylls of\nthe King largely follows Sir Thomas Malory's chronicles. The American\nartist Edwin A. Abbey in his masterly paintings of the Grail legend as\nportrayed on the walls of the Boston Public Library, also follows\nMalory. Wagner, however, uses the version of Wolfram von Eschenbach,\nmodifying it and spiritualizing it to suit his purposes. The German\nartist Franz Stassen, from whom our illustrations are taken, has entered\nwith perfect appreciation into Wagner's version of the noble legend.\nThe following rendering of the Parsifal is not a close translation of\nthe text, but rather a transfusion of the spirit. It is possibly as\nnearly a translation as Fitzgerald's rendition of Omar Khayyam, or\nMacpherson's version of the poems of Ossian. It is what may be called a\nfree rendering, aiming to give the spirit rather than the language of\nthe original.\n\nThe mere translations of the words of Parsifal, as given in the English\ntexts of H. and F. Corder and M.H. Glyn, do not adequately represent the\nfull value of the drama. Those versions were under the necessity of a\nstrictly literal translation, which was further hampered in order to\nmake the English words fit the music, and the result was far from\nsatisfactory. The literal translation also unfortunately over-emphasizes\ncertain parts and phrases in the drama which are somewhat harsh, but\nwhich at Bayreuth become much modified and refined, and are, therefore,\nso represented in this version.\n\nThe present telling of the story will be found to use all that Wagner\nhas given in the words, but with the addition here and thereof\ninterpretative phrases, suggested by the drama itself at Bayreuth. Its\npurpose is to give an interpretation, a _cumulative impression_, the\nspirit of the words, music, and mystic meaning, blended together into\none story and picture. It is made after a very careful study of the\nGerman text of Wagner for essential meanings, and after an appreciative\nhearing of the great drama itself, on two occasions, at Bayreuth. We\npresent it in the form in which such sacred legends seem to find their\nmost natural English setting,--in the form made classic in Tennyson's\nIdylls of the King.\n\nIt may also be interesting to note that the present version was planned\nten years ago on a first visit to Bayreuth. Critical work on the German\ntext and in the literature of the Parsifal legends was done later during\ntwo years at the universities of Berlin and Oxford. But the actual work\nof this translation and interpretation was done in the summer of 1902 at\nBayreuth, and in part at Nuremberg and Munich. It may also be stated\nthat this version is issued with the kind permission of Messrs. Schott\nand Company of London, the owners of the copyright of Wagner's words and\nmusic.\n\nThe music of Parsifal has been so often described and analyzed in\ncritical papers that it is not necessary here to speak of it in detail.\nThis word, however, may be in place. The marvellous music at Bayreuth\nhelped in every way in the interpretation of the drama. Every part and\nphase of the thought and movement were brought forth in the various\nmusical motives, adding emphasis and beauty and intensity of feeling.\nNow the music would whisper of the wondrous grace of the holy sacrament,\nor of the sweet beauty of God's world, clothed in the radiance of Good\nFriday; now it would reveal the sorrows of the gentle Herzeleide, or the\nawful anguish of Amfortas, or the deep rumblings of Klingsor's black\nart, or the fascinating music of the flower-maidens. Often came the pure\ntones that told of the guileless One, or the strong chords of mighty\nfaith, or the ebb and swell of mystic bells, or the glory of the sacred\nSpear. Now came the regal blasts for Parsifal, and often and through it\nall, the splendid music of the Grail itself. The music was like a\nfragrant atmosphere to the drama, softening and refining what was harsh,\ngiving a needed stress here and there, and investing the whole story\nwith a subtle and uplifting charm.\n\nThe drama of Parsifal teaches its own great lessons of life. Yet one or\ntwo suggestions of interpretation may not be amiss, for it is\nconfessedly one of the most mystical of modern dramas. It may perchance\nbe considered as representing the strife between paganism and\nChristianity in the early centuries of the Church,--the powers of magic\nand the hot passions of the human heart contending against the advancing\npower of Christian truth and the victorious might of Purity as portrayed\nin the guileless hero. Or it may be considered as representing in a\nmystic legend the spiritual history of Christ coming in later presence\namong the sons of men and imaged in the mystic Parsifal. Wagner mentions\nthat this Scripture was often in his mind when writing Parsifal--\"Hath\nnot God made foolish the wisdom of this world? The foolishness of God is\nwiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men.\" Or this,\nfurther, it may represent, in striking and inspiring way,--that the pure\nin heart shall win the victories in life; that the guileless are the\nvaliant sons of God; that the heart that resists evil passion and is\ntouched by pity for the world's woe is the heart that reincarnates the\npassionate purity of the Christ and can reveal again the healing power,\nthe Holy Grail of God.\n\nThose who desire to study further the mystical and spiritual meanings\nwill find much helpful suggestion in such books as The Argument and\nMystery of Parsifal, by Charles T. Gatty, F.S.A. (London); A Study of\nParsifal, by Alfred Gurney, M.A. (London); Parsifal,--the Finding of\nChrist through Art, by A.R. Parsons (New York); or My Musical Memories,\nby Rev. H.R. Haweis (chapter on \"Parsifal\").\n\nIt may be some time before the real Parsifal as given at Bayreuth is\nfully appreciated by the English-speaking public, although shortly the\nspecial conditions which have hitherto reserved its production to\nBayreuth alone will be released, and the great drama will be heard in\nother musical centres. This version is intended to be a vivid reminder\nof the drama to those who have seen it at Bayreuth, and also to give to\nthose who have not seen it a fuller glimpse of the majestic story than\nhas hitherto been possible to find in English. The genius of Wagner as a\nmusician has so far overshadowed all else, that his genius as a poet and\nas an exquisite reteller of the old legends has not been fully\nappreciated.\n\nGalahad, as Tennyson portrays him, will always hold the first place with\nEnglish readers as the ideal knight of the Holy Grail. The matchless\ndiction of Tennyson has given the less perfect form of the legend a\nsupreme charm and beauty. But Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parsifal, as\nspiritualized and humanized in Wagner's lyric drama, will be seen to be\nin fuller accord with the whole cycle and development of the Grail\nlegends, and at the same time gives the nobler story. It is a consummate\nparable of the contending passions and the heavenly aspiration, the\nineffable pity and the mystic glory, of the human heart. It portrays an\nintensely human and heroic life, imaginatively identified with that of\nthe very Christ.\n\n\"However mediaeval the language and symbolism of Parsifal may be,\" says\na modern critic, \"one cannot but acknowledge the simplicity and power of\nthe story. Its spiritual significance is universal. Whatever more it may\nmean, we see clearly that the guileless knight is Purity, Kundry is the\nWickedness of the world expressed in its most enticing form, and King\nAmfortas suffering with his open wound is Humanity. One cannot read the\ndrama without a thrill, without a clutching at the heart, at its\nmarvellous meaning, its uplifting and ennobling lessons.\"\n\nO.H.\n\nBaltimore, Maryland, January 7th, 1903.\n\n\n\n\nPARSIFAL. PART I\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF PARSIFAL\n\n\nWithin a noble stretch of mountain woods,\nPrimeval forest, deep and dark and grand,\nThere rose a glorious castle towering high,--\nAnd at its foot a smiling, shimmering lake\nLay in the still lap of a verdant glade.\n'T was daybreak, and the arrows of the dawn\nWere shot in golden glory through the trees,\nAnd from the castle came a trumpet blast\nTo waken life in all the slumbering host,--\nWarriors and yeomen in the castle halls.\n\nAnd at the trumpet Gurnemanz rose up,--\nAncient and faithful servant of the Grail,--\nWho sleeping lay under a spreading oak,\nAnd called aloud to two youths sleeping yet:\n\"Hey! ho! ye foresters, loving the woods,\nLoving your sleep as well. Wake with the day!\nHear ye the trumpet! Come, let us thank God\nThat we have power to hear the call of life,\nAnd power to answer as the duty calls!\"\nAnd up they started, knelt in prayer with him,\nAnd offered unto God their morning praise.\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Up now, my gallant youths,\nPrepare the royal bath, and wait the King!...\nBehold, his litter now is coming forth,\nI see the heralds coming on before....\nHail, royal heralds! Hail and welcome both!\nHow fares my Lord Amfortas' health to-day?\nI hope his early coming to the bath\nDoth presage nothing worse. I fain had thought\nThe healing herb that Sir Gawain had found\nWith wisest skill and bravest deed might bring\nSome quick and sure relief unto the King.\"\n\nTo whom the herald-knight did make reply:\n\"Thou knowest all of this dread secret wound,--\nThe shame, the sorrow, and the depth of it,\nIts evil cause and the dark curse upon it,--\nAnd yet forsooth thou seemest still to hope?...\nThe healing herb no soothing brought, nor peace.\nAll night the sleepless King has tossed in pain,\nLonging for morning and the cooling bath.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz, downcast and saddened, said:\n\"Yea, it is useless, hoping thus to ease\nThe pain unless we use the one sure cure,--\nNaught else avails although we search the world.\nOnly one healer and one healing thing\nCan staunch the gaping wound and save the King.\"\n\nAnd eagerly the herald asked: \"What cure is this,\nAnd who the healer that can save the King?\"\n\nBut Gurnemanz quick answered: \"See the bath\nIs needing thee, for here doth come the King!\"\n\nBut as he spake, e'er yet the King appeared,\nAnother herald, looking far away,\nBeheld a woman coming, riding wild,\nAnd quick exclaimed: \"See there, a flying witch!\nHa! how the devil's mare is racing fast\nWith madly flying mane! Nearer she comes!...\n'Tis Kundry, wretched Kundry, mad old Kundry--\nPerhaps she brings us urgent news? Who knows?\nThe mare is staggering with weariness,--\nNo wonder, for its flight was through the air,--\nBut now it nears the ground, and seems to brush\nThe moss with sweeping mane. And now, look ye!\nThe wild witch flings herself from off the mare\nAnd rushes toward us!\"\n\n                        And Kundry came,\nHer dark eyes flashing wildly, piercing bright;\nHer black hair loose; her rude garb looser still,\nYet partly bound with glittering skins of snakes;\nAnd panting, staggering ran to Gurnemanz,\nAnd thrust into his hands a crystal flask\nWith the scant whisper, \"Balsam--for the King!\"\nAnd on his asking, \"Whence this healing balm?\"\nShe answered: \"Farther than thy thought can guess.\nFor if this balsam fail, then Araby\nHath nothing further for the King's relief.\nAsk me no further. I am weak and worn.\"\n\nAnd now the litter of the King drew near,\nAttended by a retinue of knights.\nHigh on the couch the King Amfortas lay,\nHis pale face lined with suffering and care;\nAnd looking toward the King, then Gurnemanz\nSpake with his own sad heart: \"He comes, my King,--\nA helpless burden to his servitors.\nAlas, alas! That these mine eyes should see\nThe sovereign of a strong and noble race,\nNow in the very flower and prime of life,\nBrought low, and made a bounden slave\nUnto a shameful and a stubborn sickness!...\nYe servitors, be careful of this couch!\nCareful! Set down the litter tenderly!\nI hear the King, our Master, groan in pain.\"\n\nThen they set down the couch, and soon the King,\nRaising himself a little, spake to them:\n\"My loving thanks, sir knights. Rest here awhile.\nHow sweet this morning and these fragrant woods\nTo one who tossed the weary night in pain.\nAnd this pure lake with all its freshening waves\nWill lighten pain and brighten my dark woe.\nWhere is my dear Gawain?\"\n\n                          And one spake up:\n\"My Lord Gawain has hasted quick away.\nFor when the healing herb that he had brought\nAfter such daring toils, did disappoint,\nThen he set forth upon another quest.\"\n\nThen said the King: \"Without our word?\nAlas that he should go on useless quests\nAnd seem to do despite unto the Grail!\nFor it is ordered by divine command\nThat I should suffer for my grievous sin,\nAnd naught can help me but one single thing.\nO woe, if in his far-off quests for me\nHe is ensnared by Klingsor's hateful arts!\nI pray you, sirs, venture no more for me,--\nIt only breaks my peace, and grieves my heart.\nNaught will avail. I only wait for Him,--\n'_By pity 'lightened._' Was not this the word?\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"So thou hast said to us.\"\n\nAnd softly yet spake on the suffering King:\n\"'_The guileless One._' Methinks I know him now!\nHis name is Death, for only Death can free me!\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz to ease the King's sad thoughts\nHeld forth the crystal flask with soothing words:\n\"Nay, nay, my King. Essay once more a cure,--\nA balsam brought for thee from Araby.\"\n\nAnd the King asked: \"Whence came this balsam flask,\nSo strange in form, and who has brought it here?\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"There lies the woman now!\nThe wild-eyed Kundry, weak and weary-worn,\nAs if the journey sapped her very life....\nUp, Kundry! Here's his majesty the King!\"\n\nBut Kundry would not rise, or could not else.\n\nThen spake the King: \"O Kundry, restless, strange,\nAm I again thy debtor for such help?\nYet I will try thy balsam for my wound,\nAnd for thy service take my grateful thanks.\"\n\nBut Kundry muttered: \"Give no thanks to me.\nWhat will it help,--or this, or e'en the bath?\nAnd yet, away, I say! On to the bath!\"\nThen the King left her, lying on the ground,\nAnd off he moved upon the couch of pain,\nLonging to bathe him in the shining lake,\nHoping against all hope to ease his soul,\nAnd quiet in his body the fierce pains.\n\nAnd one spake up: \"Why lies that woman there,--\nA foul and snarling thing on holy ground?\nMethinks her healing balm is witching drug\nTo work a further poison in the King....\nShe hates us! See her now! How hellishly\nShe looks at us with hot and spiteful eyes!\nShe is a heathen witch and sorceress!\"\n\nBut Gurnemanz, who knew her well, replied:\n\"What harm has ever come to you from her?\nAnd oft she serves us in the kindliest ways.\nFor when we want a messenger to send\nTo distant lands where warrior-knights in fight\nAre serving God, she quick takes up the task;\nBefore you scarcely know is gone and back.\nA marvel is her wondrous speed of flight.\nNor does she ask your help at any time,\nNor tire you with her presence, nor her words.\nBut in the hour of danger, she is near,--\nInspiring by her brave and fiery zeal,\nNor asking of you all one word of thanks.\nMethinks a curse may still be on her life,--\nShe is so wild and strange, so sad her very eyes.\nBut now, whate'er the past, she is with us,\nAnd serves us to atone for earlier guilt.\nPerchance her work may shrive her of her sins.\nSurely she does full well to serve us well,\nAnd in the serving-help herself and us.\"\n\nThen spake again a knight: \"Perchance her guilt\nIt was, that brought calamity on all our land.\"\n\nBut Gurnemanz: \"My thought of her goes far\nIn memory to days and years long past.\nAnd it was always when she was away\nAnd we alone, that sudden mishap fell.\nThis I have seen through many, many years.\nThe ag\u00e8d King, our Titurel beloved,\nHe knew her well for many years beyond.\n'Twas he who found her sleeping in these woods,\nAll stiff and rigid, pale and seeming dead,\nWhen he was building yonder castle-towers.\nAnd so did I myself, in recent days,\nFind her asleep and rigid in the woods,--\n'Twas when calamity on us had come\nSo evil and so shameful from our foe,--\nThat dread magician of the mountain heights.\nSay, Kundry, wake and answer me this word?\nWhere hadst thou been in those dark evil days,--\nAt home, afar, awake or fast asleep,--\nWhen our good King did lose the holy Spear?\nWhy were you not at hand to give us help?\"\n\nAnd Kundry muttered: \"Never do I help!\"\nThen said a knight: \"O brother Gurnemanz,\nIf she is now so true in serving us,\nAnd if she does such strange and wondrous deeds,\nThen send her for the missing holy Spear\nFor which the King and all the land are fain.\"\n\nBut Gurnemanz with gloomy looks replied:\n\"That were a quest beyond her, beyond all--\nThat lies within the guarded will of God.\nO how my heart leaps up in memory\nOf that blest symbol of the Saviour's power!\nO wounding, healing, wonder-working Spear,\nCompanion of the Grail in grace divine,\nA radiant shaft for consecrated hands.\nWhat saw I? Hands unholy snatched thee up,\nAnd sought to wield thee in unholy ways.\nI see it all again,--that dark and fatal day\nWhen our good King Amfortas, all too bold,\nForgetful of the evil in the world,\nWent straying far out from the castle walls,\nAnd loitered through the green and shady woods;\nAnd there he met a woman passing fair,\nWith great eyes that bewitched him with their light,\nAnd as he stayed and lost his heart to her,\nHe lost the Spear. For on a sudden came\nAthwart them that foul-hearted, fallen knight,\nThe evil-minded Klingsor, and he snatched\nThe holy Spear and mocking rushed away.\nThen broke an awful cry from the King's lips;\nI heard and hurrying fought the evil knight,\nAs did the King, parrying blow on blow,\nAnd at the last the King fell wounded sore\nBy that same Spear that once was holy health.\nThis is the fatal wound that burns his side,--\nThis wound it is that ne'er will close again.\"\n\nAnd when the knights asked further of the deed\nAnd what of Klingsor, the foul-hearted knight,\nThen Gurnemanz sat down and told this tale,--\nThe four young knights ensconced around his feet,--\n\"Our holy Titurel knew Klingsor well.\nFor in the ancient days when savage foes\nDistressed the kingdom with their heathen craft,\nOne mystic midnight came a messenger\nOf God to Titurel, and gave to him\nThe Holy Grail, the vessel lustrous pure,\nWherein the crimson wine blushed rosy-red\nAt that Last Supper of the feast of love;\nWherein the later wine of His own blood\nWas caught and cherished from the cruel Cross.\nThis gave the angel unto holy Titurel\nAnd with it gave the radiant sacred Spear\nThat pierced the side and broke the suffering heart\nOf Him, our heavenly Saviour on the Cross,\nSo that the water and the blood flowed forth\nIn mingled tide,--the sacrifice of love.\nAnd for these precious witnesses of God\nThat told to men of saving-health and power,\nThe holy Titurel did build an holy house,--\nA sanctuary-stronghold on the heights\nOf Monsalvat, forever given to God.\nAnd ye, blest servants of the Holy Grail,\nYe know the sacred ways by which ye came\nInto this holy service. Ye gave all\nAnd purified your lives and hearts to God.\nAnd with the consecration came the power,\nBy vision of the Grail, to do high deeds\nAnd live the life of warriors of God.\nThis Klingsor came to holy Titurel\nAnd asked to come into the company.\nLong had he lived in yonder heathen vale\nAlone, and shunned by all his kind.\nI never knew what sin had stained his heart,\nOr why he sought the castle of the Grail;\nBut holy Titurel discerned his heart\nAnd saw the festering evil of his life,\nAnd knew unholy purpose filled his soul\nAnd steadfastly refused him at the gates.\nWhereat in wrath the evil Klingsor swore\nThat if he could not serve the Holy Grail,\nThe Holy Grail should serve him by its power;\nAnd he would seize it in his own right hand,\nAnd some day be the master of them all.\nHenceforth he waged a subtle, ceaseless war\nAgainst Monsalvat and the holy knights.\nHe gave himself to dark and evil life\nAnd learned the witchery of magic arts\nTo work the ruin of the Holy Grail.\nFair gardens he created by his art,\nThrough all the deserts, and therein he placed\nMaidens of winsome witchery and power,\nWho bloomed like flowers in beauty and in grace.\nAnd in these subtle snares full many a knight\nWas caught by magic wiles and lured and lost,\nAnd no one knew where they had gone or why.\nThen holy Titurel, grown old in years,\nGave up the kingdom to his only son,\nThe brave Amfortas. And by ceaseless quest\nAmfortas learned the truth and waged fierce war\nAgainst this Klingsor, evil to the heart,\nUntil at last in one unguarded moment,\nAs I have told you, e'en our noble King,\nThe good Amfortas, yielded to a sin,--\nAnd lost the Spear, and had his fatal wound.\nNow with the Spear within his evil grasp\nKlingsor exults, and mockingly does tell\nHow his black fingers soon will hold the Grail.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen the young knights who listened to the tale\nUpstarted with the cry: \"God give us grace\nTo wrest that sacred Spear from impious hands!\"\n\nBut Gurnemanz thus checked them: \"Listen yet!\nLong did our King Amfortas kneel before\nThe sanctuary, praying in his pain\nAnd seeking for a word of hope from God.\nAt length a radiance glowed around the Grail,\nAnd from its glory shone a Sacred Face\nThat spake this oracle of mystic words:\n   _\"By pity 'lightened,\n       My guileless One,--\n     Wait for him,\n       Till My will is done!\"_\n\nAnd as the knights repeated these weird words,--\nThere came wild cries and shouting from the lake:\n\"Shame! shame! alas, the shame to shoot the swan!\"\nAnd as they looked, a wild swan came in sight;\nIt floated feebly o'er the flurried lake\nAnd strove to fly, but wounded fluttered down\nAnd sank upon the lake-shore, and was dead.\nAnd Gurnemanz cried out: \"Who shot the swan?\nThe King had hailed it as a happy sign,\nWhene'er a swan came near him in its flight\nFor since the earliest ages has this bird\nMeant hope and health and holiness to men.--\nWho dared to do this dastard deed of shame?\"\n\nThen came a knight leading a guileless boy\nAnd said: \"This is the one who shot the swan,--\nAnd here more arrows like the cruel shaft\nThat hides itself within the bleeding breast.\"\n\nTo whom spake Gurnemanz: \"What mean'st thou, boy,\nBy such a cruel, shameless deed as this?\"\n\nBut the boy answered: \"Yea, it was my shot.\nI shot the swan in flight when high in air.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Shame to confess such deed!\nSuch sacrilege within these holy woods,\nWhere seems to dwell the perfect peace of God.\nWere not the woodland creatures kind to thee,--\nDid not the sweet birds sing their songs to thee,\nWhen first thou camest to these leafy haunts?\nAnd this poor swan, so mild and beautiful,---\nHow could thy heart determine on such deed?\nIt hovered o'er the lake in circling grace,\nSeeking the dear companion of its love,--\nFor e'en the heart of bird doth know sweet love,--\nAnd seeming to make sacred all the lake.\nDidst thou not marvel at its queenly flight,\nAnd feel a reverence in thine inmost soul?\nWhat tempted thee to shoot the fatal shaft,\nAnd slay the bird and grieve the loving King?...\nSee where the deadly arrow smote its breast!\nBehold the snowy plumage splashed with blood!\nThe spreading pinions drooping helpless now,\nAnd in its eye the agony of death!\nSlain by thy cruel heart that knows no shame!\nDost thou not see how wicked is thy deed?\"\n\nThen was the young boy stricken with remorse,\nAnd drew his hand across his moistened eyes,\nAs if new pity dawned within his soul;\nThen quickly snatching up his strong arched bow,\nHe broke it, and his arrows flung away.\nAnd clutching at his breast as if in pain\nHe stood a time in conscious agony,--\nDeep feeling surging through his stricken heart;\nAnd then he turned again to Gurnemanz\nWith the brave words: \"I did not understand\nWhat evil I was doing with my bow.\"\n\n\"Whence art thou?\" Gurnemanz did ask of him;\nAnd dazed he answered: \"That I do not know.\"\n\"But who thy father?\"--\"That I do not know.\"\n\"Who sent thee here?\"--\"I do not know e'en that.\"\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Yet tell me but thy name.\"\n\nAnd in a strange and dazed way he replied:\n\"Once I had many. Now, I do not know.\"\nAnd Gurnemanz spake sharply, half in wrath,\n\"Thou knowest nothing. Such a guileless soul,--\nSo wisely foolish, and so foolish wise,--\nA very child in heart, yet strangely strong,\nNe'er have I found, except in Kundry here....\nCome, brother-knights, lift up the stricken swan\nAnd bear it on these branches to the lake;\nNor speak of this sad sorrow to the King\nTo further grieve his deep-afflicted heart\nStricken the King and wounded to his death,\nThis omen he may dwell on to his hurt.\"\n\nAnd back unto the King's bath went the knights,\nWhile Gurnemanz spake further to the lad:\n\"Speak out thy heart to me. I am thy friend.\nSurely thou knowest much that thou canst say.\"\n\nThen spake the boy and told him of his life:\n\"I have a mother,--Heartsrue is she called.\nAnd on the barren moorland is our home.\nMy bow and arrows have I made myself\nTo scare the eagles in the forest wilds.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Yea, thou hast told me true,\nFor thou thyself art of the eagle brood.\nI see a something kingly in thy look.\nYet better had thy mother taught thy hands\nTo spear and sword than this unmanly bow.\"\n\nWhereat the wild witch Kundry raised herself\nFrom where she lay along the bosky woods,\nAnd hoarsely broke in: \"Yea, his noble sire\nWas Gamuret, in battle slain and lost\nA month before his child had seen the light.\nAnd so to save her son from such a death,\nThe lonely mother reared him in the woods,\nAnd taught him nothing of the spear and sword,\nBut kept him ever as a guileless child.\"\n\nThen spake the lad: \"And once I saw a host\nOf men pass by the borders of the wood,\nA-glitter in the sun, and riding fast\nOn splendid creatures, prancing as they went.\nOh, I would fain have been like these fair men.\nBut, laughing gaily, on they galloped fast\nAnd I ran after them to be like them,\nAnd join the glittering host and see the world.\nBut though I ran, they faded from my sight\nYet have I followed, over hill and dale.\nDay after day I follow on their track,\nAnd here I am as now you see me here.\nMy bow has done me service on the way\nAgainst wild beasts and savage-seeming men.\"\n\nAnd Kundry added: \"Yea, the fiery boy\nHas sent a terror into many hearts--\nThe wicked always fear the nobly good.\"\nThen asked the boy in sweetest innocence:\n\"And who are wicked, tell me, and who good?\"\n\nAnd Kundry spake: \"Thy mother, she was good.\nShe grieved for thee, but now she grieves no more.\nFor as I lately rode along that way\nComing with haste from far Arabia,\nI saw her dying, and she spake to me,\nAnd sent her blessing to her darling boy.\"\n\nAt which the boy with sudden childish rage:\n\"My mother dead! and sent a grace by thee,--\nThou liest, woman! Take thy false words back!\"\nAnd still impetuous and unreasoning,\nFighting the facts of life in rebel mood\n(A child of sudden temper, guileless heart),\nHe seized her, struggling with a furious might\nTo make her unsay what her lips had told.\nPerhaps he might have harmed her in his wrath,\nHad not the ag\u00e8d Gurnemanz come near,\nAnd drawn him back, with the sharp-spoken words:\n\"Impetuous child, restrain thy violence!\nThis woman harms thee not. She speaks the truth!\nKundry has seen it, for she never lies.\"\n\nAnd at the word, the lad grew calm again,\nAnd silent stood with still and stony stare,\nUntil his heart broke out in woe afresh\n(A guileless child, not knowing strong control),\nAnd he was seized with trembling, and he swooned.\n\nThen Kundry, bearing naught of hate or spite,\nRan to a pebbly brook that flowed near by,\nAnd brought cold water in an ancient horn,\nSprinkled the lad, and gave him some to drink.\n\nAnd Gurnemanz, with kindly look at her,\nSpake out: \"Thy deed is worthy of the Grail,--\nA cup of water fails not of reward;\nAnd sin is conquered by the deeds of good.\"\n\nBut Kundry muttered still: \"I do no good!\"\nThen in still lower tone to her own self:\n\"I do no good, I only long for rest.\nO weary me! Would I might never wake!\nYet dare I sleep? It means calamity\nTo those whom I in vain have tried to serve.\nResist I cannot! Yea, the time has come!\nI feel the awful spell upon mine eyes,--\nSlumber I must! Slave of that evil one\nWho wields his black art from the mountain height.\nSleep, sleep, to sleep! I must! I must! I must!\"\nWith this she crept away and laid her down\nWithin a thicket of the forest woods.\n\nMeanwhile the litter of the King came back\nWith all its retinue of gallant knights.\nAnd Gurnemanz held up the tottering lad,\nStill sorrowing at the sad news come to him,\nAnd slowly led him toward the castle gate,\nWhile softly speaking to him graciously:\n\"See how our King Amfortas from the bath\nIs carried by his loving servitors.\nThe sun is rising high. The time has come\nWhen we shall celebrate our holy Feast.\nThere will I lead thee. If thy heart be pure,\nThe Grail will be to thee as food and drink.\"\nThen asked the lad: \"What is this thing, the Grail?\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"I may not tell thee that,\nBut if to serve it thou art surely called,\nThen shalt thou know its meaning to the full.\nSomehow I feel and hope that thou shalt know,\nElse what has led thy footsteps to this height.\nYet no one sees the glory of the Grail\nSave those to whom it shall reveal itself.\"\n\nThen on they moved, and softly spake the lad:\n\"I scarcely move, and yet I seem to run,--\nWhat is the meaning of this strange new thing?\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz made answer: \"Here, my child,\nThere is no space and time, but all is one,--\nFor here we breathe the atmosphere of God,--\nA boundless Here and an eternal Now.\"\n\nThen on they went, and soon were lost to view\nWithin the gateway of a rocky cliff;\nSometimes came glimpses of them as they climbed\nThe sloping passages within the cliff--\nA cloistered corridor of carven columns--\nAnd paused a moment at some rocky window\nTo see the grandeur of the mountain heights.\nThe soft notes of a trumpet called them up,\nAnd silver bells were chiming melodies.\n\nAt length they reached the noble pillared hall\nWithin the castle of the Holy Grail,\nFor here the sacred feast was always kept,--\nAnd here were gathering the bless\u00e8d knights.\nClothed were they all in tunics of gray-blue,--\nThe color of the softened light of heaven,--\nWith mantles of pale scarlet, flowing free,--\nThe very tincture of the blood they served,--\nAnd on the mantles snow-white soaring doves,\nThe symbol of the Holy Spirit's gift.\nAnd with a solemn joy they took their place\nAlong the tables of communing love;\nThe while from the great vaulted dome above\nCame ever-growing sound of chiming bells.\n\nThen spellbound stood the lad and gazed around,\nAmazed at all the glory of the hall,\nAnd all the solemn splendor of the scene,\nTill Gurnemanz stooped down and whispered low:\n\"Now give good heed, and if thy heart be pure,\nAnd thou art called, then surely thou shalt know.\"\n\nThen sang the knights this chorus soft and slow;\n \"O holy feast of blessing,\n  Our portion day by day;\n  In thee God's grace possessing,\n  That passeth not away.\n  Who doth the right and true,\n  Here findeth strength anew;\n  This cup his hand may lift,\n  And claim God's holiest gift.\"\n\nAnd from the mid-height of the lofty dome\nThe voices of the younger knights replied:\n   \"As anguished and holy\n    The dear Saviour lowly,\n  For us sinners His own life did offer;\n    So with hearts pure and free,\n    Forever do we\n  Our lives unto Him gladly proffer.\n    He died--our sins atoned for thus,--\n    He died---yet liveth still in us!\"\n\nAnd from the topmost of the glorious dome\nA chorus of fresh boyish voices came:\n     \"The faith doth live!\n      The Lord doth give\n    The Dove, His sacred token!\n      Drink at this board\n      The wine outpoured,\n    And eat the bread here broken!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd as they sang their sweet antiphonies,\nA long procession through the splendid hall\nWended slow way, and bearing in the King,\nThe suffering Amfortas in his pain,\nStill lying listless on his royal couch.\nBefore him walked a company of boys\nClothed in pale blue, and bearing high aloft\nA mystic shrine in cloth of deepest crimson,\nTo signify the royal blood beneath.\nAnd others followed bearing silver flagons\nWith wine, and baskets of the finest bread.\nSlowly the King was carried to a couch\nWithin the midst, high-raised and canopied,\nAnd just before him, of a pure white stone,\nTraced with faint figures of the passion-flower,\nStood the communion table where was placed\nThe sacred shrine, still covered, of the Grail.\n\nAnd when the hymns were ended, and the knights\nHad taken their set places at the board,\nThen there was silence. And from far away,\nAs if from some deep cavern of a tomb,\nBehind the couch where King Amfortas lay\nThe muffled voice of ag\u00e8d Titurel\nSpake with long silences between the words:\n\"My son Amfortas, art thou at thy post?...\nWilt thou unveil the Grail and bid me live?...\nOr must I die, denied the saving vision?\"\n\nAnd King Amfortas cried in desperate pain:\n\"O woe is me to bear the burning wound\nThat shames me in the office of the Grail!\nO father, do thou take the sacred trust\nAnd let thy holy hands reveal the Grail\nOnce more, and live! And let me quickly die!\"\n\nBut answered him the ag\u00e8d Titurel:\n\"Nay, nay, too feeble I to serve again.\nI live entombed with but a breath of life,\nSaved by the remnant of the grace of God.\nMy strength all gone, but my poor yearning heart\nStill eager for the vision of the Grail;\nFor this alone can bring me comfort now.\nThine is the office. O unveil the Grail!\nFor serving faithfully thou mayst atone\nFor all the grievous sin of thy sad life.\"\n\nBut quickly King Amfortas stopped the knights\nWho went to do his bidding at the shrine:\n\"Nay, leave the Holy Cup still unrevealed!\nGod grant that none of you may ever know\nThe torment that this vision brings to me\nWhich brings to you all rapture and all joy.\nHere do I stand in office, yet accurst,--\nMy heart of lust to guard God's holiest gift,\nAnd plead in prayer from lips all stained with sin,--\nPleading for you who purer are than I!\nO direst judgment from the God of grace!\nMy inmost soul doth long for His forgiveness,\nI yearn for sign of His compassion,\nYet cannot bear His mercy in the Grail....\nBut now the hour is nigh! I seem to see\nA ray of glory fall upon the Cup!\nThe veil is raised! The sacred stream that flows\nWithin the crystal, gloriously shines\nWith radiance heaven-born. But as it glows,\nI feel the well-spring of the blood divine\nPouring in floods into my anguished heart.\nAnd then the full tide of my sinful blood\nEbbs out in tumult wild through this deep wound\nHere in my side. It leaps in bounds of pain,\nLike torments of the lowest depths of hell,--\nThrough this deep wound. Like His own wound it is,\nThrust through with bitter stroke of that same Spear,\nAnd in the self-same place from which His tears\nOf burning blood wept over man's disgrace\nIn holiest pity and divinest love;\nAnd now from me, the highest office holding\nAnd charged with holiest trust of God's good grace,--\nFrom me the hot, impassioned blood is surging,\nRenewed again by that first awful sin.\nAlas, no deep repentance e'er can save\nA sinner dyed in sins so scarlet red.\nNaught can avail, but only one sure thing,\nThe healing touch of that thrice-sacred Spear,\nHeld in the pure hand of the guileless One.\nHave mercy, O have mercy, pitying God!\nTake back my birthright in the sacred trust!\nTake back my life and all I hold most dear!\nBut give me healing, and Thy tender love,--\nAnd let me die, and come to Thee pure-hearted!\"\n\nAnd as he ended in an anguished sob,\nThe boys' sweet voices chanted from the dome:\n   _\"By pity 'lightened,\n       My guileless One,--\n     Wait for him,\n       Till My will is done!\"_\n\nThen softly all the knights cried: \"'Tis God's will\nThat thou shouldst wait in suffering, yet hope....\nFulfil thy duty: and reveal the Grail!\"\n\nWhile deep the voice of ag\u00e8d Titurel:\n\"Unveil the Grail! Sir knights, unveil the Grail!\"\n\nThen they took off the cloth all purple-red,\nAnd slowly brought to light the golden shrine,\nAnd from it took the antique crystal Cup,--\nForever cherished as the Holy Grail,--\nAnd set it on the table near the King,\nWho writhed in silent anguish on his couch.\n\nThen ag\u00e8d Titurel: \"The blessing now!\"\n\nAnd King Amfortas bowed in silent prayer\nBefore the Cup, while an increasing gloom\nSpread through the room, and from the lofty dome\nThe voices of the boys sang soft and low:\n\n \"Take ye, and drink My blood,\n    In vow no death can sever!\n  Take ye, My body eat,\n    In love to live forever!\n  Remember ye My life and love,\n  And raise your hearts to Me above!\"\n\nAnd as the verse was ended, came a ray\nOf dazzling light upon the crystal Cup,\nAnd filled it with a radiant purple glory.\nAnd with it came a streaming splendor down\nThat flashed a lustrous beauty all around.\nAnd King Amfortas, with a brightening face,\nUpraised the Holy Grail, and gently waved\nIts glory to all sides. And all did kneel,\nAnd raised their eyes in joyous reverence\nToward that bright glory in the darkened room.\n\nAnd once again the ag\u00e8d Titurel's voice:\n\"O rapturous vision of the grace of God!\"\n\nThen King Amfortas placed the Cup again\nUpon the altar-table of the shrine,\nAnd it was covered with the crimson cloth.\nAnd from the silver flagons of the wine\nAnd from the baskets of the sacred bread,\nNew consecrated by the Grail's own light,\nEach knight received his portion gratefully,\nAnd all sat down to eat the feast divine.\nThen Gurnemanz did beckon to the lad\nTo come and eat. But he was all amazed,\nAnd silent stood, nor heeded the kind word.\n\nWhile from the height, boys' voices came again:\n\n \"Wine and bread of consecration,\n  Once the Lord for our salvation\n  Changed for love and pity's sake\n  To the blood which He did shed,\n  To the body which He brake.\"\n\nAnd answering them, the younger knights replied\nIn sweet antiphony amid the feast:\n \"Blood and body, gift of blessing,\n  Now He gives for your refreshing,\n  Changes by His spirit true\n  To the wine for you outpoured,\n  To the bread that strengthens you.\"\n\nAnd still in answer did the knights respond,\nOne group in joyous answer to the other:\n\n   \"Take ye the bread,\n    Change it again,\n  Your powers of life inspiring;\n    Do as He said,\n    Quit you like men,\n  To work out the Lord's desiring.\n\n   \"Take of the wine,\n    Change it anew\n  To life's impetuous torrent;\n    This be the sign,\n    Faithful and true,--\n  To fight as duty shall warrant!\"\n\nThen all the knights, with rapture in their hearts,\nRose joyfully and clasped each other's hands\nAnd gave each other the blest kiss of peace,\nAnd from their lips and from the dome's great height,\nAnd from the younger knights the chorus broke:\n   \"Bless\u00e8d believing!\n    Bless\u00e8d the loving!\n    Bless\u00e8d the loving!\n    Bless\u00e8d believing!\"\n\nBut King Amfortas bowed his anguished head,\nAnd held his wound all broken out afresh.\nSlowly they carried him from out the hall\nAnd slowly marched the knights with solemn joy,\nBearing the Grail within the covered shrine,\nWhile bells were chiming in the lofty dome.\nAnd then the lad--for he was Parsifal--\nTight clutched his heart in sorrowful distress\nAs King Amfortas groaned in bitter woe.\nHe stood in utter anguish overcome,\nBreathing impulsive with deep sympathy,\nBut spake no single word, nor gave one sign\nThat he had understood the solemn feast,\nOr seen the glory of the Holy Grail.\nAnd when the last knight left the festal hall\nAnd all the doors were closed, then Gurnemanz\nCame to the lad and shook him from the spell\nAnd asked: \"What sawest thou, what does it mean?\"\nAnd when he answered not, but shook his head,\nClutching his heart as if in agony,\nThe patient Gurnemanz had patience then no more,\nBut thrust him out and quick made fast the door,\nWith the scant words: \"Begone, thou guileless lad!\nGuileless thou mayst be; utter fool thou art!\"\nSo Parsifal went forth into the world,\nNaught knowing of the meaning of it all\nExcept the new-stirred pity in his heart.\nAnd as the angry Gurnemanz returned,\nAnd made his way along the pillared hall,\nHe stopped, amazed, and listened, for he heard\nFrom far above a gentle voice that sang:\n    _\"By pity 'lightened,\n      My guileless One!\"_\nAnd from the loftiest dome another voice:\n     \"Bless\u00e8d believing!\"\n\n\n\n\nPARSIFAL. PART II\n\n\n\nTHE TEMPTING OF PARSIFAL\n\n\nKlingsor the dread magician plied his arts\nAnd worked in shame his dastardly black deeds,\nWithin the inner keep of a great tower,--\nThe watch-tower of the grim and frowning castle.\nHere in a dark and dismal rocky room,\nWhere Heaven's light could scarcely find a way,\nAnd where around him lay his books and tools\nOf hateful magic, littering the floor,\nSteadfast he looked upon a metal mirror\nThat told the fates to him,--then muttered low:\n\"The time has come! Lo, how my tower entices\nThe guileless lad, who cometh like a child\nWith happy heart, and laughter on his lips.\nCome, I must work my work by her who sleeps\nIn heavy slumber underneath my spell;\nFor in the past she did my deadliest deeds.\"\n\nAnd in the gloom he kindled incense rare,\nThat filled the keep with blue unearthly smoke;\nAnd sitting at the mirror once again,\nHe called with mystic gestures to the depths\nThat yawned beneath an opening in the floor:\n\"Uprise! Come forth! Draw near me at my will!\nThy master calls thee, nameless wanderer,\nRose-bloom of Hell, and ancient devil-queen!\nA thousand times the earth has known thy face\nIn many forms of woman's wiles and sins,--\nHerodias wert thou in ancient time,\nAnd once again Gundryggia wert called\nIn old Norse days; but thou art Kundry now,\nSymbol of woman's wile and cruel craft.\nCome hither, Kundry, for thy master calls!\"\n\nThen in the blue light Kundry slow appeared.\nAsleep she seemed, and dreaming in her sleep,\nBut sudden wakened with a dreadful cry,\nA shuddering cry, half laughter, half in pain.\n\nAnd Klingsor spake again: \"Awakest thou?\nAgain my spell is potent on thy life;\nMy will again shall use thee for my deeds.\"\n\nBut Kundry cried in bitter agony,\nAnd wailed in fear and anguish at his feet;\nWhile Klingsor asked her in deep thunder tones:\n\"Where hast thou wandered since I used thee last?\nI know. Among the brethren of the Grail,\nWho thought thee but a witch and serving-wench.\nDo I not treat thee with a better grace,\nAnd use thee for the mightiest of deeds?\nSince thou didst lure for me the brave Amfortas--\nChaste guardian (they thought him) of the Grail--\nThou hast deserted my high name and service.\nWhat better hast thou found than me and mine?\"\n\nThen Kundry cried in hoarse and broken speech:\n\"O dismal night and shame and wickedness!\nWould I could sleep the deepest sleep of death!\"\n\nAnd Klingsor asked: \"What has there come to thee?\nHas some one else awaked thee from thy sleep?\"\nAnd trembling Kundry answered: \"Even so.\nAnd, oh, the longing to redeem my life!\"\n\nThen Klingsor: \"Yea, with knights so pure in heart,\nThe evil Kundry would be Heaven-pure.\"\n\nBut Kundry answered all his mockery:\n\"Yea, I did serve them well and faithfully.\"\n\nAnd Klingsor spake with a great voice of scorn:\n\"Thou wouldst amend the mischief thou hast done?...\nThey are not worth it! They are fools and weak.\nI buy them all for price of one sweet sin.\nThe strongest was the weakest in thine arms.\nAnd so I ruined him, and won the Spear,\nAnd left him with the ever-burning wound.\nBut now to-day another must be met,--\nMost dangerous because so godlike pure,\nFor he is shielded by a guileless heart.\"\n\nAnd Kundry cried: \"Him will I never tempt!\nThou canst not force me to the hateful deed.\"\nBut Klingsor answered: \"Yea, thou shalt, thou must.\nI am thy master and I have the power.\nThy charms and woes are nothing unto me.\nLaugh at me, if you will. I have the power!\nYea, I remember all the days of yore,--\nThat once I sought the holier, happier life,\nWithin the service of the Holy Grail;\nBut it was mad ambition, desperate wish,\nAnd thou didst quench it for me, devil's-queen,\nAnd drown it in thy hellish arts of love.\nBut that is past. Now thou art but my slave.\nAnd Titurel, who scorned me at the gates,\nAnd all his knights with their proud King Amfortas,\nThrough thy dark wiles I ruined utterly.\nAnd in my hand I hold their sacred Spear\nAnd soon shall have their shining Holy Grail.\nRemember now to use thy wiles again\nAs thou didst love Amfortas to his shame.\"\n\nBut Kundry cried: \"O misery and shame!\nThat e'en their King should be so weak with me,\nAnd all men weak. O hateful, hateful curse\nThat ruins them and me in sin together!\nO for the sleep of death to end all this!\"\n\nAnd Klingsor then: \"Perhaps thy wish is near,\nFor he who can defy thee, sets thee free.\nGo tempt the guileless boy, and win thy wish.\"\n\nBut Kundry answered still: \"I will not tempt him!\"\n\nThen Klingsor: \"Yea, thou must! It is my will.\nFor this I wakened thee. And fair is he.\nSee, from my window I can watch him come.\nHe scales the ramparts like a hero born.\nThis trumpet I will blow and wake the guards.\nHo! warders of the gates and walls! to arms!\nA foe is near!... List to the clash of swords!\nHow my deluded vassals swarm the walls\nTo guard my castle and the maidens here--\nBewitching creatures fashioned by my art!\nBehold! the guileless lad is not afraid!\nHe fights with bold Sir Ferris, wrests a sword,\nAnd flashes it with fury in their midst.\"\n\nAnd as he fought, Kundry laughed loud and long,\nAnd now she groaned in awful agony,\nThen with a sudden shriek was lost to sight.\n\nStill Klingsor spake: \"How ill his fiery zeal\nAgrees with the weak spirit of these knights.\nWounded in arm and limb, they yield, they fly,\nAnd carry off a multitude of scars.\nBut what care I, you puny, craven race?\nWould that the weak knights of the Holy Grail\nMight rise in wrath and slay each other thus!\nHow proudly stands the youth upon the walls!\nHow red the roses in his cheeks are laughing!\nAnd how amazed he is, like some sweet child,\nTo see this wondrous garden at his feet!\nHo! Kundry! Hast thou gone? I thought I heard\nThy laughter, or a sudden cry of pain.\nDoubtless already she is hard at work\nTo do my bidding, for she is my slave,\nAnd what I tell her, she must surely do.\nThere, there, my gallant lad, so sweet and brave,\nThou art too young to understand these things.\nBut thou shalt learn,--my arts will teach thee well,\nAnd when thy guileless heart shall be ensnared,\nThen thou art weak, and lost,--and mine the Grail!\"\n\nThen, wondrous sight! the castle disappeared,\nSave here and there a distant battlement,\nAnd through the foliage the palace walls,\nAnd windows of Arabian tracery.\nBut everywhere were flowers--wondrous flowers--\nRising in terraces of tropic growth:\nA splendid garden of luxuriant flowers\nCreated by dread Klingsor's magic art.\n\nAnd Parsifal, astounded at the scene,\nStood silently upon the castle walls,\nAs to his eye the great flowers seemed to wake,\nAnd rush in airy garments here and there.\nThey seemed like maidens and they seemed like flowers,\nSo graceful and so beautiful were they.\nAnd as they moved they spoke in rhythmic tones:\n\n\"Here was the tumult and shoutings!\nHere was the clashing of weapons!\n\n\"Horror! our lovers are wounded!\nHere in the palace is carnage!\n\n\"Who is the foe that assails us?\nAccurst shall he be by us all!\"\n\nBut Parsifal leaped gaily to their midst,\nAnd smiled upon them with unfeigned delight;\nAnd cried: \"Thus do I win my way to you,--\nThe loveliest maidens that mine eyes have seen.\"\n\nAnd pacified they ask: \"Thou comest here\nAnd wilt not harm us, but be kind to us?\"\n\nAnd Parsifal: \"Nowhere such maidens live,--\nFair flowers of the garden of delight.\nI could not treat you ill, you are so fair!\nAgain you bring sweet childhood's days to me,\nFor you are all so lovely and so bright.\"\n\nAnd then the maidens welcomed the gay youth\nAnd spake to him: \"If thou wilt be our friend,\nThen art thou welcome in our happy garden.\nWe do not play for gold, but only love,--\nThe rosebud garlands of the joy of life.\"\n\nThen other maidens came in flowers clad,\nAnd danced around him with their laughing grace,\nAnd sang in tones of winsome witchery:\n\n  \"We are thy fragrant flowers,\n   Blooming alone for thee,\n   And full of love's own bliss\n   And life's deep mystery!\n\n  \"Come, kiss our rosy lips,\n   For thou our lover art,\n   And taste the nectar sweet\n   Of nature's secret heart.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal, still with the guileless heart,\nAnd seeing all with only childlike eyes,\nUntouched of evil, nor discerning sin,\nAsked laughingly: \"And are you really flowers?\nI do not know. You are so beautiful.\"\n\nThen crowded they around him with their charms,\nAnd pleaded with him, \"Love us ere we die!\"\nCrowded each other, jealous of his smile,\nAnd struggling eagerly to win his love.\n\nBut Parsifal repulsed their too fond hearts,\nAnd shunned their circle of entwining arms\nWith gentle gesture: \"Sweetest sister-flowers,\nI like ye better in the flowery dance,\nAnd when ye give me space to see your charms.\nAway, sweet sisters, leave me here alone!\"\n\nThen did they chide him: \"Art afraid of us,\nOr art thou also cold, as well as coward?\nHere butterfly is wooed by loving flowers,\nAnd does not know enough to sip the sweet.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal discerned them then, and cried:\n\"Begone, false flowers, ye cannot snare my heart!\"\n\nBut as he turned to leave the flowery throng,\nHe heard a sweet voice from a leafy bower\nSay: \"Parsifal! A moment! Parsifal!\"\n\nAnd quick he stopped and murmured, \"Parsifal!\nWho calls me by that gentle mystic name,\nThat once my mother named me in her dreams?\"\n\nAnd the voice spake: \"O tarry, Parsifal!\nFor I have joyous things to tell to thee.\nYe flowery children, leave him here in peace;\nHe came not here to waste his time in play.\nGo to the wounded lovers waiting you.\"\n\nAnd so they left him, singing as they went:\n\n  \"Must we leave thee, must we sever,\n     Oh, the parting pain!\n   Gladly would we love thee ever\n     And with thee remain!\n   Fair one, proud one, now farewell.\n     Guileless, foolish heart, farewell!\"\n\nAnd gaily laughing at the guileless youth,\nThey rushed into the palace and were gone.\nAnd Parsifal spake slowly to himself:\n\"Was all this nothing but a passing dream?\"\n\nBut looking whence the other voice had come,\nHe saw the leafy bower had opened wide,\nAnd on a flowery couch a maiden lay,\nMore beautiful than heart could ever dream,\nClad in some light gown of Arabian stuff.\nAnd Parsifal, still standing high aloof,\nSpake courteously: \"Didst thou call to me\nAnd name me who am nameless unto all?\"\n\nAnd she replied: \"I named thee, guileless lad,--\nI named thee by thine own name, Parsifal.\nFor so thy father Gamuret named thee,\nBefore he died in that Arabian land,--\nNamed thee before thine eyes had seen the light,\nNamed thee with greeting in his dying breath.\nHere have I waited thee to tell thee all.\nWhat drew thee here but the desire to know?\"\n\nAnd Parsifal: \"I never saw, nor dreamed,\nSuch wondrous evil things as here to-day.\nAnd art thou but another wanton flower\nThat bloomest in this evil garden here?\"\n\nBut she: \"O Parsifal, thou foolish heart!\nSurely thou seest I am not as these.\nMy home lies far away in distant lands.\nI did but tarry here to wait for thee\nAnd tell thee many things about thyself.\nI knew thee when thou wert a little babe,\nSmiling upon thy loving mother's breast.\nThy earliest lisp still laugheth in my ear.\nAnd thy dear widowed mother, sweet Heartsrue,\nAlthough she mourned, smiled also in her joy\nWhen thou wert come, a laughing new-born love.\nThy cradle was a nest of softest moss,\nAnd her caresses lulled thee to thy sleep.\nShe watched thee lovingly through all thy sleep\nAnd waked thee in the morning with her tears\nOf mingled love and pain for him who died.\nAnd that thy life should know no strife of men,\nNor care nor perils as thy sire had known,\nBecame her only care. So in the woods\nShe went with thee to hide in quiet there.\nAnd there she hoped no evil of the world,\nNor ways of sinful men would come to thee.\nDidst thou not hear her sorrowful lament\nWhen thou didst roam too far or late from home?\nDidst thou not hear her laughter in her joy\nWhen she would give thee welcome home again,--\nWhen her dear arms were close around thy neck\nAnd her sweet kisses on thy loving lips?\nBut thou hast never known what I have known\nOf those last days of thy dear mother's love.\nThou didst not hear the secret sighs and moans,\nAnd at the last the tempest of her grief,\nWhen after many days thou didst not come,\nAnd not a trace of thee could e'er be found.\nShe waited through the weary days and nights,\nAnd then her open tears and cries were stilled,\nAnd secret grief was eating at her life,\nUntil at last her anguished heart did break,\nAnd thy dear mother, gentle Heartsrue, died.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal in tenderest grief drew near,\nAnd sank in sorrow at the maiden's feet,\nAnd cried: \"O woe is me! What have I done,\nO sweetest, dearest, gentlest mother mine,\nThat I thy son shouldst bring thee to thy death?\nO blind I was, and wretched, and accurst\nTo wander off and leave thy tender love.\nO faithful, fondest, fairest of all mothers!\"\n\nAnd Parsifal was weak with pain and grief,\nAnd gently did the maiden bend to him\nAnd wreathe her arms confiding round his neck.\nAnd whisper to him: \"Since thou knowest grief,\nLet me be comfort to thy sorrowing heart.\nAnd let thy bitter woe find sweet relief\nIn consolations of the tenderest love.\"\n\nBut Parsifal: \"Yea, yea, I did forget\nThe mother that hath borne me in her love.\nAnd how much else have I forgotten now!\nWhat have I yet remembered to my good?\nA blindness seems to hold me in its thrall.\"\n\nThen said the maiden: \"Thou hast spoken true,\nBut full confession endeth sorrow's pain,\nAnd sadness brings its fuller gift of wisdom.\nThy heart has learned its lesson of deep grief;\nNow it should learn its lesson of sweet love,\nSuch love as burned in thine own father's heart\nWhene'er he held dear Heartsrue to his breast.\nThy mother with her flaming heart of love\nGave thee her life,--it throbs within thee now,--\nAnd thus she sends her blessing from above,\nAnd gives to thee this sweetest kiss of love.\"\n\nAnd at the words she held him in her arms,\nAnd pressed upon his lips a fervent kiss.\n\nThen there was silence, deep and terrible,\nAs if the destiny of all the world\nHung in the balance of that fervent kiss.\nBut still she held him in her clinging arms....\nThen Parsifal, as if the kiss had stung\nHis being into horror of new pain,\nSprang up with anguish in his pallid face,--\nHis hands held tight against his throbbing heart,\nAs if to stifle some great agony,--\nAnd at the last he cried with voice of pain:\n\"Amfortas! O Amfortas! O Amfortas!\nI know it now! The Spear-wound in thy side!\nIt burns my heart! It sears my very soul!\nO grief and horror in my being's depth!\nO misery! O anguish beyond words!\nThe wound is bleeding here in mine own side!\"\n\nAnd as the maiden watched him in her fear,\nHe spake again in fierce and awful strain:\n\"Nay, this is not the Spear-wound in my side!\nThere let the life-blood flow itself to death!\nFor this is fire and flame within my heart\nThat sways my senses in delirium,--\nThe awful madness of tormenting love!\nNow do I see how all the world is stirred,\nTossed and convulsed, and often lost in shame\nBy the terrific passions of the heart!\"\n\nThen growing calmer, Parsifal spake on,\nAs if an echo of the wail of God\nOver the world's sad suffering and sin:\n\"I seem to see the bless\u00e8d Holy Cup\nAnd in its depths the Saviour's blood doth glow.\nThe rapture of redemption sweet and mild\nTrembleth afar through all the universe,\nExcept within a sin-polluted heart.\nSuch is Amfortas whom I must redeem.\nI heard the suffering Saviour's sad lament\nOver His sanctuary shamed in sin;\nI heard His words--'Deliver me from hands\nThat have profaned the holiest with guilt!\nSo rang the words within my very soul.\nYet I, forgetting what my Lord had said,\nHave wandered off in boyish foolishness....\nO Lord, behold my sorrow at Thy feet!\nHave mercy on me, blest Redeemer mine,\nAnd show me how my sin can be atoned!\"\n\nThen came the maiden near in trembling way,\nAs if her wonder was to pity turned,\nAnd spake: \"My noble knight, fling off this spell!\nLook up, and this heart's love shall comfort thee!\"\nBut Parsifal with fixed look answered her:\n\"Ah, woman, now I know thee who thou art.\nThy voice it was that pleaded with Amfortas;\nThine eye that smiled away his peace of heart;\nThy lips that tempted him to taste of sin;\nThis same white throat was bending over him;\nThis proudly tossing head; these laughing curls;\nSo these fair arms were winding round his neck;\nAnd every feature soft in flattery;\nWhen thou didst bring him agony untold,\nAnd stole his soul's salvation with thy kiss!\nOut and away, destroyer of men's souls!\nTake thy pernicious wiles and get thee gone!\"\n\nBut Kundry--for 't was she--cried out in grief:\n\"O heart, that feelest for Amfortas' woe,\nHast thou no feeling for my dire distress?\nThou camest here to save the King from sin,\nWhy not save me and bring me my redemption?\nThrough endless ages I have waited thee,--\nFor thou dost seem to me a very savior,\nLike Him whom long ago I did revile.\nO that thou knewest my story and the curse\nWhich waking, sleeping, joyous, or in woe,\nBrings me forth sorrow and a deep despair.\nThis is my story. Once I saw the Lord\nIn those sad days of His sad earthly life,\nFor in a previous existence I\nWas also living in fair Galilee;\nThese eyes did see Him on the dolorous way\nThat led His sorrowing feet to Calvary.\nAnd in light scorn, I laughed at Him.... I laughed.\"\n\nAnd when she spake these words--\"I laughed\"--\nShe stopped in pain and for an awful moment\nHer deed spake in the silence, horror-stricken.\nAnd Parsifal deep shuddered at the word,\nBut she spake on: \"I laughed at Him. Whereat\nHe looked at me. Ah! ne'er shall I forget!...\nAnd now forever am I seeking Him,\nFrom age to age and e'en from world to world,\nTo stand once more before Him in contrition.\nSometimes His eye doth seem to glance on me,\nAnd then accurs\u00e8d laughter seizes me,\nAnd I am ready for the deeds of Hell.\nI laugh and laugh, but never can I weep.\nI wander storming, raving, but no tears.\nThe night of madness holds me, but no tears.\nO could I weep, I know I would be saved.\nBe pitiful, and be a savior to me!\nFor thee, like Him, I have derided oft.\nNow do I come to thee with heart of love;\nLet me but rest upon thy breast and weep,\nTake me but to thyself for one short hour,\nAnd thou shalt save eternity for me,\nAnd in my tears my sin shall be atoned!\"\n\nBut Parsifal: \"Eternity were lost\nFor both of us, if even for an hour\nI yielded to the sin of loving thee,\nAnd in that hour forgot my holy mission.\nFor I am also sent to save thy soul\nAnd to deliver thee from curse of lust.\nThe love that burns in thee is only lust.\nBetween that and the pure love of true hearts\nThere yawns abyss like that 'twixt Heaven and Hell;\nNor can the foul fount e'er be closed in thee,\nUntil the pure fount shall be opened wide;\nNor can thy sinful heart be ever saved\nBy heavy sorrow and much agony;\nNor e'en by service rendered unto others;\nOnly one way can save thy guilty soul--\nOnly by giving all to Christ's dear love.\nThe curse that rests upon the brotherhood\nIs something different by another's sin.\nThey pine and languish for the Holy Grail,\nAnd yet they know the wondrous fount of life.\nBut thou! what wouldst thou do to save thy soul?\nO misery! O false and daring deed!\nThou wouldst see rest and Heaven's holy peace,\nBy way of Hell, and death's eternal night!\"\n\nThen Kundry cried in wildest ecstasy:\n\"And hath a single kiss from me conveyed\nSuch boundless knowledge to thine eager soul,\nAnd given unto thee a world-wide vision?\nO let my perfect love embrace thy heart,\nAnd it shall quicken thee to godlike power!\nDeliver sin-lost souls! It is thy work!\nStand as a god revealed! It is thy right!\nTake thou my love, and take this godlike power,\nAnd let me perish! Thou art all to me!\"\n\nThen Parsifal: \"I offer thee deliverance,\nBut not in this way, impious one.\"\n\nBut Kundry: \"Let me love thee, my divine one!\nThis the deliverance I ask of thee.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal: \"Love and deliverance\nShall come to thee in truest, noblest way,\nIf thou wilt guide me to Amfortas now.\"\n\nThen Kundry into maddened fury broke,\nAnd cried: \"No, never shalt thou find the King.\nLet the doomed King go to his desperate shame.\nAh! hapless wretch whom I derided laughing,\nHe fell at last by his own sacred Spear.\"\n\nThen Parsifal: \"The King was brave and good.\nWho dared to wound him with the sacred Spear?\"\n\nAnd Kundry answered: \"He has wounded him!\nHe who can put my laughter into flight!\nHe who enslaves me to his utter will!\nHis spell is on me and doth give me might.\nYea, and the Spear shall also thrust thee through,\nIf thou wilt pity that poor craven's fate!\nO Parsifal, pray give to me thy pity!\nLet but one single hour be mine and thine,\nAnd then thou shalt be guided as thou wilt!\"\n\nAnd as she spake, she sought to hold him fast,\nBut off he thrust her with the last fierce words:\n\"Unhand me, wretched woman! Be ye gone!\"\n\nAnd Kundry beat her breast and cried in rage:\n\"Hither, ye powers of darkness! Hither, help!\nSeize on the caitiff who defies my will!\nGuard ye the ways, and ward the passage there!\nAh, Parsifal, if thou shouldst fly from hence\nAnd learn the ways through all the weary world,\nThe one Way that thou seekest to the King--\nThat thou shalt never find! So have I sworn!\nSo do I curse all pathways and all courses\nThat lead thee from me. Wander, then, I say!\nWander forever, but the King find never!\nI give thee up to Klingsor as thy guide,--\nKlingsor my royal Lord and magic Master.\"\n\nAnd scarce the words had left her cursing lips,\nThan Klingsor's ugly form was on the wall.\nIn his black hands he swung the sacred Spear\nAnd cried: \"Halt there, thou curs\u00e8d guileless One!\nFeel thou the keenness of thy Master's Spear!\"\n\nWith that, he hurled it full at Parsifal;\nBut miracle of miracles! it stopped\nAbove the head of Parsifal, and there\nIt floated in the radiant air, a glory.\nAnd Parsifal, with upward look and prayer,\nGrasped it and wielded with supremest joy,\nAnd with it marked upon the air, the cross;\n\nAnd cried: \"This sign of holy cross I make,\nAnd ban thy curs\u00e8d magic evermore\nAnd as it soon shall heal the burning wound,\nSo may it wound thy power to utter wreck!\"\n\nAnd as the words of Parsifal were said,\nAn earthquake shook the castle to the ground,\nThe garden withered into desert waste\nStrewn with the flowers, faded, desolate,--\nAnd Kundry, crying loud, fell to the earth.\n\nSo Parsifal held high the holy Spear\nAnd left the garden-waste and broken tower,\nAnd all the ruin of the haunts of sin,\nBut stood a moment on the shattered walls\nAnd looked at Kundry lying on the ground,\nAnd spake: \"Thou knowest where we meet again!\"\nAnd as he went, sad Kundry raised herself\nA little, and looked after him.\n\n                                 O Kundry!\nSinful and yet desiring to be helped,\nEnthralled of sin, yet seeking after God!\nThou art our human nature, after all,--\nStrange contradiction, mingled love and hate,\nHalf demon and half angel in thy moods!\n\n\n\n\nPARSIFAL. PART III.\n\n\n\nTHE CROWNING OF PARSIFAL\n\n\nMorning was breaking in the pleasant land,\nWhere rising meadows full of fragrant flowers\nSkirt with their beauty the deep forest wilds,\nThat lead to rocky cliffs among whose peaks\nLies Monsalvat, the castle of the Grail.\n\nForth from a hut that leans against the rock,\nClose to a woodland spring, came Gurnemanz,\nThe faithful knight and noble counsellor,\nBut now a lonely hermit of the woods,\nClad in the sacred tunic of the Grail,\nGrown very old and bent, and hair snow-white.\n\nHe listened for awhile, then spake: \"What moans\nFrom yonder thicket come? No forest beast\nDoth utter cry so piteous and sad.\nThis holy morn, the holiest of the year,\nDoth bring to Nature a deep-thrilling joy.\n'T is only humankind that can be sad.\nAh! there again the grieving and the moans,--\nMethinks I know that sad despairing cry.\nThese brambles I will tear apart and see\nWhat their thick undergrowth so well conceals.\nAh! Here she is again! The winter's thorn\nHas been her grave these many weary years.\nWake, Kundry, wake! The winter long is past;\nThe spring has come! Awaken with the flowers!\nHow cold she is, and rigid as the dead!\nI could believe her dead,--and yet I heard\nHer groaning and her piteous moan erstwhile.\"\n\nAnd kneeling down, he chafed her hands and face,\nBreathed on them to awaken life again;\nAnd at the last a tremor thrilled her through.\nIn deep amaze she wakened from her sleep,\nAnd opened her sad eyes, with startled cries.\nLong did she gaze on ag\u00e8d Gurnemanz;\nThen she arose, but her whole mien was changed,--\nThe wildness of her former life was gone;\nA tender softness shone forth from her eyes;\nA gentle bearing lent an added grace;\nAnd without word of question, or of thanks,\nAway she moved as if a serving-maid.\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Hast thou no word for me?\nAre these my thanks, that from the sleep of death\nI waked thee?\"\n\n               Kundry slowly bent her head,\nAnd murmured brokenly the words: \"To serve,--\nO let me serve thee and the Holy Grail.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz again: \"This were light toil,--\nFor days of saddest peace have come to us,\nAnd deeds of valiant arms no more are done.\nA dark despair is over Monsalvat;\nNo messengers are sent to distant parts\nTo stir the hearts of fighting warriors;\nLike every creature of the leafy woods,\nEach man doth serve himself in daily needs.\"\nBut Kundry had perceived the hermit-hut,\nAnd knew that she could serve in little things;\nAnd unto it she went to find some task.\n\nAnd Gurnemanz deep wondered, and he spoke:\n\"How unlike days of yore her step and way,--\nGrace in her step and grace in countenance.\nPerchance God giveth grace to her sad heart.\nPerchance this holy morn hath wrought the change.\nO day of boundless mercy, 'twas for this--\nHer soul's salvation and another life--\nThat I have wakened her from sleep of death!\nSee, with a pitcher comes she from the hut,\nAnd fills it at the spring!... But who is this\nThat now I see approaching through the woods\nAnd drawing slowly near the holy spring?\nYon knight is not a brother of the Grail,\nWith all that war accoutrement of gloom.\"\n\nAnd one drew near, a splendid armored knight,\nHis armor shining black as darkest night,\nHis helmet closed, and lowered was his spear.\nForward he walked as if he moved in dream,\nAs if a servant of some high emprise,\nNeither to right nor left he turned his face,\nBut seated him beyond the holy spring.\n\nAnd Gurnemanz close watched him and his ways\nAnd wondered who the splendid knight might be;\nThen ventured near with courteous salute:\n\"All hail to thee, sir knight, and welcome here!\nArt thou astray, and may I give thee aid?...\nNo word for me, but bowing of thy head?\nPerchance my lord is under knightly vow\nTo perfect silence, as my vows bind me\nTo courtesy and service. Therefore hear\nWhere now thou art and what is due this place.\nThis is a holy woods and this a holy spring,\nWithin the domain of the Holy Grail,\nWhere in his armor none hath right to come\nWith helmet closed, and shield and shining spear.\nBesides, dost thou not know what day this is?\nNot know the day? From whence then hast thou come?\nWhat heathen darkness hath been thine abode\nThat thou rememberest not this holy day,--\nThe ever-hallow\u00e8d Good-Friday morn?\nPut off thy heavy armor, for the Lord,\nBare of defence, on this most holy day,\nDid freely shed His blood to save the world,\nAnd bring the time of kindness and of peace.\"\n\nAnd silently, without an answering word,\nThe stranger knight fixed in the ground his spear,\nAnd at its foot lay down his shield and sword,\nOpened his helmet, placed it on the ground,\nAnd knelt in silent prayer before the spear.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWith wonder and deep feeling, Gurnemanz\nHad watched the knight, and as he saw him pray\nAnd saw the face upturn\u00e8d to the light,\nHe knew him, and to Kundry softly spake,\nWho now drew near: \"Thou knowest him. 'T is he\nWho long ago laid low the snow-white swan,--\nHe whom in anger I thrust out-of-doors.\nWhere has he wandered since that luckless day?\nBut look! Behold the spear! It is the Spear\nFor which my eager heart has longed and prayed!\nO holy day, on which the Spear comes home!\nO happy day to which my soul awakes!\"\n\nAnd when the knight had ended all his prayer,\nHe slowly rose, and looked about and saw\nThe ag\u00e8d hermit, snowy-crowned with age;\nAnd suddenly he knew that kindly form,\nAnd rushed to Gurnemanz with eager face,\nAnd crying: \"Good my friend, all hail to thee!\nThank Heaven that I find thee once again!\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"Dost thou remember me,\nAfter so many long and weary years,\nAnd bent with grief and care as now I am,\nAnd covered with the clustering snow of age?\nBut tell me, what has passed since last we met?\nAnd how didst thou come here, and whence, and why?\"\n\nAnd Parsifal--for it was he--replied:\n\"Through error and through sufferings I come,\nThrough many failures and through countless woes.\nThus was the guileless One at last enlightened,\nAnd taught the depths of pity and of love.\nAnd can it be that now the trials are ended\nAnd peace has come, and holiness at last?\nYet here I am within this holy wood,\nAnd here art thou, dear servant of the Grail.\nBut, do I err, this place seems somehow changed\nFrom what it was in days of yore? The life,\nThe joy seem to have vanished, and I feel\nAs if a cloud hung over Monsalvat.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"Too true thine every word,\nBut tell me, pray, for whom thou here dost seek?\"\n\nAnd with a wondrous light within his eyes,\nDid Parsifal with earnest words reply:\n\"I come to him whose piteous moans of pain\nI heard long years ago, nor understood.--\nThe guileless One went forth from thee a boy,\nImpetuous, fierce, who did not know himself;\nHe comes again a man with tenderest pity,\nAnd deep experience and heart enlightened,\nTo be the healer of the stricken King.\nBut long the course by which I learned the way,\nAnd bitter all the wanderings, where sin\nHad laid its snares, and sought to curse my soul.\nMany the perils and right fierce the strife,\nYet clung I to the pathway of the right.\nAnd at the last I won the sacred Spear\nBy God's good mercy and His boundless love.\nBut even with the Spear within my hands\nOft came a fearful dread upon my heart,\nLest I might lose this treasure that He gave\nInto my keeping, for never durst I use\nThis sacred Spear in battle-blows or strife,--\nIt was for healing wounds, not making them,--\nAnd so in many a fight I took the wounds\nFrom other weapons, but profaned this never.\nI bring it home virgin and undefiled,\nAnd consecrate it to its healing work.\nThus does it gleam before thee, even now,--\nThe wonder-working power, the sacred Spear!\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz, with joyous heart, replied:\n\"O grace and glory, bless\u00e8d gift of God!\nO miracle of holy healing power\nThat thou hast brought us in the sacred Spear!\nSir knight, if it were once a cruel thing\nThat drove thee wandering in the evil world,\nAnd if it ever were a curse to strive\nIn subtle snares and temptings manifold,\nBelieve me, now the spell is surely broken.\nHere thou art now within the Grail's dominion.\nHere wait for thee an eager band of knights.\nAh! how they need the blessing that thou bringest.\nFor since that morning when thou first wert here,\nThe sorrow and the anguish that thou heard'st\nHave grown until the woe has covered all.\nAnd King Amfortas, soul and body wracked,\nDid crave in desperation only death,\nAnd so refused to show the Holy Grail.\nNo prayer, no sorrow of his brother-knights\nCould move him to fulfil his sacred trust.\nClose in its shrouded shrine the Cup remained.\nFor King Amfortas hopes that if his eyes\nShall see the Grail no more, that he may die,\nAnd with his life thus end his bitter pain.\nThe holy Supper also is denied us,--\nOur daily portion only common food.\nThereby exhausted is our former strength.\nNo more the cry for succor comes to us,\nNor call to holy war from distant lands;\nBut pale and wretched wander forth the knights,\nHopeless and leaderless in these dark days.\nHere in the forest I myself have hid,\nIn quiet waiting for the hour of death,\nAlready come unto my warrior-lord,\nThe ag\u00e8d Titurel. For when no more\nHe could behold the vision of the Grail,\nThen did his sad heart fail him, and he died.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal in sudden sorrow cried:\n\"What have I done to let this curse go on?\nWhy have I wasted all these precious years\nIn wandering, while here was deepest woe?\nWhy did I never see the needed truth\nThat no repentance can assuage the grief,\nNo expiation can atone the wrong,\nUntil another feels the bitter pain,\nAnd takes it willingly to his own heart?\nHere I was chosen to redeem the wrong,\nAnd save the anguish of the stricken King,\nAnd yet how blind has been my foolish heart!\nCan blindness mean impurity and sin,\nAnd may it be that I am all deceived,--\nMy way all lost, my hopes forever gone?\"\n\nAnd in the bitter struggle of his soul,\nAnd in the self-abasement of his heart,\nAnd in the strong reaction that oft comes\nTo spiritual natures, deep and fine,\nHe would have fallen helpless to the ground;\nBut Gurnemanz quick caught him in his arms,\nAnd led him sinking to a grassy mound,\nAnd Kundry ran with water for his brow.\n\nBut Gurnemanz: \"Not so. The holy spring\nShall now revive our pilgrim's waning strength.\nMy heart sees noble work for him to-day.\nA sacred mystic duty doth await him.\nHe shall be pure as light, and all the dust\nOf travel and of error washed away!\"\n\nThen from his limbs they took the mighty greaves,\nAnd loosed the woven corselet from his side,\nAnd bathed his feet and brought him to himself.\n\nAnd straight he asked: \"And shall I see the King?\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"Thou shalt behold the King\nThis very day and speak thy word to him.\nThe death-rites of mine ag\u00e8d warrior-lord,\nThe noble Titurel, doth call me to the court;\nAnd there again the Grail shall be revealed.\nFor King Amfortas hath by solemn vow\nPromised once more to open up the shrine,\nSworn to fulfil the long-neglected office,\nTo sanctify the saintly father's end,\nAnd expiate the deep unfilial crime,\nThe added sin, that broke his father's heart.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke, the kindly Kundry bathed\nThe feet of Parsifal, who looked at her\nWith gentle wonder and a pitying love,\nAnd said: \"So humbly hast thou washed my feet,\nPerchance the good and faithful Gurnemanz\nMay sprinkle my poor head with holy water,\nAnd give my soul his gracious benediction.\"\n\nAnd Gurnemanz took water from the spring,\nAnd sprinkled Parsifal in holy rite,\nAnd uttered over him the benediction:\n\"O guileless One, thrice bless\u00e8d be and pure,\nAnd free forever from all care and sin!\"\n\nThen Kundry from her bosom drew a vial,\nA golden vial, full of perfumed oil,\nAnd poured its soothing fragrance on his feet\nAnd dried them with her flowing unbound hair.\n\nAnd Parsifal reached out and took the vial,\nAnd gave it unto Gurnemanz and said:\n\"This woman hath anointed these my feet;\nLet now the faithful servant of the Grail,\nAnd minister of sainted Titurel,\nAnoint my chosen head with holy oil,\nThat I may take the office, as God will,\nAnd you to-day may greet me as your King.\"\n\nSo Gurnemanz performed the kingly rite,\nAnointing Parsifal with holy oil,\nAnd laid the hands of blessing on his head,\nAnd said: \"So came the ancient word to us;\nSo with my blessing do I greet thee now,\nAnd hail thee as the God-elected King!\nThou art His guileless One, by pity 'lightened,\nPatient in suffering, and taught by woe.\nMuch hast thou suffered to redeem another;\nGod give thee now the grace for crowning all.\"\n\nThen Parsifal took water from the spring,\nAnd came to Kundry kneeling at his feet,\nAnd sprinkled her with solemn mystic rite,\nAnd said: \"This be the first work of my trust.\nKundry, in Christ's dear name I sprinkle thee.\nBe thou redeemed and holy evermore!\"\n\nAnd in a passion of rejoicing tears\nShe kneeled there and her voice gave praise to God.\n\nAnd Parsifal looked on the fields and woods,\nSo fair and radiant in the morning light,\nAnd uttered forth the rapture of his heart:\n\"How beautiful these morning meadows are!\nSo fresh, so sweet, so radiantly pure!\nFull many a flower in other days I saw,\nBut full of subtle poison was their breath\nAnd they were snares of baneful witchery.\nBut these are God's own blossoms full of grace.\nThese twining vines that burst with purple bloom,\nThese fragrant flowers, so innocent and fair,--\nThey speak to me of loving childhood's days,\nAnd tell me of the boundless love of God.\"\n\nThen Gurnemanz: \"On fair Good-Friday morn,\nAll nature seems a-thrill with new delight.\"\n\nAnd Parsifal: \"Yet strange that it is so.\nThat darkest day of agony divine\nMight well have cast a pall of gloom o'er all,\nAnd plunged all Nature into deepest woe.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" the gentle Gurnemanz replied,\n\"The Saviour's work hath wrought a miracle,\nAnd now the grateful tears of penitence\nAre holy dew that falls upon the world,\nAnd makes it bloom in fair and lustrous beauty;\nAnd all creation knows God's saving work,\nAnd praises Him for His redeeming grace.\nNo more the agony of that grim Cross,\nBut now the joy of man redeemed and saved,\nFreed from the load of sin by conquering faith,\nAnd purified by Love's great sacrifice.\nEach sprouting blade and meadow-flower doth see\nSomething of God's grace in the heart of man;\nFor as the Lord was tender unto man,\nSo man in turn will love God's flowering earth.\nThe whole creation therefore doth rejoice,\nAnd every bird and flower is full of praise,\nAnd Nature everywhere is full of God,\nAnd sweet has dawned this day of innocence.\"\n\nThen Kundry, with the tears still in her eyes,\nLooked up at Parsifal, and soft he spake:\n\"I saw the hearts that mocked us fade away,\nBut love shall bloom eternal in God's grace.\nBlest tears that speak the blessing in thy heart.\nBut weep no more. God's grace is full of joy,--\nSmile with all Nature, joyously redeemed!\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAnd down he bent, and on her pure white brow\nPrinted the kiss of God's redeeming love.\n\nThen chimed the distant bells, and louder yet\nThe gradual growing music of sweet sounds.\n\nAnd Gurnemanz: \"The hour has come, midday.\nPermit me now to lead thee to the Grail!\"\n\nAnd Parsifal was clothed in holy garb,--\nThe dove-embroidered mantle of the Grail,--\nWhich Gurnemanz had brought him from the hut,\nAnd grasped the sacred Spear and followed on.\n\nAgain they climbed the rocky passages,\nAnd reached at last the castle's pillared hall,\nCrowned with the mighty dome of blazing light.\nSlowly the knights in mourning garb marched in,\nBearing the corpse of saintly Titurel.\nSlowly the servitors marched sadly in,\nBearing the pale Amfortas on his couch.\nAnd going on in front the acolytes\nBore in the Grail in heavy covered shrine.\nAnd as they marched, they sang this solemn hymn:\n\n  \"Here do we bear the Holy Grail,\n     Long hidden in this shrine;\n   No more its wondrous grace is seen,\n     No more its glories shine!\n\n  \"Here saintly Titurel we bear,\n     The faithful knight and king;\n   When he no more the Grail could see,\n     He died in sorrowing!\n\n  \"And here Amfortas now we bear--\n     God shrive him from the past;\n   For he has sworn to do his trust\n     And show the Grail at last!\"\n\nAnd suffering Amfortas turned and groaned,\nAnd raised himself a little on his couch,\nAnd cried: \"O woe is me! O woe is me!\nMy tears are flowing from my very heart.\nWould I had died before I saw this hour.\nYet death is mercy that I cannot hope.\"\n\nThen solemnly the knights, with sacred awe,\nUncovered saintly Titurel, and looked\nOnce more upon that well-belov\u00e8d face,\nAnd there was sound of weeping everywhere.\nAnd sadly did Amfortas speak the words:\n\"My father, blest among God's heroes ever!\nThou before whom the angels loved to bow,\nForgive me for my most unfilial sin,--\nI sought for death, yet struck thee to the heart,\nBy holding back the vision of the Grail.\nO thou who now in radiance divine\nDost see the blest Redeemer face to face,\nBeseech for me that when I show the Grail\nIt may give life anew to these dear knights--\nBut death to me--sweet death for which I long.\nO death, kind mercy of the living God,\nStifle this heart and rid me of my pain!\nFather, I plead with thee to cry to Him:\n'Redeemer, give my son release and peace!'\"\n\nThereat the knights came pressing up and cried:\n\"Unveil the Grail and do thine office now!\nThe death-rite of thy father doth demand it!\"\n\nBut in a mad despair Amfortas rose,\nAnd wildly rushed among the startled knights,\nAnd cried: \"No, no, I cannot do it now!\nDeath is so near me, only let me die!\nWhy should I turn again to dreadful life?\nRather I plead with you to slay me here!\nSee, here I stand, the open wound is here!\nThus am I poisoned, here flows forth the blood!\nDraw ye your swords and plunge them to the hilt!\nKill both the sinner and his awful pain!\nThen will the Grail forever shine for you,\nAnd blessing come to you for evermore!\"\n\nBut all shrank back in terror from the King,\nWho stood in frenzied madness there alone.\n\nThen Parsifal drew near, and slowly spake:\n\"Only one weapon serves to kill that pain.\nThe one that struck can staunch thy wound again!\"\n\nAnd with the sacred Spear he touched the King.\nAnd lo! a miracle of healing power!--\nThe wound was staunched and a deep thrill of love\nChanged agony to rapture all divine.\n\nAnd Parsifal spake on: \"Thou art forgiven.\nBody and soul are cleansed by God's free grace\nThy life for evermore shall happy be\nWithin the service of the Holy Grail.\nBut never more as King, for I have come\nTo take thy place as God hath so decreed.\nThy sorrows shall be blessings unto thee,\nFor thus by pity was the guileless 'lightened,\nAnd God's own Son was perfect made by pain.\nKnights of the Grail, behold the sacred Spear!\nGod gave it me but to restore to you!\"\n\nAnd all with reverent joy beheld the Spear,\nAnd thanked the Lord that it had come again\nTo bring the golden days of health and power.\nAnd as they looked in rapture and in awe,\nThe Spear-point seemed to glow with holy fire\nAnd sparkled, turning red like flowing blood.\n\nAnd Parsifal spoke on: \"O miracle\nAnd marvel of the holy power of God.\nThis sacred Spear is flowing with the blood,\nThe very blood of that same wondrous Saviour,\nThat floweth in the crystal of the Grail.\nThe double blessing shall its glory give.\nOpen the shrine! Reveal the Holy Grail!\"\n\nAnd quick the sacred shrine was opened wide\nAnd Parsifal long knelt in silent prayer,\nAbsorbed in holy rapture at the sight.\n\nThen suddenly the heavenly splendor fell\nAnd flamed and glowed within the sacred Cup,\nWhile wondrous glory flooded all the hall\nAnd filled each heart with deep and holy joy.\nAnd from the lofty dome a dove descended,\nAnd hovered lovingly o'er Parsifal.\n\nThus Parsifal was crowned of God and man,\nAnd slowly did he lift the Holy Grail,\nThe red blood glowing with its wondrous light,\nAnd waved it in the air before the knights,\nWho knelt around him, praising God on high.\nAnd there had Kundry come with new-found faith\nAnd crept within the splendor of the Grail\nAnd, with its light upon her, died,--redeemed!\n\nAnd still did Parsifal hold up the Grail,\nSeeming a vision of the very Christ,\nHis crimson mantle changed to lustrous whiteness.\nHis lips seemed speaking loving benediction;\nAnd marvellous the red glow of the Grail;\nAnd beautiful the white dove soaring there.\nWhile from the heights the softest voices sang:\n\n  \"Highest wonder! blest salvation!\n   Praise the Lord for our redemption!\"\n\n\nTHE END","title":"Parsifal: A Mystical Drama by Richard Wagner Retold in the Spirit of the Bayreuth Interpretation","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":15872}