{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_47297/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_47297","id":"gutenberg_47297","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/47297","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: German Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Perceval (Legendary character) -- Romances"],"text":"PARZIVAL\n\nVOL. I\n\nBOOKS I.-IX.\n\n\n PARZIVAL\n\n A KNIGHTLY EPIC\n\n BY\n\n WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH\n\n TRANSLATED BY\n\n JESSIE L. WESTON\n\n VOL. I\n\n ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894.\n\n NEW YORK\n G. E. STECHERT & CO.,\n 1912.\n\n TO THE MEMORY OF\n RICHARD WAGNER\n WHOSE GENIUS HAS GIVEN FRESH LIFE\n TO THE CREATIONS OF MEDI\u00c6VAL ROMANCE\n THIS TRANSLATION IS\n DEDICATED\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n BOOK PAGE\n\n INTRODUCTION ix\n I. GAMURET 1\n II. HERZELEIDE 33\n III. GURNEMANZ 63\n IV. KONDWIRAMUR 101\n V. ANFORTAS 127\n VI. ARTHUR 157\n VII. OBILOT 193\n VIII. ANTIKONIE 227\n IX. TREVREZENT 249\n APPENDICES 289\n NOTES 299\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nIn presenting, for the first time, to English readers the greatest\nwork of Germany's greatest medi\u00e6val poet, a few words of introduction,\nalike for poem and writer, may not be out of place. The lapse of nearly\nseven hundred years, and the changes which the centuries have worked,\nalike in language and in thought, would have naturally operated to\nrender any work unfamiliar, still more so when that work was composed\nin a foreign tongue; but, indeed, it is only within the present century\nthat the original text of the _Parzival_ has been collated from the\nMSS. and made accessible, even in its own land, to the general reader.\nBut the interest which is now felt by many in the Arthurian romances,\nquickened into life doubtless by the genius of the late Poet Laureate,\nand the fact that the greatest composer of our time, Richard Wagner,\nhas selected this poem as the groundwork of that wonderful drama, which\na growing consensus of opinion has hailed as the grandest artistic\nachievement of this century, seem to indicate that the time has come\nwhen the work of Wolfram von Eschenbach may hope to receive, from a\nwider public than that of his own day, the recognition which it so well\ndeserves.\n\nOf the poet himself we know but little, save from the personal\nallusions scattered throughout his works; the dates of his birth\nand death are alike unrecorded, but the frequent notices of\ncontemporary events to be found in his poems enable us to fix with\ntolerable certainty the period of his literary activity, and to judge\napproximately the outline of his life. Wolfram's greatest work, the\n_Parzival_, was apparently written within the early years of the\nthirteenth century; he makes constant allusions to events happening,\nand to works produced, within the first decade of that period; and as\nhis latest work, the _Willehalm_, left unfinished, mentions as recent\nthe death of the Landgrave Herman of Thuringia, which occurred in 1216,\nthe probability seems to be that the _Parzival_ was written within the\nfirst fifteen years of the thirteenth century. Inasmuch, too, as this\nwork bears no traces of immaturity in thought or style, it is probable\nthat the date of the poet's birth cannot be placed much later than 1170.\n\nThe name, Wolfram von Eschenbach, points to Eschenbach in Bavaria as\nin all probability the place of his birth, as it certainly was of his\nburial. So late as the end of the seventeenth century his tomb, with\ninscription, was to be seen in the Frauen-kirche of Ober-Eschenbach,\nand the fact that within a short distance of the town are to be\nfound localities mentioned in his poems, such as Wildberg, Abenberg,\nTr\u00fchending, Wertheim, etc., seems to show that there, too, the life of\nthe poet-knight was spent.\n\nBy birth, as Wolfram himself tells us, he belonged to the knightly\norder (Zum Schildesamt bin Ich geboren), though whether his family was\nnoble or not is a disputed point, in any case Wolfram was a poor man,\nas the humorous allusions which he makes to his poverty abundantly\ntestify. Yet he does not seem to have led the life of a wandering\nsinger, as did his famous contemporary, Walther von der Vogelweide;\nif Wolfram journeyed, as he probably did, it was rather in search of\nknightly adventures, he tells us: 'Durchstreifen muss Der Lande viel,\nWer Schildesamt verwalten will,' and though fully conscious of his\ngift of song, yet he systematically exalts his office of _knight_\nabove that of _poet_. The period when Wolfram lived and sang, we\ncannot say _wrote_, for by his own confession he could neither read\nnor write ('I'ne kan decheinen buochstap,' he says in _Parzival_; and\nin _Willehalm_, 'Waz an den buochen steht geschrieben, Des bin Ich\nkunstelos geblieben'), and his poems must, therefore, have been orally\ndictated, was one peculiarly fitted to develop his special genius.\nUnder the rule of the Hohenstaufen the institution of knighthood had\nreached its highest point of glory, and had not yet lapsed into the\nextravagant absurdities and unrealities which characterised its period\nof decadence; and the Arthurian romances which first found shape in\nNorthern France had just passed into Germany, there to be gladly\nwelcomed, and to receive at the hands of German poets the impress of an\nethical and philosophical interpretation foreign to their original form.\n\nIt was in these romances that Wolfram, in common with other of his\ncontemporaries, found his chief inspiration; in the _Parzival_,\nhis master-work, he has told again the story of the Quest for, and\nwinning of, the Grail; told it in connection with the Perceval legend,\nthrough the medium of which, it must be remembered, the spiritualising\ninfluence of the Grail myth first came into contact with the brilliant\nchivalry and low morality of the original Arthurian romances; and\ntold it in a manner that is as truly medi\u00e6val in form as it is modern\nin interpretation. The whole poem is instinct with the true knightly\nspirit; it has been well called _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_, the\nknightly song of songs, for Wolfram has seized not merely the external\nbut the very soul of knighthood, even as described in our own day by\nanother German poet; Wolfram's ideal knight, in his fidelity to his\nplighted word, his noble charity towards his fellow-man, lord of the\nGrail, with Its civilising, humanising influence, is a veritable 'true\nknight of the Holy Ghost.' In a short introduction such as this it\nis impossible to discuss with any fulness the fascinating problems\nconnected with this poem, one can do no more than indicate where the\nprincipal difficulties lie. These may be briefly said to be chiefly\nconnected with the source from which Wolfram derived his poem, and\nwith the interpretation of its ethical meaning. That Wolfram drew\nfrom a French source we know from his own statement, he quotes as his\nauthority a certain 'Kiot the Proven\u00e7al,' who, in his turn, found his\ninformation in an Arabian MS. at Toledo. Unfortunately no such poet,\nand no such poem, are known to us, while we do possess a French version\nof the story, _Li Conte del Graal_, by Chr\u00eatien de Troyes, which,\nso far as the greater part of the poem (_i.e._ Books III. to XIII.)\nis concerned, shows a remarkable agreement not only in sequence of\nincidents, but even in verbal correspondence, with Wolfram's work.\nChr\u00eatien, however, does not give either the first two or the last\nthree books as we find them in Wolfram. The account of Perceval's\nfather, and of his death, is by another hand than Chr\u00eatien's, and does\nnot agree with Wolfram's account; and the poem, left unfinished by\nChr\u00eatien, has been continued and concluded at great length by at least\nthree other writers, who have evidently drawn from differing sources;\nwhereas Wolfram's conclusion agrees closely with his introduction, and\nhis whole poem forms the most harmonious and complete version of the\nstory we possess. Wolfram knew Chr\u00eatien's poem, but refers to it with\ncontempt as being the wrong version of the tale, whereas 'Kiot' had\ntold the venture aright. The question then is, where did Wolfram really\nfind those portions of his poems which he _could not_ have drawn from\nChr\u00eatien? Is 'Kiot' a real, or a feigned, source?\n\nSome German critics have opined that Wolfram really knew no other poem\nthan Chr\u00eatien's, and that he boldly invented all that he did not find\nthere, feigning another source in order to conceal the fact. Others\nhave maintained that whether 'Kiot' be the name of the writer or not,\nWolfram certainly had before him a French poem other than _Li Conte del\nGraal_.\n\nIt certainly seems in the highest degree improbable that a _German_\npoet should have introduced the Angevin element, lacking in Chr\u00eatien;\nWolfram's presentment of the Grail, too, differs _in toto_ from any we\nfind elsewhere, with him it is not the cup of the Last Supper, but a\nprecious stone endowed with magical qualities. It is true that Chr\u00eatien\ndoes not say _what_ the Grail was, but simply that '_du fin or esmeree\nestoit, pieres pressieuses avoit el graal de maintes manieres_,' yet it\nseems scarcely likely that Wolfram should have interpreted this as a\nprecious stone, to say nothing of sundry Oriental features peculiar to\nhis description. But whence Wolfram derived his idea of the Grail is a\nproblem which it is to be feared will never now be completely solved.\n\nThe discussion as to the ethical meaning Wolfram attached to the story\nseems more hopeful of results, as here we do possess the requisite\ndata, and can study the poem for ourselves. The question between\ncritics is whether Wolfram intended to teach a purely religious lesson\nor not; whether the poem is an allegory of life, and Parzival a symbol\nof the Soul of man, hovering between Faith and Doubt, perplexed by the\napparent injustice of God's dealings with men, and finally fighting\nits way through the darkness of despair to the clear light of renewed\nfaith in God; or have we here a glorification of the knightly ideal? a\ndeclaration of the poet-knight's belief that in loyal acceptance of,\nand obedience to, the dictates of the knightly order, salvation is to\nbe won? Can the true knight, even though he lack faith in God, yet by\nkeeping intact his faith with man, by very loyalty and steadfastness\nof purpose, win back the spiritual blessing forfeited by his youthful\nfolly? Is Parzival one of those at whose hands 'the Kingdom of Heaven\nsuffereth violence'? It may well be that _both_ these interpretations\nare, in a measure, true, that Wolfram found the germ of the religious\nidea already existing in his French source, but that to the genius of\nthe German poet we owe that _humanising_ of the ideal which has brought\nthe _Parzival_ into harmony with the best aspirations of men in all\nages. This, at least, may be said with truth, that of all the romances\nof the Grail cycle, there is but one which can be presented, in its\nentirety, to the world of to-day with the conviction that its morality\nis as true, its human interest as real, its lesson as much needed now\nas it was seven hundred years ago, and that romance is the _Parzival_\nof Wolfram von Eschenbach.\n\nSome words as to the form of the original poem, and the method\nfollowed in translation, may be of interest to the reader. The\noriginal _Parzival_ is a poem of some 25,000 lines, written in an\nirregular metre, every two lines rhyming, _reim-paar_. Among modern\nGerman translators considerable difference of opinion as to the\nbest method of rendering the original appears to exist. Simrock has\nretained the original form, and adheres very closely to the text; his\nversion certainly gives the most accurate idea of Wolfram's style;\nSan Marte has allowed himself considerable freedom in versification,\nand, unfortunately, also in translation; in fact, he too often gives\na paraphrase rather than a reproduction of the text. Dr. B\u00f6tticher's\ntranslation omits the Gawain episodes, and, though close to the\noriginal, has discarded rhyme. It must be admitted that Wolfram is\nby no means easy to translate, his style is obscure and crabbed, and\nit is often difficult to interpret his meanings with any certainty.\nThe translator felt that the two points chiefly to be aimed at in an\nEnglish version were, that it should be faithful to the original text,\nand easy to read. The metre selected was chosen for several reasons,\nprincipally on account of the length of the poem, which seemed to\nrender desirable a more flowing measure than the short lines of the\noriginal; and because by selecting this metre it was possible to\nretain the original form of _reim-paar_. As a general rule one line\nof the English version represents two of the German poem, but the\ndifference of language has occasionally demanded expansion in order to\ndo full justice to the poet's meaning. Throughout, the translator's\naim has been to be as literal as possible, and where the differing\nconventionalities of the thirteenth and nineteenth centuries have made\na change in the form of expression necessary, the _meaning_ of the poet\nhas been reproduced, and in no instance has a different _idea_ been\nconsciously suggested. That there must of necessity be many faults and\ndefects in the work the writer is fully conscious, but in the absence\nof any previous English translation she can only hope that the present\nmay be accepted as a not altogether inadequate rendering of a great\noriginal; if it should encourage others to study that original for\nthemselves, and learn to know Wolfram von Eschenbach, while at the same\ntime they learn better to understand Richard Wagner, she will feel\nherself fully repaid.\n\n * * * * *\n\nThe translator feels that it may be well to mention here the works\nwhich have been principally relied on in preparing the English\ntranslation and the writers to whom she is mostly indebted.\n\nFor the Text Bartsch's edition of the original _Parzival_, published\nin _Deutsche Classiker des Mittelalters_, has been used throughout, in\nconnection with the modern German translation by Simrock.\n\nIn preparing the Notes use has been made of Dr. B\u00f6tticher's\nIntroduction to his translation of the _Parzival_, and the same\nwriter's _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_; San Marte's translation has\nalso been occasionally referred to.\n\nThe Appendix on proper names has been mainly drawn up from Bartsch's\narticle on the subject in _Germanistische Studien_; and that on the\nAngevin allusions from Miss Norgate's _England under the Angevin\nKings_, though the statements have been verified by reference to the\noriginal chronicles.\n\nFor all questions connected with the Perceval legend in its varying\nforms the authority consulted has been _Studies on the Legend of the\nHoly Grail_, by Mr. Alfred Nutt, to whom, personally, the translator is\nindebted for much valuable advice and assistance in preparing this book\nfor publication.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK I\n\nGAMURET\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\n In the Introduction the poet tells of the evil of doubt and\n unsteadfastness--against which he would warn both men and\n women; he will tell them a tale which shall speak of truth and\n steadfastness, and in which many strange marvels shall befall.\n\n Book I. tells how Gamuret of Anjou at the death of his father,\n King Gandein, refused to become his brother's vassal, and went\n forth to seek fame and love-guerdon for himself. How he fought\n under the Baruch before Alexandria, and came to Patelamunt.\n How Queen Belakan\u00e9 was accused of having caused the death of\n her lover Eisenhart, and was besieged by two armies, which\n Friedebrand, King of Scotland, Eisenhart's uncle, had brought\n against her. How Gamuret defeated her foemen, and married the\n Queen, and became King of Assagog and Zassamank. How he grew\n weary for lack of knightly deeds, and sailed away in secret\n from Queen Belakan\u00e9, and left her a letter telling of his\n name and race. How Feirifis was born, and how Gamuret came to\n Seville.\n\n BOOK I\n\n GAMURET\n\n If unfaith in the heart find dwelling, then the soul it shall\n reap but woe;\n And shaming alike and honour are his who such doubt shall\n show,\n For it standeth in evil contrast with a true man's dauntless\n might,\n As one seeth the magpie's plumage, which at one while is\n black and white.\n And yet he may win to blessing; since I wot well that in his\n heart, 5\n Hell's darkness, and light of Heaven, alike have their lot\n and part\n But he who is false and unsteadfast, he is black as the\n darkest night,\n And the soul that hath never wavered stainless _its_ hue and\n white!\n\n This my parable so fleeting too swift for the dull shall be,\n Ere yet they may seize its meaning from before their face\n 'twill flee, 10\n As a hare that a sound hath startled: yea, metal behind the\n glass,\n And a blind man's dream yield visions that as swift from the\n eye do pass,\n For naught shall they have that endureth! And at one while\n 'tis bright and sad,\n And know of a truth that its glory but for short space shall\n make ye glad.\n And what man shall think to grip me, where no hair for his\n grasp shall grow, 15\n In the palm of mine hand? The mystery of a close clasp he\n sure doth know!\n\n If I cry aloud in such peril, it 'seemeth my wisdom well.\n Shall I look for truth where it fleeteth? In the fire that\n the stream doth quell,\n Or the dew that the sun doth banish? Ne'er knew I a man so\n wise,\n But was fain to learn the wisdom my fable doth ill disguise, 20\n And the teaching that springeth from it: for so shall he\n ne'er delay\n To fly and to chase as shall fit him, to shun and to seek\n alway,\n And to give fitting blame and honour. He who knoweth the\n twain to tell,\n In their changing ways, then wisdom has tutored that man\n right well.\n And he sits not o'er-long at leisure, nor his goal doth he\n overreach, 25\n But in wisdom his ways discerning, he dealeth with all and\n each.\n But his comrade, of heart unfaithful, in hell-fire shall his\n portion be,\n Yea, a hailstorm that dims the glory of a knightly fame is\n he.\n As a short tail it is, his honour, that but for two bites\n holds good,\n When the steer by the gad-fly driven doth roam thro' the\n lonely wood. 30\n\n And tho' manifold be my counsel not to _men_ alone I'ld\n speak,\n For fain would I show to women the goal that their heart\n should seek.\n And they who shall mark my counsel, they shall learn where\n they may bestow\n Their praise and their maiden honour; and the manner of man\n shall know\n Whom they freely may love and honour, and never may fear to\n rue 35\n Their maidenhood, and the true love they gave him of heart so\n true.\n In God's sight I pray all good women to keep them in wisdom's\n way,\n For true shame on all sides doth guard them: such bliss I for\n them would pray.\n But the false heart shall win false honour--How long doth the\n thin ice last,\n If the sun shineth hot as in August? So their praise shall be\n soon o'erpast. 40\n\n Many women are praised for beauty; if at heart they shall be\n untrue,\n Then I praise them as I would praise it, the glass of a\n sapphire hue\n That in gold shall be set as a jewel! Tho' I hold it an evil\n thing,\n If a man take a costly ruby, with the virtue the stone doth\n bring,\n And set it in worthless setting: I would liken such costly\n stone 45\n To the heart of a faithful woman, who true womanhood doth\n own.\n I would look not upon her colour, nor the heart's roof all\n men can see,\n If the heart beateth true beneath it, true praise shall she\n win from me!\n\n Should I speak of both man and woman as I know, nor my skill\n should fail,\n O'er-long would it be my story. List ye now to my\n wonder-tale: 50\n And this venture it telleth tidings of love, and anon of woe,\n Joy and sorrow it bringeth with it. 'Stead of _one_ man if\n _three_ ye know,\n And each one of the three hath wisdom and skill that outweigh\n my skill,\n Yet o'erstrange shall they find the labour, tho' they toil\n with a right good-will\n To tell ye this tale, which I think me to tell ye myself,\n alone, 55\n And worn with their task and weary would they be ere the work\n was done.\n\n A tale I anew will tell ye, that speaks of a mighty love;\n Of the womanhood of true women; how a man did his manhood\n prove;\n Of one that endured all hardness, whose heart never failed in\n fight,\n Steel he in the face of conflict: with victorious hand of\n might 60\n Did he win him fair meed of honour; a brave man yet slowly\n wise\n Is he whom I hail my hero! The delight he of woman's eyes,\n Yet of woman's heart the sorrow! 'Gainst all evil his face he\n set;\n Yet he whom I thus have chosen my song knoweth not as yet,\n For not yet is he born of whom men this wondrous tale shall\n tell, 65\n And many and great the marvels that unto this knight befell.\n\n NOW they do to-day as of old time, where a foreign law holds\n sway\n (Yea, in part of our German kingdom, as ye oft shall have\n heard men say),\n Whoever might rule that country, 'twas the law, and none\n thought it shame\n ('Tis the truth and no lie I tell ye) that the elder son\n might claim 70\n The whole of his father's heirdom--And the younger sons must\n grieve,\n What was theirs in their father's lifetime, they perforce at\n his death must leave.\n Before, all was theirs in common, now it fell unto one alone.\n So a wise man planned in his wisdom, that the eldest the\n lands should own,\n For youth it hath many a fair gift, but old age knoweth grief\n and pain, 75\n And he who is poor in his old age an ill harvest alone doth\n gain.\n Kings, Counts, Dukes (and no lie I tell ye) the law holdeth\n all as one,\n And no man of them all may inherit, save only the eldest son,\n And methinks 'tis an evil custom--So the knight in his\n youthful pride,\n Gamuret, the gallant hero, lost his Burg, and his fair lands\n wide, 80\n Where his father had ruled with sceptre and crown as a mighty\n king,\n Till knighthood, and lust of battle, to his death did the\n monarch bring.\n\n And all men were sore for his sorrow, who truth and unbroken\n faith\n Bare ever throughout his lifetime, yea even unto his death.\n Then the elder son he summoned the princes from out his land, 85\n And knightly they came, who rightly might claim from their\n monarch's hand,\n To hold, as of yore, their fiefdoms. So came they unto his\n hall,\n And the claim of each man he hearkened, and gave fiefs unto\n each and all.\n\n Now hear how they dealt--As their true heart it bade them,\n both great and small,\n They made to their king petition, with one voice from the\n people all, 90\n That to Gamuret grace and favour he would show with true\n brother's hand,\n And honour himself in the doing. That he drive him not from\n the land\n But give him, within his kingdom, a fair Burg that all men\n might see,\n That he take from that Burg his title, and he held of all\n tribute free!--\n Nor the king was ill-pleased at their pleading, and he quoth,\n 'A small grace, I trow, 95\n Have ye asked, I would e'en be better than your prayer, as ye\n straight shall know,\n Why name ye not this my brother as Gamuret Angevin?\n Since Anjou is my land, I think me the title we _both_ may\n win!'\n\n Then further he spake, the monarch, 'My brother in sooth may\n seek\n Yet more from my hand of favour than my mouth may as swiftly\n speak, 100\n With me shall he have his dwelling--I would that ye all\n should see\n How one mother alike hath borne us; his riches but small\n shall be,\n While I have enough; of free hand would I give him both lands\n and gold,\n That my bliss may be ne'er held forfeit by Him, Who can aye\n withhold,\n Or give, as He deemeth rightful!' Then the princes they heard\n alway, 105\n How the king would deal well with his brother, and they\n deemed it a joyful day!\n\n And each one bowed him low before him. Nor Gamuret long\n delayed,\n But he spake as his heart would bid him, and friendly the\n words he said:\n 'Now hearken, my lord and brother, if vassal I think to be\n To thee, or to any other, then a fair lot awaiteth me. 110\n But think thou upon mine honour, for faithful art thou and\n wise,\n And give counsel as shall beseem thee, and help as thou shalt\n devise.\n For naught have I now save mine armour, if within it I more\n had done,\n Then far lands should speak my praises, and remembrance from\n men were won!'\n Then further he spake, the hero: 'Full sixteen my squires\n shall be, 115\n And six of them shall bear harness; four pages give thou to\n me\n Of noble birth and breeding, and nothing to them I'll spare\n Of all that my hand may win them. Afar in the world I'ld\n fare,\n (Somewhat I ere now have journeyed,) if Good Fortune on me\n shall smile,\n I may win from fair women favour. If a woman I serve awhile, 120\n And to serve her she hold me worthy, and my heart speaketh\n not amiss,\n True knight shall I be and faithful! God show me the way of\n bliss!\n As comrades we rode together (but then o'er thy land did\n reign\n The King Gandein, our father), and sorrow and bitter pain\n We bare for Love's sake! At one while I knew thee as _thief_\n and _knight_, 125\n Thou couldst serve, and thou couldst dissemble, for the sake\n of thy lady bright.\n Ah! could I steal love as thou couldst, if my skill were but\n like to thine,\n That women should show me favour, then a blissful lot were\n mine!'\n\n 'Alas! that I ever saw thee,' spake, sighing, the king so\n true,\n 'Who lightly, with words of mocking, my heart would in pieces\n hew 130\n And would fain that we part asunder! One father hath left us\n both\n A mighty store of riches, I would share with thee, nothing\n loth.\n Right dear from my heart I hold thee; red gold and jewels\n bright,\n Folk, weapons, horse, and raiment, take thou as shall seem\n thee right,\n That thou at thy will mayst journey, and thy free hand to all\n be known. 135\n Elect do we deem thy manhood, didst thou Gylstram as\n birthplace own,\n Or thou camest here from Rankulat, yet still would that place\n be thine,\n Which thou boldest to-day in my favour; true brother art thou\n of mine!'\n\n 'Sir King, thou of need must praise me, so great is thy\n courtesy!\n So, courteous, thine aid be given, if thou and my mother free 140\n Will share with me now your riches, I mount upward, nor fear\n to fall,\n And my heart ever beateth higher--Yet I know not how I should\n call\n This life, which my left breast swelleth! Ah! whither wouldst\n go mine heart?\n I would fain know where thou shalt guide me--'Tis time that\n we twain should part.'\n\n And all did the monarch give him, yea, more than the knight\n might crave, 145\n Five chargers, picked and chosen, the best in his land he\n gave\n High-couraged, swift to battle; and many a cup of gold,\n And many a golden nugget, for naught would his hand withhold.\n Four chests for the road he gave him, with many a jewel rare\n Were they filled. Then the squires he took him who should for\n the treasure care, 150\n And well were they clad and mounted; and none might his grief\n withhold\n When the knight gat him unto his mother, who her son in her\n arms did fold.\n\n Spake the woman, as woman grieving: 'Wilt thou tarry with me\n no more,\n King Gandein's son? Woe is me! yet my womb this burden bore\n And the son of my husband art thou. Is the eye of God waxed\n blind, 155\n Or His ear grown deaf in the hearing, that my prayer doth no\n credence find?\n Is fresh sorrow to be my portion? I have buried my heart's\n desire,\n And the light of mine eyes; will He rob me, who have suffered\n a grief so dire,\n Who judgeth with righteous judgment? Then the tale it hath\n told a lie,\n That spake of His help so mighty, Who doth help unto me\n deny!' 160\n\n 'God comfort thee,' quoth the hero, 'for the death of my\n father dear,\n For truly we both must mourn him--But I think from no lips to\n hear\n Such wailing for my departing! As valour shall show the way,\n I seek knighthood in distant countries--So it standeth with\n me to-day.'\n\n Quoth the queen, 'Since to high love's service thou turnest\n both hand and heart, 165\n Sweet son, let it not displease thee to take of my wealth a\n part\n That may serve thee upon thy journey; let thy chamberlain\n take from me\n Four chests, each a pack-horse burden, and heavy their weight\n shall be.\n And within, uncut, there lieth rich silk of Orient rare,\n No man as yet hath cut it, and many a samite fair. 170\n Sweet son, I prithee tell me what time thou wilt come again,\n That my joy may wax the greater, and I look for thee not in\n vain!'\n\n 'Nay, that I know not, Lady, nor the land that shall see my\n face,\n But wherever I take my journey, thou hast shown unto me such\n grace\n As befitteth knightly honour: and the king he hath dealt with\n me 175\n In such wise that grateful service his rewarding shall ever\n be.\n And this trust have I, O Lady, that for this thou wilt love\n him more\n Henceforward, whate'er the future yet keepeth for me in\n store.'\n And as the venture telleth, to the hand of this dauntless\n knight,\n Thro' the favour he won from a woman, and the working of true\n love's might, 180\n Came a token fair, and its value was full thousand marks, I\n trow,\n E'en to-day an a Jew were craving a pledge, he would deem\n enow\n Such jewel, and ne'er disdain it--'Twas sent by his lady\n true,\n And fame did he win in her service, and her love and her\n greeting knew,\n Yet seldom his pain found easing--Then the hero he took his\n leave 185\n Of mother, brother, and brother's kingdom, and many I ween\n must grieve\n Since his eyes never more beheld them. And all who his\n friends had been,\n Ere he passed from the land of his fathers, tho' the grace\n were but small, I ween,\n He gave them of thanks full measure; he deemed they too much\n had done,\n And, courteous, little thought him, that of right he their\n love had won! 190\n Straighter his heart than straightness; did one of his\n praises speak\n In a full and fitting measure, then doubt were not far to\n seek,\n But ask ye of those his neighbours, or of men who in distant\n lands\n Had seen his deeds, then the marvel ye were swifter to\n understand.\n\n And Gamuret he trode ever where Temperance aye should guide, 195\n And naught else might rule his doings, nor he boasted him in\n his pride\n But bare great honour meekly; from loose ways he e'er had\n flown;\n And he thought him, the gallant hero, that none bare on earth\n a crown,\n Were they King, or Queen, or Kaiser, whom he deemed of his\n service worth\n Were they not the mightiest reckoned of all monarchs that be\n on earth. 200\n This will in his heart he cherished--Then men spake, at\n Bagdad did reign\n A monarch so strong and powerful, that homage he well might\n claim\n From two-thirds or more of earth's kingdoms. The heathen his\n name held great,\n And they spake of him as the Baruch, and kings did on his\n bidding wait,\n And crown\u00e8d heads were his servants; and his office it lasts\n to-day-- 205\n See how Christian men baptiz\u00e8d to Rome wend their pilgrim\n way,\n So there was the heathen custom. At Bagdad was their papal\n right,\n And the Baruch as 'seemed his office purged their sins with\n his word of might.\n\n From Pompey and Ipomidon, two brothers of Babylon,\n Nineveh, the town of their fathers, the Baruch with force had\n won, 210\n And bravely 'gainst him they battled. Then came the young\n Angevin,\n And the Baruch he showed him favour, yea, he did to his\n service win\n Gamuret the gallant hero--And he deemed it were well he bore\n Other arms than Gandein his father had given to him of yore.\n Then the hero he well bethought him; on his charger's cloth\n they laid 215\n An anchor of ermine fashioned, and the same at his will they\n made\n For shield alike and vesture--And green as the emerald rare\n Was his riding-gear, and 'twas fashioned and wrought of\n Achmardi fair,\n ('Tis a silken stuff,) and he bade them to make of it at his\n will\n Both blazoned coat and surcoat, (than velvet 'tis richer\n still;) 220\n And he bade them to sew upon it the anchor of ermine white,\n And with golden threads inwoven was the badge of this gallant\n knight.\n\n And his anchors they never tested or mainland or haven fair\n And found in that place abiding--But the hero must further\n bear\n Thro' many a land, a brave guest, the load of this heraldry, 225\n And behind the sign of this anchor but short space might his\n resting be,\n And nowhere he found abiding--The tale of the lands he saw,\n And the vessels in which he sailed him? If the truth unto ye\n I swore,\n On mine own oath must I swear it, and my knightly honour true\n In such wise as the venture told me; other witness I never\n knew! 230\n\n And men say that his manly courage held the prize in far\n heathendom,\n In Morocco's land, and in Persia, and elsewhere he high\n honour won,\n At Damascus and at Aleppo, and where knightly deeds should\n be:\n In Arabia and lands around it was he held of all conflict\n free,\n For no man might dare withstand him, he won him such crown of\n fame; 235\n And his heart for honour lusted, and all deeds were brought\n to shame,\n And became as naught before him, as all men bare witness true\n Who a joust with him had ridden, and Bagdad of his glory\n knew.\n\n And his heart never failed or faltered, but onward his course\n he bare\n To Zassamank's land and kingdom; there all men wept that hero\n fair, 240\n Eisenhart, who in knightly service gave his life for a\n woman's smile;\n Belakan\u00e9 thereto constrained him, sweet maid she, and free\n from guile.\n (Since her love she never gave him, for love's sake did the\n hero die,)\n And his kinsmen would fain avenge him, and with force and\n with subtlety\n Their armies beset the maiden, but in sooth she could guard\n her well 245\n Ere Gamuret came to her kingdom, and her wrath on her foemen\n fell.\n For the Prince Friedebrand of Scotland, and his host that\n against her came\n By ship, ere he left her kingdom had she wasted with fire and\n flame.\n\n Now hear what befell our hero; storm-driven he was that day,\n And scarce might he win to safety, and his boat in the haven\n lay 250\n Beneath the royal palace; and the folk they beheld him there,\n And he looked around on the meadow, and he saw many tents\n stand fair\n Around the town, save the sea-coast, and two armies he\n thought to see.\n Then he bade them to tell the story, and whose that fair Burg\n should be?\n Since he knew it not, nor his shipmen--And an answer they\n straightway gave, 255\n 'Twas Patelamunt; then the townsfolk a boon from the knight\n would crave,\n And their speech it was soft and friendly--In the name of\n their gods they'ld pray\n He should help them, so great their peril that in danger of\n death they lay.\n\n When the young Angevin had hearkened to the tale of their\n bitter pain,\n He proffered to them his service for such payment as knight\n may gain, 260\n (As it oft shall befit a hero)--They should say for what\n goodly prize\n He should dare the hate of their foemen? And they answered\n him in this wise\n With one mouth the hale and the wounded--Naught would they\n from him withhold,\n But lord should he be of their treasure, of their jewels\n alike and gold,\n A fair life should he lead among them!--But such payment he\n little sought, 265\n For many a golden nugget from Araby had he brought.\n And dark as night were the people who in Zassamank dwelt\n alway--\n And the time it seemed long unto him that he need in their\n midst must stay--\n But he bade them prepare a lodging, and methinks it became\n them well\n The best of their land to give him, since awhile he with them\n would dwell. 270\n And the women they looked from the windows, and they gazed on\n the noble knight,\n And they looked on his squires, and his harness, how 'twas\n fashioned for deeds of might.\n Then they saw how the knight, free-handed, on his shield of\n ermine bare\n Full many a pelt of sable; the Queen's Marshal he read it\n fair,\n The badge, for a mighty anchor, and little he rued the sight, 275\n If his eye spake the truth unto him ere this had he seen the\n knight,\n Or one who bare his semblance--At Alexandria it needs must\n be,\n When the Baruch besieged the city--and unequalled in strife\n was he!\n\n So rode the gallant hero, in stately guise and meet;\n Ten pack-horses heavy-laden they led first adown the street, 280\n And twenty squires behind them; and his people they went\n before,\n And lackeys, cooks, and cook-boys, at the head of the train\n they saw.\n And stately I ween his household, twelve pages of lineage\n high\n Rode next to the squires, well-mannered, and trained in all\n courtesy,\n And Saracens were among them; and behind them in order fair 285\n Came chargers eight, and a covering of sendal did each one\n bear.\n But the ninth it bore a saddle, and the shield ye have known\n ere now\n Was borne by a squire beside it, and joyful his mien, I trow.\n And trumpeters rode behind it, for in sooth they must needs\n be there,\n And a drummer he smote his tambour, and swung it aloft in\n air. 290\n And as naught had the hero deemed it, this pomp, if there\n failed to ride\n Men who on the flute were skilful, and three fiddlers were at\n their side,\n And they hasted not nor hurried; and behind them the hero\n came,\n And his shipman he rode beside him, a wise man of goodly\n fame.\n\n And much folk was within the city, and Moors were both man\n and maid. 295\n Then the hero he looked around him, and, lo! many a shield\n displayed,\n Battle-hewn and with spear-thrust pierc\u00e8d they hung on each\n wall and door.\n And wailing and woe was their portion; for the knight at each\n window saw\n Many men lie sorely wounded, who to breathe the air were\n fain,\n And e'en tho' a leech might tend them no help might they\n think to gain 300\n Who were hurt too sore for healing--In the field had they\n faced the foe,\n And such shall be their rewarding who in conflict no flight\n will know--\n Many horses were led towards him, sword-hewn and with lance\n thrust through;\n And on each side stood dusky maidens, and black as the night\n their hue.\n\n Then his host gave him kindly greeting--and of joy did he\n reap his meed-- 305\n A rich man was he and mighty, and many a knightly deed\n With thrust and blow had his hand wrought when his post at\n the gate he found;\n And many a knight was with him, and bandaged their heads and\n bound,\n And their hands in slings were holden; yet tho' sorely\n wounded still\n They did many deeds of knighthood, nor were lacking in\n strength and skill. 310\n\n Then the Burg-grave of the city, with fair words did he pray\n his guest\n To deal with him and his household in such wise as should\n seem him best.\n And the host, he led the hero to his wife, and courteously\n Did Gamuret kiss the lady, small joy in the kiss had he!\n Then they sat them down to the table, and e'en as the feast\n was o'er, 315\n The Marshal he gat him swiftly to the queen, and the tidings\n bore,\n And craved from her goodly payment, as to messenger shall be\n due.\n And he spake, 'It shall end in gladness, the grief that\n erewhile we knew,\n We have welcomed here, O Lady, a knight of such gallant mien,\n We must thank the gods who have sent him, for our need they\n have surely seen.' 320\n\n 'Now tell me upon thine honour who this gallant knight may\n be?'\n 'Lady, a dauntless hero, and the Baruch's man is he,\n An Angevin he, of high lineage; Ah me! little did he spare\n Himself, when his foemen seeking he forth to the field would\n fare.\n How wisely, with skill and cunning, he avoided the\n threatening blow, 325\n And turned him again to the onslaught! Much sorrow he wrought\n his foe--\n Ere this have I seen him battle, when the princes of Babylon\n Their city of Alexandria had fain from the Baruch won,\n And with force from its walls would drive him, and many a man\n lay dead\n In the overthrow of their army, for their venture was but\n ill-sped. 330\n And such deeds did he do, this hero, that no counsel was\n theirs but flight:\n And there did I hear his praises, for all spake of this\n gallant knight\n As one who, without denial, had won him, in many a land,\n The crown of true knightly honour, by the strength of his own\n right hand.\n\n 'Now fain would I speak with the hero, see thou to the time\n and way; 335\n E'en now might he ride to the castle, for peace shall be kept\n to-day.\n Were it better that I should seek him? He is other than we in\n face,\n Pray Heaven it not displease him, but our need with the\n knight find grace!\n I would that I first might know this, ere the rede from my\n folk I hear\n That I show to this stranger honour--If it pleaseth him to\n draw near, 340\n Say, how shall I best receive him? Shall the knight be so\n nobly born\n That my kiss be not lost, if I kiss him?' 'Nay, hold me of\n life forsworn\n If he be not of kings the kinsman! Lady, this word I'll bear\n To thy princes, that they shall clothe them in raiment both\n fit and fair,\n And stand before thee, in due order, ere yet to thy court we\n ride, 345\n And the same shalt thou say to thy ladies--In the city he\n doth abide;\n I will ride below, and will bring him to thy palace, a worthy\n guest,\n For no fair or knightly virtue shall be lacking that noble\n breast.'\n\n But little space they delayed them, for the Marshal, with\n ready skill,\n Strove that all in such wise be ordered as should pleasure\n his lady's will. 350\n But soon did they bear to the hero rich garments, he did them\n on,\n And this hath the venture told me that their cost should be\n hardly won;\n And thereon lay the anchors, heavy, and wrought of Arabian\n gold,\n For so had he willed. Then the hero, who fair payment for\n love had told\n A charger bestrode that 'fore Babylon a knight rode, for\n jousting fain, 355\n From the saddle did Gamuret smite him, and I wot it hath\n wrought him pain.\n\n If his host thought to ride beside him? He and his gallant\n knights?\n Yea, in sooth they would do so, gladly--So wended they up the\n height,\n And dismounted before the palace; and many a knight stood\n there,\n And each, as was fit, had clothed him in raiment both rich\n and fair. 360\n And his pages they ran before him, and each twain they went\n hand in hand,\n And in marvellous fair arraying he saw many ladies stand.\n And the queen, her eyes brought her sorrow as she looked on\n the Angevin,\n So lovely was he to look on that he needs must an entrance\n win\n Thro' the gates of her heart, if 'twere anguish or joy that\n within he bore, 365\n Tho' her womanhood 'gainst all comers had held them fast\n closed before.\n\n Then a space did she step towards him, and a kiss from her\n guest she prayed;\n And, herself, by the hand she took him and they sat them,\n both man and maid\n In a window wide, that looked forth from the palace upon the\n foe,\n And a covering of wadded samite was spread o'er the couch\n below. 370\n Is there aught that than day is lighter? Then it likeneth not\n the queen!\n Yet else was she fair to look on, as a woman should be, I\n ween,\n But unlike to the dew-dipped roses was her colour, yea, black\n as night.\n And her crown was a costly ruby, and thro' it ye saw aright\n Her raven head. Then as hostess she spake to her guest this\n word, 375\n That greatly she joyed at his coming, 'Sir, Knight, I such\n tale have heard\n Of thy knightly strength and prowess--Of thy courtesy, hear\n me fair,\n For fain would I tell of my sorrow, and the woe that my heart\n doth bear!'\n\n 'My help shall not fail thee, Lady! What hath grieved, or\n doth grieve thee now,\n I think me aside to turn it, to thy service my hand I vow! 380\n I am naught but one man only--Who hath wronged or now\n wrongeth thee\n My shield will I hold against him--Little wroth shall thy\n foeman be!'\n\n Then a prince he spake out courteous, 'The foe would we\n little spare,\n Did our host not lack a captain, since Friedebrand hence must\n fare.\n He defendeth afar his kingdom--A king, one Hernant by name 385\n (Whom he slew for the sake of Herlind\u00e8) his kinsmen against\n him came,\n And evil enow have they wrought him, nor yet from their\n strife forbear--\n Yet he left here full many a hero, and among them, Duke\n Heuteger\n With his gallant deeds of knighthood, and his army, hath\n pressed us sore,\n They have skill and strength for the conflict. And many a\n soldier more 390\n With Gaschier of Normandy came here, and a hero wise is he.\n Many knights hath he brought to this country (and wrathful\n guests they be):\n Kailet of Hoscurast. All these hath he brought upon our fair\n land\n With his comrades four, and his soldiers, the Scottish king\n Friedebrand!\n And there, to the West, by the sea-coast doth Eisenhart's\n army lie, 395\n And their eyes shall be fain for weeping; nor in secret, nor\n openly\n Hath one seen them, and failed to marvel at their grief and\n their sorrow sore,\n Since their lord hath been slain in battle with the heart's\n rain their eyes run o'er.'\n\n Then the guest courteous spake to his hostess, 'I would, an\n it seem thee right,\n Thou shouldst say why thy foeman threaten, why they seek thee\n with war-like might! 400\n Thou hast here many gallant heroes, it grieveth me sore to\n see\n Thy land thus with hate o'erladen, for woe must it bring to\n thee.'\n\n 'Wouldst thou know? Then, Sir Knight, I will tell thee--A\n knight did me service true,\n And the fruit of all manly virtue his life as its decking\n knew,\n And gallant and wise was the hero, and his faith as a goodly\n tree 405\n Was fast-rooted, and none so courteous but were shamed by his\n courtesy.\n And modest was he as a woman, tho' dauntless and strong, I\n trow,\n And a knight e'en as he free-handed ere his day never land\n might know.\n (But they that shall come hereafter, other folk shall their\n doings see.)\n A fool was he in false dealing, and a Moor, as myself shall\n be; 410\n And his father's name was T\u00e1nkaneis, a king of a kingly\n heart,\n And his son, he who was my lover, men knew him as Eisenhart.\n That for love's sake I took his service, as a woman I did not\n well,\n It hath brought me but lasting sorrow since no joy to his\n portion fell,\n They deem I to death betrayed him! Yet such treason were far\n from me, 415\n Tho' his folk bring such charge against me; and dear to my\n heart was he,\n Far dearer than _they_ e'er held him. Nor witnesses here\n shall fail\n To speak to the truth of my saying, if it please them to tell\n the tale.\n His gods and mine, they know it, the truth--I must sorrow\n deep\n Since my womanly shame hath brought him a guerdon I needs\n must weep! 420\n\n 'Thus he won in my maiden service much honour by knighthood\n fair,\n I thought thus to prove my lover; his deeds did his worth\n declare.\n For my sake he put off his harness (that which like to a hall\n doth stand\n Is a lofty tent, the Scotch folk they brought it into this\n land),\n Then e'en tho' he bare no armour his body he little spared, 425\n For he held his life as worthless, many ventures unarmed he\n dared.\n As the matter so stood between us, a prince who my man should\n be,\n Prothizilas did men call him, a bold knight, from all\n cowardice free,\n Rode forth in search of venture, and evil for him that day\n For there, in Assagog's forest, his death in waiting lay. 430\n In a knightly joust he met it, and there too he found his end\n The gallant knight who faced him--'Twas Prince Eisenhart my\n friend.\n For both of the twain were pierc\u00e8d with a spear thro' heart\n and shield,\n And I, alas! poor woman, must weep for that fatal field.\n And ever their death doth grieve me, and sorrow from love\n shall grow, 435\n And never henceforth as my husband a man do I think to know.'\n\n Then e'en tho' she was a heathen Gamuret he bethought him\n well,\n That a heart more true and tender ne'er in woman's breast\n might dwell.\n Her purity was her baptism, and as water that washed her o'er\n Was the rain that streamed from her eyelids o'er her breast,\n and the robe she wore; 440\n All her joy did she find in sorrow, and grief o'er her life\n did reign--\n Then the queen she looked on the hero, and in this wise she\n spake again:\n\n 'With his army the king of Scotland hath sought me across the\n sea,\n For the knight was son to his uncle; yet no ill can he do to\n me,\n If here the truth be spoken, that is worse than the grief I\n knew 445\n For Eisenhart's death!' and sorely she sighed that lady true;\n And many a glance thro' her tear-drops on Gamuret shyly fell,\n And her eyes to her heart gave counsel, and his beauty it\n pleased her well,\n (And she knew how to judge a fair face, since fair heathen\n she oft had seen,)\n And the root of true love and longing it sprang up the twain\n between. 450\n She looked upon him, and his glances, they answering sought\n her own--\n Then she bade them to fill the wine-cup, had she dared, it\n were left undone,\n And she grieved she might not delay it, since to many a hero\n brave\n Who spake with the maids this wine-cup the signal of parting\n gave.\n Yet her body was e'en as his body, and his look did such\n courage give 455\n To the maid, that she thought henceforward in the life of the\n knight to live.\n\n Then he stood upright, and he spake thus, 'Lady, I weary\n thee,\n Too long methinks do I sit here, I were lacking in courtesy!\n As befitting true knight and servant I mourn for thy woe so\n great,\n Lady, do thou command me, I will on thy bidding wait. 460\n Wherever thou wilt, there I wend me. I will serve thee in all\n I may!'\n And the lady she quoth in answer, 'I believe thee, Sir\n Knight, alway!'\n\n Then his kindly host the Burg-grave, of his labour would\n nothing spare\n Lest the hours of his stay be heavy; and he asked if he forth\n would fare,\n And ride round the walls of the city? 'The battle-field shalt\n thou see, 465\n And how we would guard our portals!' then Gamuret courteously\n Made answer, he fain would see it, the field where they late\n had fought,\n And the place where brave deeds of knighthood had by gallant\n hands been wrought.\n\n And noble knights rode with him adown from the palace hall,\n Some were wise, some were young and foolish,--So rode they\n around the wall 470\n To sixteen gates, and they told him not one of them might\n they close\n Since Eisenhart's death called for vengeance--'So wrathful\n shall be our foes\n Our conflict it resteth never, but we fight both by night and\n day,\n Nor our portals since then we fasten, but open they stand\n alway.\n At eight of our gates they beset us, true Eisenhart's gallant\n knights, 475\n And evil shall they have wrought us; spurred by anger each\n man doth fight,\n The princes of lofty lineage, the king of Assagog's ban!'\n And there floated before each portal a banner, so pale and\n wan,\n With a pierc\u00e8d knight upon it. When Eisenhart lost his life\n His folk chose to them this symbol, as badge in the coming\n strife. 480\n 'But against these arms have we others, wherewith we their\n grief would still,\n And thus shalt thou know our banner; 'twas wrought at our\n lady's will,\n Two fingers in oath she stretcheth, that never such grief she\n knew\n As Eisenhart's death hath brought her (true sorrow for heart\n so true),\n And so doth it stand the semblance of our queen, on a samite\n white 485\n Belakan\u00e9 in sable fashioned,--Since against us they came in\n might,\n (To avenge him for whom she sorrows) so she looks from our\n portals high.\n And proud Friedebrand's mighty army doth to eight of our\n gates stand nigh,\n Baptized men, from o'er the waters. A prince doth each portal\n hold,\n And forth from the gate he sallies, with his banners and\n warriors bold.' 490\n\n 'From the host of Gaschier the Norman, a count have we\n captive ta'en,\n And heavy methinks the ransom we may hope from that knight to\n gain;\n He is sister's son to Kailet, and the harm _he_ to us hath\n done\n His nephew I ween shall pay for! Yet such prize have we\n seldom won.\n Here have we no grassy meadow, but sand, thirty gallops wide 495\n Betwixt the tents and the trenches; here many a joust we\n ride.\n\n And further his host would tell him, 'One knight, he doth\n never fail\n To ride forth, a fair joust seeking. (If his service shall\n nought avail\n With her who hath sent him hither, what boots it how well he\n fight?)\n Proud Heuteger is the hero, of him may I speak with right 500\n For since our besiegers threaten there dawneth never a day\n But before the gates 'neath the castle, that knight doth his\n charger stay.\n And oft from that dauntless hero many tokens we needs must\n bear,\n That he smote through our shields at his spear-point, and\n costly their worth and rare\n When the squire from the shield doth break them. Many knights\n 'fore his joust must fall; 505\n He would that all men may behold him, and our women they\n praise him all.\n And he who is praised of women, one knoweth that he doth hold\n The prize in his hand, and his heart's joy in full measure\n shall aye be told!'\n\n But now would the sun, grown weary, its wandering rays\n recall;\n 'Twas time that the ride was ended--Then he sought with his\n host the hall, 510\n And the evening meal was ready; and I needs of that feast\n must tell,\n 'Twas laid in a fitting order, and knightly 'twas served, and\n well.\n And the queen with mien so stately she unto his table came,\n (Here stood the fish, there the heron) and she counted it not\n for shame\n To ride adown from her palace, that herself she might be\n aware 515\n If they cared for the guest as 'twas fitting, and with her\n rode her maidens fair.\n Low she knelt (and but ill it pleased him) and cut as it\n seemed her best\n For the knight a fitting portion; she was glad in her goodly\n guest.\n And she filled for him the wine-cup, and care for his needs\n would take,\n And well did he mark, the hero, her mien, and the words she\n spake. 520\n And his fiddlers sat at the table, and over against the\n knight\n Was his chaplain: with shy looks shamefast, he spake to the\n lady bright:\n\n 'I looked not to find such welcome as, Lady, thou gavest me,\n Too much must I deem the honour! If rede I might give to\n thee,\n Then to-day I had claimed naught from thee save was due to my\n worth alone, 525\n Nor adown the hill hadst thou ridden, nor such service to me\n hadst shown.\n And, Lady, if I may venture to make unto thee request,\n Let me live but as best befits me, thou dost honour o'ermuch\n thy guest!'\n\n Yet her kindly care she stayed not; for she stept to his\n page's seat\n And with gentle words and friendly she prayed them to freely\n eat, 530\n This she did her guest to honour: and the noble lads, I trow,\n Bare goodwill to the royal lady. Nor the queen methinks was\n slow\n To pass where the host was seated and his lady, the\n Burg-gravine,\n And she raised the golden goblet, and she spake as should fit\n a queen:\n 'Now unto your care I give him, our guest, and I rede ye both 535\n Since the honour is yours, to hearken, and do my will nothing\n loth!'\n And she bade them farewell, and she turned her, and passed to\n her guest once more,\n Whose heart for her sake was heavy; and such sorrow for him\n she bore,\n And her heart and her eyes they answered, and they spake to\n her sorrow yea!\n And courteous she spake, the lady, 'Sir Knight, thou the word\n shalt say, 540\n And whate'er be thy will, I will do it, for I hold thee a\n worthy guest.\n Now give me, I pray, dismissal; if here thou in peace shalt\n rest,\n Of that shall we all be joyful.' Her torch-holders were of\n gold,\n And four tapers they bare before her, so she rode to her\n fortress-hold.\n\n Nor long at the board they lingered--The hero was sad, and\n gay, 545\n He was glad for the honour done him, yet a sorrow upon him\n lay,\n And that was strong Love's compelling, that a proud heart and\n courage high\n Can bend to her will, and gladness shall oft at her bidding\n fly.\n\n Then the hostess she passed to her chamber, yea, e'en as the\n meal was o'er;\n And a couch did they spread for the hero, and love to the\n labour bore. 550\n And the host to his guest spake kindly, 'Now here shall thy\n sleep be sweet,\n Thou shalt rest thro' the night that cometh, to thy need\n shall such rest be meet.'\n Then he spake to his men, and he bade them they should hence\n from the hall away,\n And the noble youths his pages, their couches around his lay\n Each one with the head toward his master, for so was the\n custom good; 555\n And tapers so tall and flaming alight round the chamber\n stood.\n Yet ill did it please the hero that so long were the hours of\n night,\n For the Moorish queen so dusky, had vanquished his heart of\n might.\n And he turned as a willow wand bendeth, till his joints they\n were heard to crack,\n The strife and the love that he craved for he deemed he\n o'er-long did lack. 560\n And his heart-beats they echoed loudly, as it swelled high\n for knighthood fain,\n And he stretched himself as an archer who bendeth a bow\n amain.\n And so eager his lust for battle that sleepless the hero lay\n Till he saw the grey light of morning, though as yet it\n should scarce be day.\n And his chaplain for Mass was ready, and to God and the\n knight they sing, 565\n For so did he give commandment. Then he bade them his harness\n bring,\n\n And he rode where a joust should wait him, and that self-same\n hour would ride\n A horse that could charge the foeman, and turn swiftly to\n either side,\n And answer to bit and bridle if its rider would backward\n draw.\n And the watchers, both man and woman, his helm in the gateway\n saw, 570\n And the anchor shone fair upon it; and no man ere this might\n see\n So wondrous fair a hero, for like to a god was he!\n\n And strong spears they bare for his using--How then was he\n decked, the knight?\n With iron was his charger covered, as should serve for a\n shield in fight,\n And above lay another covering, nor heavy methinks it\n weighed, 575\n 'Twas a samite green; and his surcoat and blazoned coat were\n made\n Of Achmardi, green to look on, and in Araby fashioned fair,\n And no lie I tell, but the shield-thongs that the weight of\n the shield should bear\n Were of silk and gold untarnished, and jewel-bedecked their\n pride,\n And the boss of the shield was covered with red gold, in the\n furnace tried. 580\n He served but for love's rewarding; sharp conflict he held it\n light;\n And the queen she looked from her window, with many a lady\n bright.\n And see, there Heuteger held him, who the prize ne'er had\n failed to gain;\n When he saw the knight draw nearer, in swift gallop across\n the plain,\n He thought, 'Now whence came this Frenchman? Who hither this\n knight hath sent? 585\n If a _Moor_ I had thought this hero, my wit were to madness\n bent!'\n\n No whit they delayed the onslaught, from gallop to swifter\n flight\n Each man spurred amain his charger; and as fitting a valiant\n knight\n Nor one would evade the other, but would meet him in jousting\n fair,\n From brave Heuteger's spear the splinters flew high thro' the\n summer air, 590\n But his foeman so well withstood him that he thrust him from\n off his steed\n Adown on the grass; but seldom might he win for his joust\n such meed!\n And his foe in his course rode o'er him, and trode him unto\n the ground,\n Yet he sprang up again, and valiant, fresh lust for the\n strife he found,\n But Gamuret's lance had pierced him thro' the arm, and he\n bade him yield, 595\n And he knew he had found his master, and he spake from the\n foughten field,\n 'Now who shall have o'erthrown me?' and the victor he swiftly\n spake,\n 'Gamuret Angevin do men call me!' then he quoth, 'Thou my\n pledge canst take!'\n\n Then his pledge the knight took, and straightway he sent him\n within the wall,\n And much praise did he win from the women who looked from the\n castle hall. 600\n And swiftly there came towards him, Gaschier of Normandy,\n A proud and wealthy hero and mighty in strife was he.\n And Gamuret made him ready, for a second joust he'ld ride,\n And strong and new was his spear-shaft, and the iron was both\n sharp and wide,\n And the strangers they faced each other--But unequal their\n lot, I trow, 605\n For Gaschier and his gallant charger full swiftly were they\n laid low,\n And the knight with his arms and harness he fell in the shock\n of strife;\n If he thought it for good or for evil, by his pledge must he\n win his life.\n\n Then Gamuret quoth, the hero, 'Thou hast pledged unto me\n thine hand,\n Yet the weapon it well hath wielded! Ride thou to the\n Scottish band, 610\n And bid them to cease from troubling; if they to thy will are\n fain,\n Thou canst follow me to the city.' Then the knight hied him\n o'er the plain.\n If he prayed them, or gave commandment, they did at the last\n his will,\n And the Scottish host they rested, and from conflict they\n held them still.\n\n Then Kailet spurred swift towards him, but Gamuret turned his\n rein, 615\n His cousin he was, and near kinsman, why then bring him grief\n and pain?\n And the Spaniard cried loudly on him; on his helm he an\n ostrich bare,\n And so far as I know to tell ye the knight he was decked so\n fair\n With silken raiment goodly, and long were his robes and wide,\n And the plain rang clear with the chiming of sweet bells as\n he o'er it hied. 620\n The flower he of manly beauty, and his fairness it held the\n field,\n Save for two who should come hereafter, and his fame unto\n theirs must yield;\n But Parzival and brave Beaucorps, King Lot's son, they are\n not here,\n Not yet were they born, but hereafter for their beauty men\n held them dear!\n\n Then Gaschier he grasped his bridle. 'Now checked will it be\n thy race, 625\n So I tell thee upon mine honour, if the Angevin thou shalt\n face\n Who there my pledge hath taken. Sir Knight, thou shalt list\n my prayer\n And hearken unto my counsel; in Gamuret's hand I sware\n From strife aside to turn thee: stay thy steed then for my\n sake,\n For mighty is he in conflict!' Then aloud King Kailet spake, 630\n 'Is he Gamuret my cousin, and son unto King Gandein?\n Then I care not with him to battle, no foe shall he be of\n mine!\n Take thine hand from off my bridle'--'Nay, further thou shalt\n not fare\n Till mine eyes have first beheld thee, with thine head of the\n helmet bare,\n For _mine_ with blows is deafened!' Then his helmet the\n prince unbound. 635\n And yet, tho' with him he fought not, Gamuret other foemen\n found.\n\n And the day had grown to high morning--And the folk who the\n joust might see\n Were glad at heart, and they gat them to their bulwarks right\n speedily,\n For he was as a net before them, and none might escape his\n hold.\n And he chose him another charger, so the tale unto me was\n told, 640\n And it flew, and the earth it spurn\u00e8d, and its work could\n aright fulfil,\n Bold when the knight would battle, yet its speed could he\n check at will.\n And what would he do the rider? His valour I praise alway,\n For he rode where the Moorish army to the west by the\n sea-coast lay.\n\n Thence a prince, Rassalig men called him, forgat not each\n coming morn 645\n (He was Assagog's richest hero, to riches and honour born\n Since he came of a royal lineage) to take from the camp his\n way\n He would fain joust before the city--But his strength it was\n quelled that day\n By Anjou's dauntless hero; and a dusky maid made moan\n (Since 'twas she who sent him hither) that her knight should\n be thus o'erthrown. 650\n For a squire brought, without his bidding, to his master,\n brave Gamuret,\n A spear, with light reed-shaft fashioned, and its point\n 'gainst the Moor he set,\n And with it he smote the paynim from his steed down upon the\n sand,\n Nor longer he bade him lie there than as surety he pledged\n his hand.\n So the strife it had found its ending, and the hero had won\n him fame; 655\n Then Gamuret saw eight banners toward the city that onward\n came,\n And he bade the conquered hero the force with his word to\n stay,\n And follow him to the city. And that word must he needs obey.\n\n Nor Gaschier delayed his coming; and unto the Burg-grave told\n How his guest sought for further conflict nor his wrath might\n the host withhold. 660\n If he swallowed not iron as an ostrich, nor his wrath did on\n stones assuage\n 'Twas but that he might not find them! Then he gnashed his\n teeth for rage,\n And he growled as a mighty lion, and the hair of his head he\n tare,\n And he quoth, 'So the years of my lifetime a harvest of folly\n bear,\n The gods they had sent to my keeping a valiant and worthy\n friend, 665\n If with strife he shall be o'erladen, then mine honour hath\n found an end;\n Sword and shield they shall little profit--Yea, shame he\n would on me cast\n Who should bring this to my remembrance!' Then swift from his\n place he passed,\n And he gat him into the portal, and a squire towards him\n drew,\n And he bare a shield that was painted with a knight by a\n spear pierced thro', 670\n In Eisenhart's land was it fashioned; and a helmet his hand\n must hold,\n And a sword that Rassalig carried in battle, that heathen\n bold,\n But now was he parted from it whose fame was in every place;\n Were he slain unbaptized I think me, God had shown to this\n hero grace!\n\n And e'en as the Burg-grave saw it, ne'er of yore was his joy\n so great, 675\n For the coat-of-arms he knew it--So he rode thro' the city\n gate,\n And without, his guest had halted, young hero he, not yet\n old,\n As one of a joust desirous, and his bridle the Burg-grave\n bold,\n Lahfilirost was his name, he grasped it, and he led him\n within the wall;\n And I wot well no other foeman that day 'neath his spear must\n fall. 680\n\n Quoth Lahfilirost the Burg-grave, 'Sir Knight, thou shalt\n tell to me\n If thine hand Rassalig hath vanquished?' 'Then our land from\n all strife is free;\n For he of the Moors is chieftain, the men of true Eisenhart\n Who have brought unto us such sorrow--But now shall our woe\n depart,\n 'Twas a wrathful god who bade him thus seek us with all his\n host, 685\n But his weapons to naught are smitten, and to folly is turned\n his boast!'\n Then he led him in (ill it pleased him) and there met then\n the royal maid,\n And she loosened the bands of his vizor, and her hand on his\n bridle laid,\n To her care must the Burg-grave yield it: nor his squires to\n their task were slack,\n For they turned them about, and swiftly they rode on their\n master's track. 690\n So men saw the queen so gracious lead her guest thro' the\n city street\n Who here should be hailed the victor--Then she lighted her on\n her feet,\n 'Ah me! but thy squires are faithful! Fear ye lest your lord\n be lost?\n Without ye shall he be cared for; take his steed, here am I\n his host!'\n\n And above found he many a maiden: then her hands of dusky hue 695\n The queen set unto his harness, and disarmed the knight so\n true.\n And the bed-covering was of sable, and the couch it was\n spread so fair,\n And in secret a hidden honour they did for the knight\n prepare,\n For no one was there to witness--The maidens they might not\n stay,\n And the door was fast closed behind them, and Frau Minne\n might have her way. 700\n So the queen in the arms of her true love found guerdon of\n sweet delight,\n Tho' unlike were the twain in their colour, Moorish princess\n and Christian knight!\n\n Then the townsfolk brought many an offering to the gods who\n had seen their woe.\n That which Rassalig needs must promise ere he from the field\n might go\n That he did, in all truth and honour, yet heavy was he at\n heart, 705\n And afresh sprang the fount of his sorrow for his prince\n gallant Eisenhart.\n And the Burg-grave he heard of his coming; then loud rang the\n trumpet call,\n And no man of Zassamank's princes but came to the palace\n hall.\n They gave Gamuret thanks for the honour he had won in the\n field that day,\n Four-and-twenty had fallen before him, and their chargers he\n bore away, 710\n And three chieftains had he made captive. And there rode in\n the princes' train\n Many gallant knights, in the courtyard of the palace did they\n draw rein.\n And the hero had slept and eaten, and clad him in raiment\n fair,\n Chief host was he, for his body fit garments would they\n prepare.\n And she who afore was a maiden but now was a wife would take 715\n Her lord by the hand, forth she led him, and unto her princes\n spake:\n 'My body and this my kingdom are vassals unto this knight,\n If so be that his foemen fearing, resist not his hand of\n might!'\n\n Then Gamuret spake, and his bidding was courteous, for hero\n meet,\n Sir Rassalig, go thou nearer, with a kiss thou my wife shalt\n greet; 720\n And Sir Gaschier, thou shalt do likewise.' Then the Scotch\n knight proud Heuteger\n He bade on the lips to kiss her (and the wounds won in joust\n he bare).\n\n Then he bade them all be seated, and standing, he wisely\n spake:\n 'I were fain to behold my kinsman, if he who did captive take\n The knight shall have naught against it--As kinsman it\n seemeth me 725\n That I find here no other counsel save straightway to set him\n free!'\n Then the queen she smiled, and bade them go swiftly and seek\n the knight,\n And then thro' the throng he pressed him, that count so fair\n and bright,\n Yet bare he the wounds of knighthood, and bravely and well\n had fought;\n With the host of Gaschier the Norman the land of the Moors he\n sought. 730\n He was courteous; his sire a Frenchman he was Kailet's\n sister's son,\n Killirjacac his name; in the service of fair women fair meed\n he won,\n\n And the fairest of men they deemed him. When Gamuret saw his\n face\n (For like were they each to the other, as men of a kindred\n race)\n He bade his queen to kiss him and embrace him as kinsman\n true, 735\n And he spake, 'Now come thou and greet me!' and the knight to\n his arms he drew,\n And he kissed him, and each was joyful that the other he here\n might meet:\n And Gamuret quoth unto him, 'Alas! cousin fair and sweet,\n What doth thy young strength in this conflict? Say, if woman\n hath sent thee here?'\n 'Nay, never a woman sent me, with my cousin I came, Gaschier, 740\n He knoweth why he hath brought me--A thousand men have I,\n And I do to him loyal service--To Rouen in Normandy\n I came, where his force was gathered, and many a youthful\n knight\n I brought from Champagne in mine army; 'neath his banner we\n fain would fight.\n Now evil hath turned against him what of cunning is hers and\n skill, 745\n Thou wilt honour thyself if thou free him for my sake, and\n cure his ill!'\n 'Thyself shalt fulfil thy counsel! Go thou, take with thee\n Gaschier,\n I would fain see my kinsman Kailet, do thou bring him unto me\n here!'\n So they wrought out the host's desiring, and brought him at\n his behest,\n And in loving wise and kindly did Gamuret greet his guest; 750\n And ofttimes the queen embraced him, and kissed him with\n kisses sweet:\n And nothing it wronged her honour in such wise the prince to\n greet,\n He was cousin unto her husband, by birth was himself a king.\n Then smiling his host spake to him, 'God knows, 'twere an\n evil thing,\n Had I taken from thee Toledo, and thy goodly land of Spain 755\n For Gascony's king, who wrathful doth plague thee with strife\n amain;\n 'Twere faithless of me, Sir Kailet, since mine aunt's son\n thou sure shalt be;\n The bravest of knights shall be with thee; say, who forced\n this strife on thee?'\n\n Then out spake the proud young hero, 'My cousin Schiltung\n bade\n (Since his daughter Friedebrand wedded) that I lend to the\n king mine aid. 760\n For the sake of his wife hath he won him, yea even from me\n alone\n Six thousand chosen heroes, who valour and skill have shown.\n And other men did I bring him, but a part they shall hence\n have sailed,\n For the Scottish folk came they hither, brave bands who in\n strife ne'er failed.\n And there came to his aid from Greenland, strong heroes who\n bravely fought, 765\n Two mighty kings, and a torrent of knighthood with them they\n brought,\n And many a goodly vessel: and they pleased me, those men of\n might--\n And here for his sake came Morhold, who hath cunning and\n skill in fight.'\n\n 'But now have they turned them homewards, and that which the\n queen shall say\n Even that will I do with mine army, her servant am I alway! 770\n Thou shalt thank me not for this service, from kinsman 'twas\n due, I ween.\n Now _thine_ are these gallant heroes, if like mine they\n baptized had been\n And were even as they in colour, then never a monarch crowned\n But if they should fight against him, of conflict his fill\n had found!\n But I marvel what here hath brought thee? Say, how didst thou\n reach this strand?' 775\n 'Yestreen I came, and this morning I am lord o'er this goodly\n land!\n The queen by the hand she took me, and with love I myself\n would shield,\n For so did my wit give counsel--' 'Yea, so hast thou won the\n field,\n Those sweet weapons two hosts have vanquished!' 'Thou wouldst\n say, since I fled from _thee_,\n So loudly on me thou calledst, say, what wouldst thou force\n from me? 780\n Let us speak of the thing in friendship!' 'Thine anchor I\n failed to know,\n But seldom mine aunt's brave husband Gandein, did such token\n show!'\n 'But I, I knew well thine ostrich with the snake's head upon\n thy breast,\n Aloft stood thy bird so stately, nor hid it within a nest!'\n\n 'And I saw in thy mien and bearing that that pledge would\n have 'seemed thee ill 785\n Which two heroes afore had given, tho' first had they fought\n their fill.'\n 'E'en such fate as theirs were my portion--But this thing I\n needs must say,\n Tho' little I like a devil, were he victor as thou this day\n For love of his gallant doings the women had deemed him\n sweet,\n Yea, as sugar were fain to eat him!' 'Now thou praisest me\n more than meet!' 790\n 'Nay, of flattery know I little, thou shalt see that I hold\n thee dear\n In other wise!' Then the hero bade Rassalig draw anear.\n\n And courteous he spake, King Kailet, 'My kinsman with valiant\n hand\n Hath made of thee here his captive?' 'Yea, Sire, so the thing\n doth stand,\n And I hold him for such a hero that Assagog's kingdom fair 795\n Should fail not to yield him homage, since the crown he may\n never wear,\n Our prince Eisenhart! In her service was he slain who shall\n now be wife\n To thy kinsman, as knight so faithful he gave for her love\n his life.\n With my kiss have I sealed forgiveness, yet my lord and my\n friend I lost!\n If thy cousin by knightly dealing will repay of his death the\n cost 800\n I will fold my hands as his vassal: and wealth shall be his\n and fame,\n All that Eisenhart from T\u00e1nkaneis as his heritage thought to\n claim.\n Embalmed here the hero lieth, and I gaze on his wounds each\n day\n Since this spear thro' his true heart piercing, my lord and\n my king did slay!'\n\n Then he drew it forth from his bosom by a silken cord so\n fine, 805\n And the heroes saw the spear-blade 'neath his robe on his\n bare chest shine.\n And he quoth, 'It is now high morning, if my lord Sir\n Killirjacac\n My token will bear to my princes, with him will the knights\n ride back.'\n And a finger-ring he sent them: dark as hell were those\n heroes all\n And they rode who were there of princes, thro' the town to\n the castle hall. 810\n As his vassals he gave with their banners to Assagog's lords\n their land,\n And each one rejoiced in the fiefdom he won from his ruler's\n hand,\n But the better part was his portion, Gamuret's, as their lord\n and king.\n And these were the first--as they passed hence their homage\n they fain would bring\n The princes of Zassamank's kingdom, and they came in their\n order due, 815\n And each as their queen had bade them, they took from his\n hand anew\n Their land, and the fruit it should bear them, as to each man\n was fit and right,\n And poverty fled from his presence. Now he who was slain in\n fight\n And in life was a prince by lineage, Prothizilas, he had left\n A Dukedom fair, and this country which was thus of its lord\n bereft 820\n He gave unto him who much honour had won by his strong right\n hand,\n The Burg-grave, in combat dauntless--With its banners he took\n the land.\n\n Then Assagog's noble princes took the Scotch Duke, proud\n Heuteger,\n And Gaschier, the Norman hero, to their lord did they lead\n them there,\n And he spake them free for their asking, and they thanked\n brave Gamuret. 825\n Then Heuteger of Scotland with prayers did these knights\n beset,\n 'Now give to our lord the armour, as prize for his deeds so\n brave,\n That Eisenhart's life took from us, when to Friedebrand he\n gave\n That which was of our land the glory--Forfeit of joy the\n knight,\n And dead on his bier he lieth, since no love might his love\n requite--' 830\n And earth knoweth naught so goodly, the helm it was strong\n and hard,\n Yea even of diamond fashioned, in battle a goodly guard.\n Then Heuteger sware unto them, if the land of his lord he saw\n He would pray of his hand the armour, and send it to them\n once more.\n\n And this did he swear them freely--Then leave would the\n princes pray 835\n Who stood in the royal presence, and they wend from the hall\n their way.\n And tho' sorely the land was wasted, yet Gamuret scattered\n free\n Such royal gifts and goodly as if laden with gold each tree.\n And costly I ween the presents that vassal and friend must\n share\n From the open hand of the hero; and the queen deemed it right\n and fair. 840\n\n Full many a bitter conflict had been fought ere the bridal\n feast,\n But peace had the foeman seal\u00e8d, and the land was from strife\n released;\n (Nor this song I myself have woven, but so was it told to me)\n And Eisenhart did they bury with honours right royally.\n To his grave did his kinsmen bear him, and the gold that his\n lands might bring 845\n In a whole year long, did they spend there, of their free\n will they did this thing.\n And Gamuret bade his kinsfolk his riches and lands to hold\n And use as they would; tho' they craved not such boon from\n the hero bold.\n\n At dawn from before the fortress the foe would their camp\n withdraw,\n And those who were there departed; many litters with them\n they bore. 850\n And the field was left unsheltered, save for one tent so\n great and fair,\n And the king he bade his servants that tent to his vessel\n bear.\n And he said to his folk that to Assagog would he take it, and\n yet I wot\n He did with that speech deceive them, for Assagog saw him\n not.\n\n Now that proud and gallant hero, his heart gave him little\n rest 855\n Since he found there no deeds of knighthood, and gladness\n forsook his breast;\n Yet his dusky wife was dearer than e'en his own life might\n be,\n Ne'er knew he a truer lady whose heart was from falsehood\n free,\n She forgat not what 'seemed a woman, and with her as comrades\n good\n Went purity untarnished, and the ways of true womanhood. 860\n\n He was born in Seville's fair city whom the knight would\n hereafter pray,\n When he grew of his sojourn weary, to sail with him far away;\n For many a mile had he led him, and he brought him unto this\n place,\n And a Christian was he, the steersman, nor like to a Moor in\n face.\n And wisely he spake, 'Thou shalt hide it from them who a dark\n skin bear, 865\n Too swift is my barque for pursuing, from hence shall we\n quickly fare!'\n\n Then his gold it was borne to the vessel. Now of parting I\n needs must tell,\n By night did he go, the hero, and his purpose he hid it well;\n But when from his wife he sail\u00e8d, in her womb did she bear\n his child:\n And fair blew the wind, and the breezes bare him hence o'er\n the waters wild. 870\n\n And the lady she found a letter, and 'twas writ by her\n husband's hand;\n And in French (for she well could read it) did the words of\n the writing stand:\n 'Here one love to another speaketh--As a thief have I stolen\n away\n That mine eyes might not see thy sorrow--But this thing I\n needs must say,\n Wert thou, e'en as I, a Christian I ever should weep for\n thee, 875\n For e'en now I must sorely mourn thee. If it chance that our\n child shall be\n In face like unto one other, then his is a dowry fair,\n Of Anjou was _he_ born, and Frau Minne for his lady he did\n declare.\n Yet was he in strife a hailstorm, ill neighbour unto his foe;\n That his grandsire hath been King Gandein, this I will that\n my son shall know. 880\n Dead he lay thro' his deeds of knighthood; and his father the\n same death won,\n Addanz was his name, and unsplintered his shield hath been\n seen of none;\n And by birth he hath been a Breton, and two brothers' sons\n were they,\n He and the brave Pendragon, and their sires' names I here\n will say;\n For Lassalies he hath been the elder, and Brickus was his\n brother's name, 885\n And Mazadan was their father whom a fay for her love did\n claim.\n Terre-de-la-schoie did they call her, to Fay-Morgan she led\n the king,\n For he was her true heart's fetters; and my race from those\n twain did spring.\n And fair shall they be, and valiant, and as crown\u00e8d kings\n they reign--\n If lady, thou'lt be baptiz\u00e8d thou mayst win me to thee\n again!' 890\n\n Yet had she no thought of anger, but she spake, 'Ah! too soon\n 'tis o'er,\n Of a sooth would I do his bidding, would it bring him to me\n once more.\n In whose charge hath my courteous hero left the fruit of his\n love so true?\n Alas! for the sweet communion that we twain for a short space\n knew!\n Shall the strength of my bitter sorrow rule body and soul\n alway? 895\n And she quoth, 'Now his God to honour, his will would I fain\n obey,\n And gladly I'ld be baptiz\u00e8d, and live as should please my\n love!'\n And sorrow with her heart struggled, and e'en as the turtle\n dove\n Her joy sought the withered branches, for the same mind was\n hers, I ween,\n When the mate of the turtle dieth, she forsaketh the branches\n green. 900\n\n Then the queen at the time appointed bare a son, who was dark\n and light,\n For in him had God wrought a wonder, at one while was he\n black and white.\n And a thousand times she kissed him where white as his sire's\n his skin.\n And she named the babe of her sorrows Feirefis Angevin.\n And he was a woodland-waster, many spears did he shatter\n fair, 905\n And shields did he pierce--as a magpie the hue of his face\n and hair.\n Now a year and more was ended since Gamuret won such fame\n At Zassamank, and his right hand the victor's prize might\n claim,\n And yet o'er the seas he drifted, for the winds vexed the\n hero bold.\n Then a silken sail red gleaming he saw, and the barque did\n hold 910\n The men whom the King of Scotland, Friedebrand, sent upon\n their way\n At the bidding of Queen Belakan\u00e9: from her would they pardon\n pray\n That ever he came against her, tho' in sooth he had lost the\n more.\n And with them the diamond helmet, the corslet and sword they\n bore,\n And hosen e'en such as the harness, and a marvel it needs\n must be 915\n That the barque was thus borne towards him, as the venture\n hath told to me!\n And they gave him the goodly armour, and an oath unto them he\n swore\n That his mouth it should speak their message, an he came to\n the queen once more.\n And they parted; and one hath told me that the sea bare him\n onward bound\n Till he came to a goodly haven, and in Seville his goal he\n found. 920\n And with gold did he pay his steersman right well for his\n guidance true,\n And they parted, those twain, and sorrow the heart of that\n steersman knew!\n\n\n\n\nBOOK II\n\nHERZELEIDE\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nThis Book tells how Gamuret sought for King Kailet, and found him\nbefore Kanvoleis. How the Queen of the Waleis ordered a Tourney\n to be\nholden, and of the heroes there assembled. How Gamuret did\n valiant\ndeeds, and was adjudged the victor; and how two queens laid claim\n to\nhis love. Of the wedding of Gamuret and Queen Herzeleide and\n their\nlove to each other. How Gamuret went to the aid of the Baruch,\n and was\ntreacherously slain before Alexandria. How the news was brought\n to the\nland of the Waleis; of the sorrow of Herzeleide; and of the birth\n of\nParzival.\n\n BOOK II\n\n HERZELEIDE\n\n Now there in the Spanish country he thought him the king to\n greet,\n His kinsman and cousin Kailet, and he followed with footsteps\n fleet\n To Toledo, but thence had he ridden unto deeds of knighthood\n fair,\n Where many a spear should be splintered, and men thought not\n their shields to spare.\n Then he thought him to make him ready (so the venture doth\n tell I ween) 5\n With many a blazoned spear-shaft, and many a sendal green;\n For each spear it bare a pennon, with the anchor in ermine\n white,\n And well was it wrought, the symbol, and costly in all men's\n sight.\n And long and broad were the pennons, and e'en to the hand\n hung low\n When men on the spear-blade bound them, a span-breadth the\n point below. 10\n And a hundred spears were ready for that true and gallant\n knight,\n And his cousin's folk they bare them, and with him went forth\n to fight;\n And honour and loyal service they showed him as fit and fair,\n Nor I think had their lord been wrathful that his kinsman\n their love should share.\n\n I know not how long he sought him, till shelter at length he\n found 15\n In the Waleis land: 'fore Kanvoleis were pitched on the open\n ground\n Many tents so fair and knightly; (I speak not from fancy\n light\n But sooth are the words I tell ye if the tale ye would hear\n aright)\n Then he bade his folk to halt there, and he sent on before\n his face\n The chief of his squires, and he bade him to seek them a\n resting-place. 20\n He would fain do his master's bidding, and swift to the town\n he sped,\n And many a pack-horse laden his comrades behind him led.\n And never a house he saw there but its roof was a shield I\n trow,\n And the walls were hung and circled with spears in a goodly\n row,\n For the queen of the Waleis country had ordered at Kanvoleis 25\n That a Tourney fair be holden, and they ordered it in such\n wise\n That a coward had little liked it--for whoever would seek\n such strife\n At his will doth it chance but seldom! She was maiden, not\n yet a wife,\n And herself and two lands she offered to him who the prize\n should hold;\n And many to earth had fallen in whose ear had this tale been\n told, 30\n And he who such fall must suffer he held that his chance was\n o'er.\n And many a dauntless hero showed knighthood those walls\n before,\n And many a horse rushed onward as the knight spurred to\n onslaught fierce,\n And the sword-blades rang clear on each other, and spears did\n the shield rims pierce.\n\n A bridge from the plain was builded that crossed o'er the\n river's flow, 35\n And 'twas closed by a tower-portal; nor the squire at his\n task was slow,\n But he opened the gates, unwearied, when one would an\n entrance win.\n And above it there stood the palace, and the queen sat the\n hall within,\n And she gazed from the high hall window with many a maiden\n fair,\n And they looked on the squires beneath them to see what had\n brought them there. 40\n 'Twixt themselves had they taken counsel, and a tent did they\n rear on high\n For the winning of love ungranted a king wrought it in days\n gone by,\n ('Twas in service of Queen Belakan\u00e9). The squires laboured\n with might and main\n Till the burden of thirty pack-steeds they raised on the\n grassy plain,\n A pavilion rich to look on, and the meadow it was so wide 45\n That the silken ropes that held it might stretch forth on\n either side.\n And Gamuret, their master, ate without in the open air--\n And then for his courtly entrance with skill would the knight\n prepare,\n Nor longer might be delaying--His squires take the spears\n straightway,\n And they bind them fast together, and five in each band they\n lay, 50\n And the sixth in their hand they carry, with its pennon and\n anchor white;\n So proudly into the city came riding this gallant knight.\n\n Then the queen she heard the tidings that a noble guest was\n come\n From a far-off land and distant, and in sooth was he known to\n none.\n 'And courteous his folk in bearing; both heathen and French I\n trow, 55\n And Angevin, some among them if their speech I aright may\n know;\n And their courage is high, and their raiment both rich and\n well shaped shall be.\n But now was I with his people, and they seem me from\n falsehood free,\n And they say, 'Who hath lust for riches, if he to our lord\n shall seek\n He will free him from fear of scarceness!' The while I with\n them did speak, 60\n I asked them to tell of their master, and they thought not to\n hide the thing,\n But spake of a true heart freely, 'Of Zassamank is he king.'\n\n 'Twas a page who brought the tidings--'Ah me! that pavilion\n fair!\n Wouldst thou pledge thy crown and thy kingdom not half of its\n cost were there!'\n 'Thou needst not to praise so highly, my mouth ne'er shall\n say thee nay, 65\n A rich man shall be its owner, no lack doth he know alway.'\n And in this wise she spake, the lady, the fair and gracious\n queen,\n 'Why cometh he not to the castle? For fain I his face had\n seen.'\n\n This she bade her page to ask him--Then the hero was fain to\n make\n Brave entry into the city, and the sleepers must needs awake. 70\n Many shields he saw fair shining--The blast of the trumpets\n clear\n Rang loud and long before him, and two drummers ye needs must\n hear\n As they tossed and smote their tambours, and the walls echoed\n back the sound,\n With the notes of the flutes 'twas mingled as the train\n through the city wound,\n 'Twas a march that they played so gaily--Nor forget we how he\n must ride 75\n Their master and lord, he followed with the fiddlers his rein\n beside.\n\n Then he threw his leg o'er his charger, that hero so bold and\n fair,\n And boots did he wear of leather, or else had his limbs been\n bare.\n And his mouth it was e'en as a ruby, and red, as a fire doth\n burn,\n And full, not too thin; fair his body wherever the eye might\n turn; 80\n And fair was his hair and curling, and wherever one saw the\n skin\n I ween 'twas as costly cover as ever a head might win.\n And of samite green was his mantle, and the sable shone dark\n thereon\n Tho' white was his vest, and the gazers they came in a goodly\n throng.\n And many must ask the question, 'Who was he, the beardless\n knight 85\n Who rode with such pomp of riches?' Then the tale it was\n spread aright,\n For they spake it as truth who knew it--So they drew to the\n bridge anear\n The folk of the town, and his people; and so bright was the\n radiance clear\n That shone from the queen that it thrilled him thro' his\n strong limbs, that goodly knight,\n And he braced himself as a falcon that plumeth its wings for\n flight, 90\n And the lodging he deemed it goodly; so thought he that hero\n wise;\n And his hostess with joy beheld him, the lady of fair Waleis!\n\n Then the king of Spain he heard it, how there stood on the\n open plain\n The tent that at Rassalig's bidding Gamuret as his prize did\n gain\n At Patelamunt, and the tidings a knight to his lord would\n bring-- 95\n Then he sped as a deer, joy's vassal I ween was the gallant\n king!\n And thus spake the knight, 'Thy kinsman, and the son of thine\n aunt I saw,\n And with pomp and in state as aforetime, so to-day doth he\n hither draw;\n There are floating a hundred pennons full fair by his\n knightly shield,\n And around his high pavilion they stand on the grassy field, 100\n And green as the grass the pennons, and the hero bold doth\n bear\n Three anchors of snow-white ermine on every sendal fair.'\n\n 'Hath he come here arrayed for battle? Ah! then shall men see\n straightway\n How he spurreth him swift to the onslaught, how he striveth\n in knightly fray!\n Long time hath the proud King Hardeiss his anger against me\n shown, 105\n Here in joust shall Gamuret fell him, and good fortune shall\n be mine own!'\n\n Then straightway he sent a message to Gaschier, the Norman\n knight,\n Where he lay with many a vassal; and Killirjacac the fair and\n bright,\n For here had they come at his bidding--The twain at King\n Kailet's side\n Towards the fair pavilion with a goodly following hied. 110\n And Zassamank's king was joyful, for he held them dear at\n heart:\n And the time over-long had seemed them since they must from\n each other part,\n This they spake of a true heart truly--And the king he was\n fain to know\n What knights should be here for the Tourney, who valour and\n skill should show.\n Then spake unto him his kinsmen, 'From distant lands they\n came, 115\n The knights whom love's power hath brought here, many heroes\n of dauntless fame.'\n\n 'Here Uther Pendragon fighteth, and with him his Breton host;\n One grief as a thorn doth vex him, his wife hath the hero\n lost,\n The queen who was Arthur's mother; a clerk who all magic knew\n With him hath she fled, and Arthur doth after the twain\n pursue; 120\n 'Tis now the third year since he lost them, his son alike and\n wife--\n And here is his daughter's husband, a hero well skilled in\n strife,\n King Lot is his name, of Norway--swift seeketh he\n knighthood's prize,\n But slow are his feet to falsehood, the knight so bold and\n wise.\n And here is his young son Gawain; as yet he too weak shall be 125\n For any deed of knighthood--but now was the boy with me,\n And he spake, were he not too feeble a spear-shaft as yet to\n break\n He were fain to do deeds of knighthood, in the Tourney his\n part would take!\n His lust for strife waketh early! Here Patrigalt's king hath\n brought\n Of spears a goodly forest; yet their valour shall be as\n naught 130\n When weighed against the gallant doings of the men of\n Portugal,\n Yea, _bold_ we in truth may call them, and shields do they\n pierce right well.\n And here are the men of Provence, with many a blazoned\n shield;\n And here the Waleis, to their onslaught the foemen perforce\n must yield,\n And they ride at their will thro' the combat, for men of the\n land are they. 135\n Many fight here for love's rewarding whose title I may not\n say,\n But all whom I here have named thee now lie, and the truth I\n tell,\n At great cost here within the city, for so the queen deemed\n it well.'\n\n 'And without on the plain they hold them who deem their prize\n lightly won,\n Proud Arragon's haughty monarch, and the brave king of\n Askalon. 140\n Eidegast, he is there from Logrois, and the King\n Brandelidelein\n (The monarch is he of Punturtois), there too is bold\n L\u00e4helein.\n And Morhold is there of Ireland, many pledges that knight\n hath ta'en;\n And many a haughty German doth camp on that battle plain.\n To this country the Duke of Brabant hath come thro' the King\n Hardeiss; 145\n The king of Gascony gave him his sister the fair Aleiss,\n (Yet his service ere that won payment) wrath against me those\n princes drew:\n Now I trust _thee_ to think of our kinship--For love's sake\n do me service true!'\n Quoth the king of Zassamank, 'Cousin, no thanks would I have\n from thee\n Whate'er I may do for thine honour, my will e'en as thine\n shall be. 150\n Doth thine ostrich yet stand un-nested? Thou shalt carry its\n serpent's head\n 'Gainst thy foeman's demi-gryphon, _my_ anchor shall swift be\n sped,\n And find in his onslaught landing; himself shall a haven seek\n Behind his steed on the gravel! If our wrath we be fain to\n wreak,\n And ride one against the other, I fell him, or he felleth\n me-- 155\n On my knightly faith as a kinsman this word do I swear to\n thee!'\n\n Then Kailet he sought his lodging, and his heart it was gay\n and light.\n Then arose on the plain a war-cry, 'fore the face of two\n gallant knights,\n They were Schyolarz of Poitou, and Gurnemanz of Graharz,\n On the plain did they meet together; ere the eventide might\n pass 160\n The knights in their troops they rode forth, here by six and\n there by three,\n And they did gallant deeds of knighthood--nor otherwise might\n it be.\n\n And now it was fully noontide, and the knight in his tent\n abode;\n Then the king of Zassamank heard this, that o'er all the\n field they rode,\n 'O'er the length and the breadth they gallop, and in knightly\n order fight.' 165\n And thither he rode, the hero, with many a banner bright;\n But he rode not in search of conflict, at his leisure he\n thought to see\n What was done by one side and the other of fair deeds of\n chivalry.\n On the plain did they spread his carpet, where the knights in\n strife would close,\n And the shriek of the wounded horses o'er all the tumult\n rose. 170\n The squires stood round in a circle mid the clash of the\n ringing steel,\n And the heroes for fair fame battled, and the swords sang for\n woe or weal.\n There was sound as of splintered spear-shafts, but none need\n to question, Where?\n And his walls were of meeting foemen, by knightly hands\n builded fair.\n\n And so near was I ween the jousting that the maids from the\n hall above 175\n Might look on the toil of the heroes--But sorrow the queen\n did move\n Since the king of Zassamank did naught, nor mingled him in\n the fight,\n And she quoth, 'Ah! why came he hither? I had deemed him a\n gallant knight!'\n (Now the King of France, whose fair wife brought Gamuret\n sorrow sore\n When he fought for her sake, lay lifeless, and the queen\n sought the wide world o'er 180\n To know if from heathen countries he had come to his land\n again.\n 'Twas love's power to the search that drove her, for love did\n her heart constrain.)\n\n And many brave deeds were done there of many a poor man bold,\n Who yet for the highest strove not, which the queen for their\n prize had told,\n Herself and her two fair kingdoms,--they thought not such\n prize to gain, 185\n But they battled for other booty, tho' their hearts were for\n payment fain.\n\n Now clad was Gamuret's body in the harness whereby his wife\n Might bring to her mind forgiveness, and the ending of bitter\n strife.\n The Scotch King Friedebrand sent it, as a gift, to repay the\n woe\n That with conflict he heaped upon her, nor shall earth of its\n fellow know. 190\n Then he looked well upon the diamond--'twas a helmet, thereon\n they bound\n An anchor, and jewels so precious were within its setting\n found;\n Nor small were the stones, but costly, and the weight it was\n none too light\n Of that helmet, and yet he bare it, and decked was the guest\n for fight\n\n And what was his shield's adorning? of gold of Araby fair, 195\n And the boss it was rich and costly, and heavy the weight he\n bare.\n And the red gold shone so brightly that mirrored the face\n therein,\n And an anchor beneath of sable--I were fain to myself to win\n That wherewith the knight was girded, full many a mark its\n worth.\n And wide was the coat emblazoned, and it reached e'en unto\n the earth, 200\n And I ween that few in battle such raiment shall think to\n wear.\n And if I have skill to praise it, or its value aright\n declare,\n It shone e'en as when there burneth thro' the night-time a\n living flame,\n And never a tint was faded, and its shimmer as lightning\n came,\n A feeble eye had feared it! And with gold was it all\n inwrought, 205\n That in Kaukasus' distant mountains from out of the rock was\n brought\n By gryphon claws, for they guarded, and shall guard it unto\n this day.\n And from Araby came the people who stole it by craft away,--\n Elsewhere shall be none so precious,--and they bare it to\n Araby\n Where they weave Achmardi and Pfellel, and no vesture like\n _that_ shall be! 210\n His shield, round his neck he hung it--There stood a charger\n proud,\n Well-nigh to the hoof was it armed--and the squires cried the\n war-cry loud,\n And he sprang on his steed as he found it; and many a spear\n of might\n Did he break with strong hand in the Tourney, and where men\n did the closest fight\n There he brake a way thro' the m\u00eal\u00e9e, and came forth on the\n further side, 215\n And ever behind the Ostrich the Anchor did close abide.\n\n Gamuret smote from off his charger Poytewin of Prienlaskors\n And many another hero, their pledge must they yield perforce.\n But what knight bare the cross he rejoiced him in the hero's\n valiant deeds,\n And much did he win by his valour, since he gave him the\n captured steeds. 220\n\n Now four banners, with self-same bearing, were led 'gainst\n that gallant knight,\n (And bold riders they rode beneath them, and their lord was a\n man of might,)\n And on each was the tail of a gryphon; and that hinder part I\n trow\n Was e'en as a hailstorm smiting, so rode they in goodly row.\n And Gascony's king before them the fore part of that gryphon\n bare 225\n On his shield; he was skilled in battle, and his body was\n armed full fair\n As women alone might arm him; and he rode forth his knights\n before\n Where he saw on a helm the Ostrich, but the Anchor towards\n him bore,\n And he thrust him from off his charger, the brave king of\n Zassamank,\n And made of him there his captive. Here close thronged the\n knightly ranks, 230\n And the furrows were trodden level, and their locks must the\n sword-blade know,\n And many a wood was wasted, and many a knight laid low--\n And they who thus fell, 'twas told me, they turned their\n chargers round\n And hied to the back of the Tourney, where none but the\n cowards were found.\n\n And so near was I ween the combat that the women might see\n aright 235\n Who there won the prize of valour; Rivalein that love-lorn\n knight\n With his spear hewed afresh a token, of Loheneis was he king,\n And the crash of the splintered spear-shaft did aye with his\n onslaught ring.\n Of a knight did Morhold rob them, for he drew him from off\n his steed\n And lifted him up before him (unseemly methinks such deed) 340\n And Killirjacac they called him,--and ere this King Lac had\n ta'en\n Such payment from him as in falling a knight from the earth\n may gain--\n So his deeds had been fair and knightly; then this valiant\n man he thought\n He would take him with never a sword-thrust, and the knight\n in his arms he caught.\n Then the hand of the valiant Kailet it smote from the\n saddle-bow 245\n The Duke of Brabant, Prince Lambekein, and the hero was laid\n alow.\n And what think ye they did, his soldiers? Their swords into\n shields they turned,\n And with them did they guard their monarch--And ever for\n strife they yearned.\n\n Then the King of Arragon smote him Uther Pendragon old,\n From his charger adown on the meadow fell the king of the\n Bretons bold, 250\n And the flowers stood fair around him--Ah! I courteous am I,\n I trow,\n Since the Breton before Kanvoleis I lay on such couch alow,\n Where never the foot of a peasant hath trodden unto this day,\n Nay, perchance they may never tread there--'tis the truth and\n no lie I say--\n No more might he keep his saddle as he sat on his steed of\n yore, 255\n But his peril his friends forgat not, they fought fiercely\n the hero o'er.\n\n And many a course was ridden; and the king of Punturtois\n Fell prone in his horse's hoof-tracks on the field before\n Kanvoleis,\n And low did he lie behind it--'Twas Gamuret dealt the blow--\n 'Ride on, on thy course, thou hero, and tread thy foemen\n low!' 260\n Strife giveth whereon to trample! Then Kailet, his kinsman\n true,\n Made the Punturtois his captive, tho' he scarce pierced the\n m\u00eal\u00e9e thro'.\n Brandelidelein was prisoner, and his folk they had lost their\n king,\n In his stead another monarch to their host did they captive\n bring.\n And hither and thither sped they, the heroes, in armour good, 265\n And by blows and by trampling kneaded, of alum I ween their\n food;\n And dark on their skin the swellings, and many a gallant\n knight\n Might speak, as he knew, of bruises he had won him in\n hard-fought fight.\n\n Now as simple truth I say it, little rest was their portion\n here,\n By love were they forced to conflict, many shields with their\n blazon clear, 270\n And many a goodly helmet whose covering the dust should be.\n And the meadow with flowers was sprinkled, and green turf ye\n there might see,\n And there fell on it many a hero, who of honour had won such\n meed--\n More modest were my desiring! 'Twould content me to sit my\n steed.\n\n Then the king of Zassamank rode forth a space from the\n knightly fray 275\n Where a rested steed did wait him, and the diamond he loosed\n alway,\n With no thought of pride in the doing, but the breezes blew\n fresh and cool,\n And the squires unbound his vizor, and his lips shone so red\n and full.\n\n I have named unto ye a lady--Her chaplain did hither ride,\n And with him three noble pages, and strong squires were there\n beside; 280\n And pack-horses twain they led there, and the will of their\n queen they'ld do,\n She was Lady of France, Anflis\u00e9--Her chaplain was wise and\n true,\n And straightway he knew the hero, and in French should his\n greeting be,\n 'Soit le bien venu, mon beau sire' to my lady as e'en to me,\n As queen of France she reigneth whom the lance of thy love\n doth smite, 285\n And he gave to his hand a letter, and therein read the\n gallant knight\n A greeting fair, and a token it held of a finger-ring--\n As pledge of the truth of his mission the chaplain the same\n must bring\n His lady of old received it from the hand of the Angevin--\n Then he bowed as he saw the letter. Would ye hear what was\n writ therein? 290\n\n 'Here biddeth thee love and greeting a heart that hath ne'er\n been free\n From grief since it knew thy service--Thy love is both lock\n and key\n To my heart, and my heart's rejoicing! For thy love am I like\n to die,\n If thy love afar abideth, then all love from my heart shall\n fly.\n Come thou, and take from my true hand crown, sceptre, and\n kingdom fair, 295\n It falleth to me as heirdom, and thy love well may claim a\n share.\n As payment for this thy service rich presents I send to thee,\n Four pack-horses' chests well laden--I would thou my knight\n shouldst be\n In this the land of the Waleis, 'fore the city of Kanvoleis.\n I care not if the queen shall see it, small harm may\n therefrom arise, 300\n For fairer am I, and richer, and I think me shall better know\n To take the love that is proffered, and love in return\n bestow.\n Wilt thou live in true love as shall 'seem thee? Then here do\n I bid thee take\n My crown as thy love's rewarding--This I pray for my true\n love's sake.'\n And no more did he find in the letter--Then his squires once\n more they drew 305\n O'er his head the under-helmet; from Gamuret sorrow flew,\n And he bound on the helm of diamond, 'twas harder than blade\n might pierce,\n For he thought again to prove him, and ride forth to conflict\n fierce.\n And the messengers did he bid them to lead to the tent for\n rest:\n And he cleared a space around him wherever the conflict\n pressed. 310\n\n This was vanquished, and that one victor--Did a knight\n o'er-long delay\n To win to him fame in battle, his chance might he find\n to-day.\n Here twain would joust together; in troops would these others\n ride;\n And the customs of friendly combat for a space did they lay\n aside,\n And sworn brotherhood nothing counted 'fore the strength of\n fierce anger's might, 315\n And the crooked was seldom straightened; nor spake they of\n knightly right,\n What they captured they kept, uncaring if another's hate they\n won,\n And from many lands had they ridden who with brave hands\n brave deeds had done,\n\n And their hurts but little grieved them. Here Gamuret heard\n her prayer,\n And e'en as Anflis\u00e9 bade him, as her knight to the field\n would fare; 320\n 'Twas a letter had brought the tidings--Ah! he giveth his\n courage rein,\n Is it love or the lust of battle that driveth him on amain?\n Great love and strong faith they quicken his strength into\n life anew.\n Now see where his shield he beareth, King Lot, that hero\n true,\n His foemen to flight had forced him save for Gamuret's strong\n right hand, 325\n His charger in gallant onslaught brake its way thro' the\n threatening band,\n And Arragon's king was smitten from his horse with a spear of\n reed,\n 'Schaffilor was his name, and the spear-point which thrust\n him from off his steed\n Bare never a waving pennon, from paynim lands 'twas brought,'\n And the knight made the king his captive, tho' his folk they\n had bravely fought. 330\n And the inner force drave the outer far back on the grassy\n plain.\n 'Twas a good vesper-play, yea, a Tourney; many spears did\n they smite in twain--\n\n Then L\u00e4helein 'gain wax wrathful, 'Shall our honour be reft\n away?\n 'Tis the fault of him of the Anchor! Now one of us twain\n to-day\n Shall lay in short space the other on a couch that he liketh\n ill, 335\n For here are they well-nigh victors!' Then they cleared them\n a space at will,\n And no child's play it was that combat--In such wise with\n their hands they wrought\n That a woodland was well-nigh wasted; and alike from their\n squires they sought\n 'New spears! New spears! Bring them hither!' Yet L\u00e4helein he\n must know\n Sorrow and shame, for his foeman thrust him down from his\n horse alow, 340\n And he smote him the length of the spear-iron in a shaft of\n reed made fast,\n And one read of itself his surety, for the knight to the\n earth was cast.\n (Yet better I like to read them, sweet pears on the ground\n that lie\n As thick as the knights lay round him! for his was the\n victory!)\n\n And the cry arose from many who had fallen in joust before, 345\n 'Fly! Fly! For the Anchor cometh!' Then a knight towards him\n bore,\n (A prince of the Angevin country) and grief was his comrade\n true,\n For he bare a shield inverted, and sorrow it taught anew\n To the King, for the badge he knew it--Ah! why did he turn\n aside?\n If ye will, I the truth will tell ye, 'twas given in royal\n pride 350\n By Galoes the son of Gandein, Gamuret's brother true,\n Ere Love this guerdon gave him that the hero in joust she\n slew.\n\n Then he loosed from his head the helmet: nor thro' grass, nor\n thro' dust and sand\n Did he make him a way to the conflict, but he yielded to\n grief's command;\n And his thoughts within him battled, that he sought not ere\n this to hear 355\n From Kailet, his friend and kinsman, how it fared with his\n brother dear\n That he came not here to the Tourney--Alas! tho' he knew it\n not,\n He had fallen before Monthorie--Sore sorrow was there his\n lot,\n For to anguish did love constrain him, the love of a noble\n queen;\n For his loss had she grieved so sorely that death had her\n portion been. 360\n\n And tho' sorely Gamuret sorrowed, yet had he in half a day\n So many spear-shafts broken, were it Tourney indeed this fray\n Then had he a woodland wasted. Did I think me to count each\n spear\n One hundred in fight had he shattered, each blazoned with\n colours clear--\n But the heralds, they won his pennons, in sooth were they\n theirs of right-- 365\n Then toward the fair pavilion he turned him, the gallant\n knight.\n And the Waleis squire rode after; and his was the coat so\n fair,\n All pierced and hewn with sword-thrust, which he did to his\n lady bear;\n And yet with gold was it precious, and it shone with a fiery\n glow,\n And right well might ye see its richness. Then joy did the\n queen's heart know, 370\n And she spake, 'A fair woman sent thee, with this knight, to\n this distant land!\n Now, courteous, I must bethink me lest these heroes ashamed\n shall stand\n Who have risked their fate in this venture--goodwill unto all\n I bear,\n For all do I count my kinsmen, since Adam's flesh we share,\n Yet Gamuret's hand, I think me, the highest prize hath won.' 375\n But by wrath constrained they battled till the shadows of\n night drew on,\n And the inner host the outer by force to their tents had\n brought,\n Save for Askalon's king and Morhold thro' the camp they their\n way had fought.\n\n Some were winners, and some were losers, and many sore shame\n had earned,\n While others won praise and honour. Then the foe from each\n other turned, 380\n Here no man might see--He who holdeth the stakes, if no light\n he show,\n Who would cast the dice in the darkness? To such sport were\n the weary slow!\n\n Men well might forget the darkness where Gamuret did abide,\n 'Twas as day--That in sooth it was not, but light shone on\n every side\n From many small tapers clustered. There, laid on the olive\n wood, 385\n Was many a costly cushion, and by each couch a carpet good.\n Then the queen, she rode to the doorway with many a maid of\n rank,\n For fain would they see, those ladies, the brave king of\n Zassamank.\n\n Many wearied knights thronged after--The cloth had they borne\n away\n Ere she came to the fair pavilion; then the host he uprose\n straightway, 390\n And the monarchs four his captives (and many a prince was\n there),\n And she welcomed him with due honour, and she saw him, and\n deemed him fair.\n Then glad spake the queen of the Waleis, 'Thou art host where\n we twain do stand,\n And I, even so I think me, am hostess o'er all this land,\n If thou deem it well I should kiss thee, such kiss seemeth\n good to me!' 395\n 'Thy kiss shall be mine if these heroes, e'en as I, shall be\n kissed by thee,\n But if princes and kings must forego it, 'twere unfit I such\n boon should crave!'\n 'Yea, e'en as thou wilt, so be it, tho' ne'er saw I these\n heroes brave!'\n Then she kissed, e'en as Gamuret prayed her, these princes of\n noble line,\n And he prayed her to sit, and beside her sat the King\n Brandelidelein! 400\n\n Then lightly they strewed, o'er the carpet, green rushes yet\n wet with dew,\n And he sat him down upon them whose presence brought joy anew\n To the gracious queen of the Waleis; and love did her soul\n constrain,\n And as Gamuret sat before her his hand did she clasp again,\n And she drew him once more towards her, and she set him her\n seat beside. 405\n No wife was she, but a maiden, from whose hand did such grace\n betide.\n Would ye know the name they called her? Herzeleide the queen\n was she,\n (And her cousin was hight Rischoyd\u00e8, King Kailet should her\n husband be,\n And _he_ was Gamuret's cousin), and so radiant the queen, and\n bright,\n That e'en though they quenched the tapers, in her presence\n 'twould still be light! 410\n (Were it not that a mighty sorrow his joy which aloft would\n fly\n Had beaten to earth, I think me he had wooed her right\n readily.)\n\n And courteous they spake to each other: then cup-bearers drew\n anigh,\n And from Assagog the vessels, and their cost might no man\n deny;\n And noble pages bare them, many costly bowls and fair, 415\n Of precious jewels wroughten, and wide, none too small, they\n were,\n And none of them all were golden--'twas the tribute of that\n fair land,\n Which Eisenhart oft had proffered, when love's need nerved\n his knightly hand.\n And the drink unto each they proffered in many a coloured\n stone,\n And of emerald some, and of sardius, and of ruby some wrought\n alone. 420\n\n Then there drew near to his pavilion two knights who their\n word must swear,\n (To the outer host were they captive and from thence to the\n town would fare.)\n And one of them was King Kailet; and he looked upon Gamuret,\n And he saw him sit heavy-hearted, and he spake, 'Dost thou\n sorrow yet\n For all men they own thy valour; Herzeleide and kingdoms\n twain 425\n Hast thou won, and all tongues have said it, to thy praises\n all men are fain,\n Be they Britons or men of Ireland--Who speaketh with foreign\n tongue,\n If France be their land, or Brabant, with one voice they thy\n praise have sung,\n That none here both skill and wisdom in strife like to thine\n have shown.\n True letter it is I read thee! No slumber thy strength hath\n known, 430\n When these knights thou hast put in peril who surety ne'er\n sware of old,\n Brandelidelein the monarch, and L\u00e4helein, hero bold;\n And Hardeiss and King Schaffilor; yea, and Rassalig the Moor,\n Whom thine hand before Patelamunt o'erthrew and he surety\n swore,\n Such lesson thou there didst teach him--Yea, this doth thy\n fame desire 435\n That with every coming conflict it broader shall wax and\n higher.'\n\n 'The queen sure will deem thou ravest, if in this wise thou\n praisest me,\n Yet I think not that thou shalt sell me, since the buyer the\n flaw shall see;\n Thy mouth is o'er-full of praises! Say, how hast thou come\n again?'\n 'The worthy folk of Punturtois, this knight from fair\n Champagne 440\n And myself have loosed, and Morhold who this nephew hath\n stolen of mine\n Will set him free, if on thy part thou wilt free\n Brandelidelein;\n Otherwise are we captive to them, both I and my sister's son,\n But such grace thou wilt surely show us--Here such\n vesper-play was run\n That it cometh not to a Tourney this while before Kanvoleis, 445\n And in sooth do I know how it standeth! Here sit they before\n mine eyes,\n The strength of the outer army--now speak, tell me when and\n how\n They could hold the field against us? Much fame hast thou\n won, I trow!'\n\n Then the queen she spake to the hero from a true heart full\n tenderly,\n 'Whate'er be my claim upon thee, I pray thee to let it be. 450\n I were fain of thy service worthy--If here I my right shall\n claim,\n And thine honour thereby be tarnished, I will leave thee nor\n mar thy fame!'\n\n Then he sprang to his feet, the chaplain of Anflis\u00e9 the wise\n and fair,\n And he quoth, 'Nay, my queen doth claim him, at her will to\n this land I fare.\n For his love hath she sent me hither, for his love she afar\n doth pine, 455\n And her love layeth claim upon him and _hers_ shall he be,\n not _thine_.\n O'er all women I ween doth she love him: here as messengers\n hath she sent\n Three princes, lads free from falsehood; and the one is hight\n Lazident\n Of noble birth from Greenland, and in K\u00e4rlingen doth he\n dwell,\n And his own hath he made the language; and the second his\n name I'll tell, 460\n Liodarz he, a count his father, and Schyolarz was he hight.\n And who was the third? Will ye hearken, his kinship I'll tell\n aright:\n Belleflur she hath been his mother, Pansamur was his father's\n name,\n Liahturteltart they called him, of the race of the fays he\n came.\n Then they ran all three before him, and they spake, 'Wouldst\n thy fortune prove? 465\n (The queen of France doth proffer the chance of a worthy\n love.)\n Thou shalt play the game, and never a pledge shall be asked\n from thee,\n Nor thy joy be to sorrow forfeit, as it waxeth still fair and\n free!'\n\n Then e'en while they spake their errand Kailet he had ta'en\n his seat\n 'Neath a fold of the royal mantle, and she spake to him low\n and sweet, 470\n 'Now say, hath worse harm befallen? Methinks I the wounds\n have seen?'\n In that same hour his wounds and bruises she sought out, the\n gracious queen,\n With her white hands so small and shapely, which their wisdom\n from God must win,\n And sore was he cut and wounded on nose and on cheek and\n chin.\n He had won for his wife the cousin of the queen who such\n honour fair 475\n Would show him, herself would she tend him, and her hands for\n his hurts should care.\n\n Then e'en as courtesy bade her she spake unto Gamuret,\n 'The fair queen of France, it seemeth, her heart upon thee\n hath set;\n Now honour in me all women, and give what I here may claim,\n Go not till men judge betwixt us, else thou leavest me here\n to shame.' 480\n This he sware unto her, the hero, and leave she from him\n would crave,\n And she passed thence, and then King Kailet, that monarch so\n true and brave,\n He lifted her to her saddle; and he turned him about once\n more\n And came into the pavilion, where his kinsman and friends he\n saw.\n\n Then spake he unto King Hardeiss, 'Aleiss thy sister fair 485\n She proffered her love, I took it--Now wedded is she\n elsewhere,\n And a better than I is her husband! No longer thus wrathful\n frown,\n Prince Lambekein, he hath won her--tho' in sooth she shall\n wear no crown,\n Yet honour enough is her portion--Brabant and Hennegau\n Do her service, and many a brave knight doth unto her bidding\n bow. 490\n If thy mind it shall turn to greet me let thy favour be mine\n once more,\n And take thou again my service of a true heart as aye of\n yore.'\n\n Then the king of Gascony answered as befitted a hero brave,\n 'Yea, soft is thy speech, yet if greeting I give thee as thou\n dost crave,\n Who hath offered to me such insult, men will deem _fear_ such\n grace hath won, 495\n For captive am I to thy cousin!' 'Yet ill shall he deal with\n none,\n Gamuret, he shall grant thy freedom, that boon my first\n prayer shall be:\n No man shall thereto constrain thee, yet my service the day\n shall see\n When thou as thy friend shalt claim me. For the shame, 'tis\n enow I wot,\n For whate'er _thou_ mayst do against me, thy sister, she\n slayeth me not!' 500\n\n Then all at his words laughed loudly. But their mirth it was\n soon o'erpast\n For his true heart the host constrain\u00e8d, and desire held him\n once more fast,\n And a sharp goad I ween is sorrow--Then the heroes they saw\n right well\n How he wrestled anew with sorrow and his joy in the conflict\n fell;\n And his cousin he waxed right wrathful, and he spake, 'Now\n thou doest ill.' 505\n 'Nay, nay, for I needs must sorrow, and naught may my\n yearning still\n For the queen I have left behind me, afar on a heathen shore,\n Pure wife and true is that lady, and my heart she hath\n wounded sore.'\n\n 'And her purity doth constrain me to mourn for her love so\n sweet,\n Vassals and lands she gave me; yet joy for a true knight meet 510\n Belakan\u00e9 of that hath robbed me! yet shame for a wavering\n mind\n I think me is right and manly--With such fetters her love did\n bind\n That she held me afar from Tourney, nor in search of strife I\n went;\n Then I thought me that deeds of knighthood should free me\n from ill-content,\n And here have I somewhat striven--Now many a fool would say 515\n That I, for her colour, fled her, to my eyes was she light as\n day!\n For her womanhood true I sorrow; o'er all others her worth\n stood high\n As the boss from the shield outstandeth. And another grief\n have I,\n And here make I my moan unto ye, my brother's arms I saw,\n But the shield on which they were blazoned, with point\n up-turned they bore.' 520\n (Ah! woe for the words that are spoken, and the tidings of\n grief they bring!)\n His eyes they o'erflowed with water, that gallant Spanish\n king,\n 'Alas! O queen for thy madness, thro' thy love is Galoes\n slain,\n Whom every faithful woman from her heart shall mourn amain\n If she would that her dealing win her true honour in true\n man's thought. 525\n Ah! queen of Auvergne I think me, tho' small grief it to thee\n hath brought,\n Yet thro' thee have I lost my kinsman, tho' his ending was\n fit and fair,\n For a knightly joust hath slain him who thy token in strife\n would bear!\n And these princes here, his comrades, their heartfelt grief\n they show,\n As in funeral train their shield's-breadth do they turn to\n the earth below, 530\n For thus hath great sorrow taught them--In this guise do they\n knightly deeds,\n Heavy-hearted that he, my cousin, serveth no more for true\n love's meed!'\n\n He hath won him another heart-grief as his brother's death is\n told,\n And he spake aloud in his sorrow, 'Now mine anchor hath found\n its hold\n And its haven in bitter rueing,' and the badge did he lay\n aside, 535\n And his grief taught him bitter anguish, and aloud the hero\n cried,\n 'Galoes of Anjou! henceforward shall never a man deny\n That on earth ne'er was born thine equal for manhood and\n courtesy,\n And the fruit of a free hand knightly from thine heart did it\n bloom amain.\n Ah! woe is me for thy goodness!' then to Kailet he spake\n again, 540\n 'How goeth it with Schoett\u00e8, my mother, of joy bereft?'\n 'So that God hath had pity on her! When Gandein this life had\n left,\n And dead was Galoes thy brother, and thou wert not by her\n side,\n And she saw thee no more, then death brake her heart, and she\n too hath died!'\n\n Then out quoth the Gascon Hardeiss, 'Turn thy will to a manly\n mien, 545\n Thou shalt mourn but in fitting measure if true manhood thine\n own hath been!'\n But too great was the load of his sorrow, and the tears as a\n flood must flow\n From his eyes--Then all things he ordered that the knights a\n fair rest might know,\n And he went where he saw his chamber, of samite the little\n tent,\n And in grief and sore lamentation the hours of the night he\n spent. 550\n\n When there dawned another morning the knights together came,\n The inner host and the outer, all who thought there to win\n them fame;\n Were they young or old, were they cowardly or brave, they\n fought not that day.\n And the light grew to middle morning: yet so worn were they\n with the fray,\n And the horses so spent with spurring, that the knights in\n battle tried 555\n Were yet by weariness vanquished--Then the queen herself\n would ride,\n And the valiant men from the open would she bring to the town\n again,\n And the best of the knights within there she bade ride to the\n Leo-plain;\n And straightway they did her bidding, and they rode in their\n knightly ranks,\n And they came ere the Mass was ended to the sad king of\n Zassamank. 560\n\n Then the benediction spoken, Herzeleide the queen she came,\n And e'en as the folk upheld her, so she laid to the knight\n her claim:\n Then he spake, 'A wife have I Lady, and than life shall she\n be more dear,\n Yea, and e'en if I were without her thou another tale\n shouldst hear\n That afar should drive me from thee, if men here shall list\n my right!' 565\n But the queen she looked upon him, and she spake to the\n gallant knight:\n\n 'Thou shalt leave thy Moorish lady for my love; stronger far\n shall be\n The blessing that baptism giveth! From heathendom set thee\n free,\n And wed me in Christian marriage, since my heart for thy love\n doth yearn.\n Or say shall the French queen's message to my shame and my\n sorrow turn? 570\n Sweet words did they speak her people, and thou heardest them\n to the end!'\n 'Yea, she is in truth my lady. When I back to Anjou must\n wend,\n Then fair counsels and courteous customs with me from her\n land I brought;\n Yea, even to-day doth she help me whom from childhood to man\n she taught.\n She hath fled all that mars a woman--We were children then,\n she and I, 575\n Yet gladly we saw each other in the days that are long gone\n by!\n The noble queen Anflis\u00e9, in true womanhood hath she share,\n From her lands a goodly income she gave me, that lady fair,\n (In those days was I still a poor man), yet I took it right\n willingly,\n As a poor man thou still shalt count me, and Lady, shalt pity\n me, 580\n He is dead, my gallant brother--Of thy courtesy press me not,\n Turn thy love where thou findest gladness, for sorrow is aye\n my lot!'\n\n 'Nay, let me not longer sorrow; how wilt thou deny my claim?'\n 'Thy question I'll gladly answer, here a _Tourney_ thou didst\n proclaim,\n That Tourney hath not been holden, as many shall witness\n bear' 585\n 'For the vesper-play hath marred it! The knights who had\n foughten there\n So well have they tamed their ardour that the Tourney hath\n come to naught,'\n 'I did but defend thy city with others that bravely fought;\n Thou shouldst force me not to withstand thee, here have\n others done more than I,\n Mine the greeting that _all_ may claim here, other right\n would I still deny!' 590\n\n Then, so hath the venture told me, they chose them, both man\n and maid,\n A judge o'er the claim of the lady, and their cause they\n before him laid,\n And it drew near to middle morning, and thus did the verdict\n run,\n 'What knight hath bound on his helmet, and hath hither for\n conflict come,\n And hath fought, and the prize hath holden, then that knight\n he shall wed the queen.' 595\n And unto the judgment spoken the knights gave consent I ween.\n Spake the queen, 'Mine thou art, and I'll yield thee fair\n service thy love to gain,\n And will give thee of joy such portion that thy life shall be\n free of pain!'\n\n And yet bare he grief and sorrow--Now the April sun was o'er,\n And had left behind a token in the garment the meadow bore, 600\n With short green grass was it covered, so that coward hearts\n waxed bold,\n And won afresh high courage; and the trees did their buds\n unfold\n In the soft sweet air of the May-tide, and he came of the\n fairy race\n That aye loveth, or sweet love seeketh, and his friend she\n would show him grace.\n\n Then he looked on Queen Herzeleide, and he spake to her\n courteously, 605\n 'If in joy we would live, O Lady, then my warder thou shalt\n not be,\n When loosed from the bonds of sorrow, for knighthood my heart\n is fain;\n If thou holdest me back from Tourney I may practise such\n wiles again\n As of old when I fled from the lady whom I won with mine own\n right hand;\n When from strife she would fain have kept me I fled from her\n folk and land!' 610\n Then she spake, 'Set what bonds thou willest, by thy word\n will I still abide.'\n 'Many spears would I break asunder, and each month would to\n Tourney ride,\n Thou shalt murmur not O Lady when such knightly joust I'ld\n run!'\n This she sware, so the tale was told me, and the maid and her\n lands he won.\n The three pages of Queen Anflis\u00e9 and her chaplain were nigh\n at hand, 615\n As the judgment was sealed and spoken they must hearken and\n understand,\n And he spake to the knight in secret, 'To my lady this tale\n was told\n How at Patelamunt thy valour did the guerdon of victory hold,\n And that there two kingdoms served thee--And she too hath\n lands I trow,\n And she thinketh _herself_ to give thee, and riches and gold\n enow!' 620\n\n 'As knighthood of old she taught me so must I hold fast alway\n By the strength of the knightly order, and the rule of the\n shield obey.\n Thro' her my shield have I won me, else perchance I had worn\n it not,\n Here doth knightly verdict bind me, be sorrow or joy my lot.\n Go ye homeward, and bear my service, her knight will I ever\n be, 625\n And for her is my deepest sorrow tho' all crowns were\n awaiting me!'\n Then he proffered to them of his riches, but his gifts did\n they cast aside.\n Yet was she not shamed their lady, tho' homeward they needs\n must ride!\n And they craved not leave, but they rode thence, as in anger\n ye oft shall find,\n And the princes' sons, her pages, well-nigh did they weep\n them blind. 630\n\n They who bare their shields inverted their friends spake to\n them this word,\n 'The queen, fair Herzeleide, hath the Angevin for her lord.'\n 'Say, who from Anjou hath fought here? Our lord is, alas,\n elsewhere;\n He seeketh him fame 'gainst the heathen, and grief for his\n sake we bear!'\n 'He who shall be here the victor, who hath smitten full many\n a knight, 635\n He who smote and pierced so fiercely, he who bare on his helm\n of light\n An anchor rare and costly, that knight is the knight we mean,\n And King Kailet he spake his title, Gamuret Angevin--I ween\n Good fortune doth here befall him!' Then swift to their\n steeds they sprung,\n And their raiment was wet with the tear-drops that grief from\n their eye-lids wrung, 640\n When they came where their lord was seated they gave him a\n welcome fair,\n And he in his turn would greet them, and sorrow and joy were\n there.\n\n Then he kissed his knights so faithful, and spake, 'Ye no\n more shall make\n Such measureless moan for my brother, his place I with ye\n will take.\n Turn your shields again as befits them, and as men who would\n joyful fare; 645\n My anchor hath struck its haven; my father's arms I'll bear,\n For the anchor it is a symbol that befitteth a wandering\n knight,\n He who willeth may take and wear it. I must rule my life\n aright\n As now shall become my station: I am rich now, when shall I\n be\n The lord of this folk? For my sorrow it worketh but ill to\n me. 650\n Queen Herzeleide, help me that thou and I may pray\n The kings that are here and princes for my service awhile to\n stay,\n Till thou unto me hast yielded that which love from true love\n may crave!'\n Thus both of them made petition, and the heroes their promise\n gave.\n\n Then each one went to his chamber, and the queen to her\n knight spake low, 655\n 'Now yield thyself to my tending, and a hidden way I'll\n show!'\n For his guests did they care as fitting tho' the host was no\n longer there,\n The folk they were all together, but the knight he alone must\n fare\n Save for two of his pages only--Then the queen and her\n maidens bright\n They led him where gladness waited, and his sorrow was put to\n flight, 660\n And regret was o'erthrown and vanquished--And his heart it\n waxed high and brave\n As is ever the lot of lovers! and her maidenhood she gave\n The queen, fair Herzeleide: nor their lips did they think to\n spare,\n But close did they cling in kisses; grief was conquered by\n joy so fair!\n\n Then courteous deeds were begun there; for free were his\n captives set, 665\n And the Kings Hardeiss and Kailet were made friends by\n Gamuret.\n And such marriage feast was holden that he who had proudly\n thought\n Hereafter to hold such another much riches thereto had\n brought.\n For this did Gamuret purpose, his wealth he would little\n spare,\n But Arabian gold did he scatter mid the poor knights; and\n jewels rare 670\n Did he give to the kings and princes who were there with the\n host I ween;\n And glad were the wandering players, for rich gifts had their\n portion been.\n\n Let them ride whom he there had feasted, from the Angevin\n leave they prayed.\n Then the panther the badge of his father on his shield they\n in sable laid;\n And a small white silken garment, a shift that the queen did\n wear, 675\n That had touched her naked body who now was his wife so fair,\n This should be his corslet's cover. And of foemen it saw\n eighteen\n Pierced thro' and hewn with sword-blade ere he parted from\n her his queen,\n And aye as her love came homeward on her body that shift she\n drew:\n And many a shield had he shattered; and their love it waxed\n strong and true. 680\n\n And honour enow was his portion ere his manly courage bore\n The knight o'er the seas to conflict, for his journey I\n sorrow sore.\n For there came unto him true tidings, how the Baruch, his\n lord of old,\n Was beset by mighty foemen, by Babylon's princes bold:\n And the one he was called Ipomidon, and Pompey his brother's\n name 685\n (For so hath the venture told me), a proud man of warlike\n fame.\n ('Twas not he whom Julius C\u00e6sar had driven from Rome of\n yore).\n His uncle was Nebuchadnezzar, who in books found the lying\n lore\n That he himself should a god be, (o'er this would our folk\n make sport)\n And of noble race these brothers, nor of strength nor of gold\n spared aught. 690\n From Ninus they came who was ruler ere ever Bagdad might be,\n Nineveh did he found--Now an insult and a shame vexed them\n bitterly,\n The Baruch as vassals claimed them--So the combat was won and\n lost,\n And bravely the heroes battled, and on each side they paid\n the cost.\n Thus Gamuret sailed the water, and aid to the Baruch brought, 695\n And gladly he bade him welcome; tho' I weep that that land he\n sought!\n\n How it chanced there, how went the conflict, gain or loss,\n how the thing might be\n Naught of that knew Queen Herzeleide; and bright as the sun\n was she,\n And her form it was fair to look on, and both riches had she\n and youth,\n And more than too much her gladness! I think me in very truth 700\n She had sped past the goal of all wishes--And on wisdom her\n heart was set,\n And she won from the whole world favour; her fair deeds with\n fair guerdon met,\n And all men praised Herzeleide, the queen, as both fair and\n true,\n And the queen of three kingdoms was she, of Waleis and fair\n Anjou,\n Of these twain was she aye the ruler; and beside them in far\n Norgals 705\n Did she bear the crown and sceptre, in the city of\n Kingrivals.\n And so dear did she hold her husband, if never a maid might\n win\n So gallant a man, what recked she? She counted it not for\n sin.\n\n As for half a year he was absent she looked for his coming\n sure,\n For but in the thought of that meeting might the life of the\n queen endure. 710\n Then brake the sword of her gladness thro' the midst of the\n hilt in twain,\n Ah me! and alas! for her mourning, that goodness should bear\n such pain\n And faith ever waken sorrow! Yea, so doth it run alway\n With the life of men, and to-morrow must they mourn who\n rejoice to-day!\n\n So it chanced that the queen one noontide in a restless\n slumber lay, 715\n 'Twas as if with a start she wakened and by lightning was\n borne away,\n And towards the clouds it bare her, and they smote her with\n mighty force,\n The fiery bolts of Heaven, as they sped on their downward\n course,\n And sparks sprang from her floating tresses mid the fire of\n the circling spheres,\n And the thunder crashed loud around her, and the rain-drops\n were burning tears. 720\n\n For a little space was she conscious, then a grip on her\n right hand fell,\n And, lo! it was changed, the vision, and wondrous things\n befell;\n For then did she nurse a dragon, that forth from her body\n sprung,\n And its dragon life to nourish awhile at her breast it hung,\n Then it fled from her sight so swiftly she might look on it\n never more: 725\n And her heart it brake for the anguish, and the terror and\n grief she bore.\n\n And never methinks a woman in slumber such woe hath seen,\n But now had she been so joyful, alas! all was changed I ween,\n And sorrow should be her portion, and her ill it waxed long\n and wide,\n And the shadow of coming sorrow did still on her heart abide. 730\n\n Then she did what afore she could not, for the terror that on\n her lay,\n She stretched her limbs in her slumber, and moaned in her\n grief alway,\n And she cried aloud on her people; and many a maid sat by\n And they sprang to her side at her summons, and wakened her\n speedily.\n\n Then Tampaneis he came riding, of her husband's squires the\n chief, 735\n And many a page was with him, and joy's goal was o'erpassed\n in grief,\n And they cried, 'He was dead, their master!' And her senses\n forsook the queen,\n And she fell aback in her anguish--And the knights spake,\n 'How hath this been?\n Hath our lord been slain in his harness, who ever was armed\n so well?'\n And tho' sorely the squire must sorrow, to the heroes the\n tale he'ld tell: 740\n 'No long life should he have, my master! His helm he put off\n awhile,\n The heat thereto constrained him--'twas accursed heathen\n guile\n That stole him from us, our hero--A knight took a he-goats\n blood,\n And from a long glass he poured it on the helmet of diamond\n good,\n And softer than sponge grew the diamond. May He Whom as Lamb\n they show 745\n With the Cross in His hold, have mercy on the deeds that are\n wrought below!'\n\n 'Then when one host met the other: Ah! that was indeed a\n fight,\n And the knights who were with the Baruch they fought all as\n men of might,\n And there in the field by Bagdad full many a shield was\n pierced,\n As they flew each one on the other, and they mingled in\n charges fierce, 750\n And banner was mixed with banner, many fell who had bravely\n fought,\n And my lord's hand it did such wonders that his foemen became\n as nought,\n But Ipomidon he came riding, and with death would reward the\n knight,\n And he smote him down, and I think me many thousands they saw\n that sight.'\n\n 'For my master, free from falsehood, rode against\n Alexandria's king, 755\n But, alas! for the guile of the heathen, this joust but his\n death should bring,\n For the spear cut sheer thro' the helmet, and it pierced\n thro' my master's brain\n (In his head did they find the splinters), yet the hero still\n held the rein,\n And dying he rode from the combat, o'er a wide plain his way\n he'ld take,\n And his chaplain he knelt above him, and in few words his\n shrift he spake. 760\n And he sent here the shift and the spear-blade that hath\n robbed us of our friend,\n He died free from sin--us his servants he did to the queen\n commend!'\n\n 'At Bagdad was the hero buried, and the Baruch the cost would\n pay,\n With gold is it fair to look on, and rich is the tomb alway;\n And many a costly jewel doth gleam where he lies at rest, 765\n And embalmed was the fair young body (sad was many a faithful\n breast);\n And the grave-stone it is a ruby, and thro' it he shineth\n clear,\n And they granted us as with martyrs, the cross o'er his tomb\n to rear,--\n For as Christ by His death hath freed us, and to comfort that\n soul so brave,\n And for shelter we raised the symbol--And the Baruch the cost\n he gave. 770\n For the cross was of emerald wroughten: heathen counsel we\n asked it not,\n For they know not the Cross, nor the blessing that Christ's\n death won for us I wot!\n And the heathen they pray unto him as if he were a god in\n truth,\n Nor they do it the Cross to honour, nor hath Baptism taught\n them ruth\n (Tho' it looseneth _us_ from Hell's fetters when the\n uttermost day shall dawn), 775\n But his knightly faith and honour, who leaveth us here\n forlorn,\n Have wrought him a place in Heaven where he shineth with\n Heaven's light,\n And true penitence and confession--for falsehood e'er fled\n that knight.'\n\n 'And there in his diamond helmet an epitaph did they grave,\n And fast to the cross they fixed it o'er the tomb of that\n hero brave, 780\n And thus do they run the letters: '(_Through this helmet a\n joust hath slain)\n This hero who bare all manhood, and_ Gamuret _was his name,\n As king did he rule o'er three kingdoms, in each land the\n Crown he wore\n Whom mighty princes followed--Anjou's land this hero bore,\n And he lost his life for the Baruch at the city of Bagdad\n fair._ 785\n _And so high did it soar, his honour, that no knight may with\n him compare,\n Howe'er ye may test their dealings. Nor is he of woman born,\n (I mean of the knightly order) to whose hand he his strength\n had sworn.\n But help and true manly counsel to his friends did he\n steadfast give;\n And thro' women much grief he suffered, for he would in their\n favour live. 790\n Baptized was he as a Christian tho' Saracens mourn him yet,\n (This is truth and no lie)--All his lifetime since his years\n were on wisdom set\n His strength strove for fame and honour, till he fell in his\n knightly pride,\n Wish him bliss who here lieth buried! 'Twas by treason's hand\n he died!_'\n\n So spake the squire, and the Waleis who heard it must weep\n full sore, 795\n Cause hast they enow for sorrow! A living child she bore\n Who of men was left unaided, Herzeleide the gracious queen,\n With death the mother battled: her maidens were crazed I\n ween,\n Since they thought not to help their lady, for within her\n womb she bare\n Him who should be flower of all knighthood, if death did not\n claim him there. 800\n Then there came a wise man ancient to weep with his lady's\n grief,\n And he saw how with death she struggled, and he brought to\n her swift relief;\n For he forced her teeth asunder, and betwixt her lips they\n pour\n Water, and at their tending her senses they came once more.\n Then she spake, and aloud she mourned him, 'My heart's\n dearest, Ah! where is he? 805\n For in sooth my heart's deepest gladness was in Gamuret's\n chivalry,\n Yet his valour of this hath robbed me--Now his _mother_ am I\n and _wife_,\n Tho' far younger was I, for within me do I carry his flesh\n and life;\n The love that we bore to each other hath been of such flower\n the root,\n And if God shall in truth be faithful, He withholdeth not\n here the fruit. 810\n Already too sore my sorrow for my husband so proud and brave,\n What ill death hath wrought upon me! Her love never woman\n gave,\n But his heart it rejoiced in her gladness, and sad for her\n grief was he,\n Thus his true heart it gave him counsel who was aye from all\n falsehood free.'\n\n Now hearken yet more the story how the noble queen must\n mourn, 815\n Within her arms would she hold him, her child who was yet\n unborn,\n And she spake, 'Now God send me safely the child of my hero\n fair,\n For this is my heart's petition; God keep me from dark\n despair,\n 'Twere Gamuret's second slaying if I thought myself to slay\n While I bear of his love the token who was faithful to me\n alway!' 820\n\n Then careless of who might see her, the robe from her neck\n she tore,\n And her fair white breasts she tended with the wisdom of\n mother-lore,\n To her rosy lips she pressed them, 'Ah, thou food that shall\n feed my son,\n He hath sent thee before his coming who life from my life\n hath won!'\n\n And the queen it nothing vexed her that above her heart it\n lay 825\n The milk that her child should nourish, and softly she spake\n alway,\n 'Twas true love that brought thee hither, if I yet unbaptized\n should be\n From thee had I won my baptism, and the tears which shall\n flow so free,\n And openly and in secret will I mourn for my husband dear!'\n Then the shift with his life-blood crimsoned she bade them to\n bring anear, 830\n (Thus clad in the Baruch's army had Gamuret lost his life,\n For he chose him a gallant ending in the turmoil and stress\n of strife),\n And then for the spear she prayed them wherewith was her\n husband slain,\n From Nineveh's Prince Ipomidon such guerdon he needs must\n gain.\n And tho' tattered and hewn to pieces yet the queen fain the\n shift would wear, 835\n As aforetime had been her custom when her lord did from\n Tourney fare,\n But her maidens who stood around her they took it from out\n her hand,\n And they carried them to the Minster, the highest from out\n her land,\n And the spear and the blood they buried as men bury a hero\n dead,\n And sorrow and bitter mourning thro' Gamuret's kingdom\n spread. 840\n\n And when fourteen days were ended a babe lay the queen\n beside,\n 'Twas a son, and so great and goodly that the mother had\n well-nigh died.\n\n Now 'tis cast the die of the venture, and here doth my tale\n begin,\n For now is he born who henceforward this song for his own\n shall win.\n And now have ye heard the story of his father, his love and\n grief, 845\n Of his gallant life, and the treason that ended its span so\n brief;\n And ye know whence he came, the hero of this tale, and how\n for long\n He was hidden from deeds of knighthood, till his youth it\n waxed bold and strong.\n\n When the queen found sight and hearing she was fain on her\n child to look,\n And her maidens they bare him to her and the babe in her arms\n she took; 850\n And she saw his limbs soft rounded, and she knew she had born\n a son,\n And her maidens with her were joyful that the earth had a\n man-child won.\n (As he bare of a man the body, so manly was he of heart,\n As a smith did he wield the sword-blade till fire from the\n helm would start)\n And no joy did she know, the mother, save ever her babe to\n kiss, 855\n And with soft words she spake to him ever, '_Bon fils, Cher\n fils, Beau fils._'\n\n And e'en as herself she bare him, so herself she his nurse\n would be,\n At his mother's breast was he nourished who was ever from\n falsehood free.\n And she thought she had won her husband by her prayers to her\n arms again,\n She all folly forsook, and meekness and truth in her heart\n did reign. 860\n\n And musing spake Herzeleide, 'The queen of Heaven high\n Gave her breast to the dear Lord Jesu Who a bitter death\n would die\n As Man on the cross for man's sake, for thus did His love\n begin:\n Who thinketh light of His anger his soul's peace shall hardly\n win,\n Tho' he else were brave man and worthy--and this tale do I\n know for true!' 865\n Then the queen of the land she bathed her in heart sorrow's\n bitter dew,\n And her eyes on the babe rained tear-drops as soft in her\n arms it lay,\n For hers was the way of women, where a true heart holdeth\n sway;\n She could laugh and weep together, her heart joyed for her\n baby's birth,\n Yet the ford of her bitter sorrow had drowned in short space\n her mirth. 870\n\n\n\n\nBOOK III\n\nGURNEMANZ\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nIn the Introduction the poet speaks of the honour in which he\n holds\nall true women, though he be wroth with one who has wronged him.\n Yet,\nthough women shall count him their friend, he would fain that\n they\nshould honour him for his knightly deeds, rather than for this\n his song.\n\nIn Book III. he tells of the sorrow and the faith of Queen\n Herzeleide;\nof Parzival's childhood; of his meeting with the knights; of his\nfaring forth to seek knighthood from King Arthur; and of the\n death\nof Herzeleide. How Parzival met with Jeschut\u00e9, and robbed her of\n her\ntoken, and of the wrath of her husband Orilus. Of the sorrow of\n Sigun\u00e9,\nand how Parzival learnt his name and his lineage. How Parzival\n met with\nthe Red Knight and bare his challenge to the court of King\n Arthur, and\nhow he craved a boon of the king. Of the shaming of Kunnewaar\u00e9;\n and of\nthe death of the Red Knight. How Parzival came to Gurnemanz of\n Graharz\nand was cured by him of his folly and taught all knightly wisdom,\n and\nhow he rode forth from the land of Graharz.\n\n BOOK III\n\n GURNEMANZ\n\n Is there ever a singer among you, who singeth a sweeter song\n Of the favour and love of women, I hold not he does me wrong!\n Full fain am I still to hearken to aught that may give them\n joy,\n But to one alone among women my homage I still deny.\n Nay, ever the fire of my anger doth kindle and flame anew, 5\n And the sorrow her treason wrought me, it grieveth me still I\n trow!\n I, whom men have named the singer, I, Wolfram of Eschenbach,\n The words that against a woman I spake, I may ne'er take\n back.\n Nay, I hold fast my wrath for ever, and clasp it closer\n still,\n As I think how in soul and body alike hath she wrought me\n ill! 10\n How can I do aught but hate her, till death setteth seal on\n life?\n Yet it grieveth me sore that others should mingle in this our\n strife;\n\n It grieveth me sore that maidens should say, as they name my\n name,\n 'Forsooth he hath shamed all women, let it be unto him for\n shame!'\n Nay, then, an they reckon for evil the words that in grief I\n spake, 15\n I will speak them no more for ever, though my heart should in\n silence break!\n But let them beware in their anger, these warlike maidens\n fair,\n How they stir from his eyrie the eagle, rouse the lion from\n his lair!\n Full well I know how to defend me, full well know I what\n beseems\n The maid of a knight's devotion, the maid of the poet's\n dreams! 20\n Let a maiden be steadfast-hearted, pure and true in word and\n deed,\n And her champion true she'll find me, comes there ever an\n hour of need.\n\n I hold his renown waxeth slowly, and halteth upon the road,\n Who, for wrong at the hand of one woman, shall slander all\n womanhood:\n But if any will look upon me, and hearken to what I sing, 25\n Of a sooth I will not deceive them, though my tale\n over-strange may ring.\n Born was I unto the bearing of knightly shield and spear,\n And though sweet be the song of the singer, I hold it not all\n too dear:\n I had rather my love should love me for my deeds of high\n renown,\n Than because in the hall of the Wartburg they should crown me\n with music's crown! 30\n With the shield and the spear of knighthood will I seek for a\n knight's reward,\n Nor charm, with the harp of the singer, what I fail\u00e8d to win\n with the sword!\n\n Nor in praise of fair women only runs this tale that I have\n to tell,\n Full many strange deeds it holdeth, and marvels that once\n befell\n Ere the course of this wondrous venture be trac\u00e8d unto its\n end; 35\n Yet he who heareth shall reckon, if he fain would account me\n friend,\n That this is no book he readeth, for no maker of books am I!\n But a singer of strange adventures, and of knightly prowess\n high:\n Stripped bare will I be of all honour, naked and reft of\n fame,\n Ere I trust my renown unto letters, and give to a book my\n name! 40\n\n It vexes me, soul and body, that so many should bear the name\n And speak with the tongue of women, who reck not of woman's\n fame;\n That those who have known no falsehood, and those who are\n swift to fall,\n Should carry one name in common, be counted as sisters all!\n A truth that has faltered never, a faith that has aye\n withstood, 45\n Is the only glory of woman, the crown of her womanhood!\n\n Many will say, 'What good thing can come out of poverty?'\n She who for love endures it, she 'scapeth Hell thereby,\n And, in the kingdom of Heaven, receiveth a hundredfold\n For all she has borne for love's sake, new joys for her\n sorrows old! 50\n Not one have I known in my lifetime, I count it a bitter\n truth,\n Neither a man nor a maiden, who the joy and the pride of\n youth,\n And all earth's riches and honour, will leave as a worthless\n thing\n If weighed with the glory of Heaven, and the service of\n Heaven's King!\n But Queen Herzeleide only, she left her fair estate, 55\n In her youth of all joy bereav\u00e8d, with sorrow afar to mate.\n So holy was she and gentle, so faithful and pure of mind,\n That no tongue spake a word against her, and no eye a fault\n could find.\n Sunlight or shadow, what recked she? the day was to her as\n night,\n For her heart was the home of sorrow, and dead was the\n world's delight. 60\n And in sorrow and grief she wandered, till she came to\n Soltan\u00e8's strand,\n A woodland wild and lonely afar from her native land:\n Fair flowers might bloom and blossom without, on the sunlit\n plain,\n And be woven in rosy chaplets, but for her they would bloom\n in vain!\n And there, mid the woodland shadows, she hid with Gamuret's\n son, 65\n For she willed that her life's last treasure be revealed unto\n none:\n So she called her folk around her, (who toiled in the upland\n field\n With oxen and plough, that the furrows their daily bread\n might yield,)\n And she charged them all, by the service which she as their\n queen might claim,\n That they hide from the boy his birthright and the fame of\n his father's name. 70\n 'For the knightly deeds ye vaunt of, and the glory and pride\n of war,\n Have wrought me but heart's affliction, and trouble and\n anguish sore,\n So, lest I yet more should suffer, I pray you, my servants\n dear,\n That ye speak no word of knighthood, lest my son perchance\n should hear!'\n\n Then full sore were her people griev\u00e8d, for they held it an\n evil thing, 75\n And a training that ill beseem\u00e8d the son of a mighty king.\n But his mother kept him hidden in the woodland valleys wild,\n Nor thought in her love and sorrow how she wronged the kingly\n child:\n No knightly weapon she gave him, save such as in childish\n play\n He wrought himself from the bushes that grew on his lonely\n way, 80\n A bow and arrows he made him, and with these, in thoughtless\n glee,\n He shot at the birds as they carolled o'erhead in the leafy\n tree.\n\n But when the feathered songster of the woods at his feet lay\n dead,\n In wonder and dumb amazement he bowed down his golden head,\n And in childish wrath and sorrow tore the locks of his sunny\n hair; 85\n (For I wot well of all earth's children was never a child so\n fair\n As this boy, who afar in the desert from the haunts of\n mankind did dwell,\n Who bathed in the mountain streamlet, and roamed o'er the\n rock-strewn fell!)\n Then he thought him well how the music, which his hand had\n for ever stilled,\n Had thrilled his soul with its sweetness, and his heart was\n with sorrow filled, 90\n And the ready tears of childhood flowed forth from their\n fountains free\n As he ran to his mother weeping, and bowed him beside her\n knee.\n 'What aileth thee child?' quoth the mother, 'but now wast\n thou gay and glad'--\n But, childlike, he gave no answer, scarce wist he what made\n him sad!\n\n But Queen Herzeleide watched him through the sunny summer\n days, 95\n Till beneath a tree she saw him stand silent, with upturned\n gaze,\n And a look of joyful rapture in the radiant childish eyes,\n As he listed the bird, that, soaring, sang clear thro' the\n cloudless skies;\n And the mother's heart was troubled, and her wrath waxed to\n fever heat,\n She would brook in his love no rival--not even God's singers\n sweet! 100\n So she sent forth in haste her servants, with many a cunning\n snare\n To capture the singers whose music made joyful the woodlands\n fair.\n Then, alas! for the birds, who struggled in the cruel snare\n in vain,\n Yet some few burst their bonds, and joyful, brake forth into\n song again!\n\n Then the boy spake,'Now sweet my mother, why trouble the\n birds so sore? 105\n Forsooth they can ne'er have harmed thee, ah, leave them in\n peace once more!'\n And his mother kissed him gently, 'Perchance I have wrought a\n wrong,\n Of a truth, the dear God who made them, He gave unto them\n their song,\n And I would not that one of his creatures should sorrow\n because of me.'\n But the boy looked up in wonder, 'God, Mother? Who may God\n be?' 110\n 'My son, He is light beyond all light, brighter than summer's\n day,\n And He bare a Man's Face, that we men might look on His Face\n alway!\n Art thou ever in need of succour? call on Him in thine hour\n of ill,\n And be sure He will fail thee never, but will hear thee, and\n help thee still.\n Yet one there is dwelleth in darkness, and I wot men may fear\n him well, 115\n For his home is the house of falsehood, and his kingdom the\n realm of Hell!\n Turn thy mind away from him ever, nor waver betwixt the\n twain,\n For he who doubteth, his labour shall ever be wrought in\n vain.'\n\n Thus his mother read him the riddle, the myst'ry of day and\n night,\n The dread and the doom of darkness, and the glory and grace\n of light! 120\n Then javelin in hand he hastened thro' the forest pathways\n wild,\n And the deer sprang up from their thickets, and fled from the\n dauntless child;\n But clear-eyed and eager-footed he hastened upon their track,\n And full oft with a horn\u00e8d trophy, at even he hied him back.\n Little cared he for rain or sunshine, summer's storm or\n winter's snow, 125\n And daily in strength and beauty all men might behold him\n grow;\n Till at length no beast so mighty thro' the forest wild did\n roam,\n If it fell 'neath his shaft, unaided, on his shoulder he bore\n it home!\n\n It chanced thro' a woodland thicket one morn as he took his\n way,\n And brake from o'erhanging bushes full many a leafy spray, 130\n That a pathway steep and winding rose sharply his track\n anear,\n And the distant beat of horse-hoofs fell strange on his\n wondering ear.\n Then the boy grasped his javelin firmly and thought what the\n sound might be;\n 'Perchance 'tis the devil cometh! Well, I care not if it be\n he!\n Methinks I can still withstand him, be he never so fierce and\n grim, 135\n Of a truth my lady mother she is o'er-much afraid of _him_!\n\n As he stood there for combat ready, behold, in the morning\n light,\n Three knights rode into the clearing, in glittering armour\n bright;\n From head to foot were they arm\u00e8d, each one on his gallant\n steed,\n And the lad as he saw their glory thought each one a god\n indeed! 140\n No longer he stood defiant, but knelt low upon his knee,\n And cried, 'God, Who helpest all men, I pray Thee have\n thought for me!'\n\n Then wroth was the foremost rider as the lad barred his\n further way,\n And he spake out, 'This stupid _Waleis_ will hinder our work\n to-day!'\n (Now here would I give to the Waleis the fame we Bavarians\n hold; 145\n They are duller than e'en our people, yet manly in strife and\n bold.\n And in sooth were one born in both countries such marvel of\n strength and skill\n Would he hide in himself that I think me their fame he might\n well fulfil!)\n\n Then there rode swift with hanging bridle, in costly harness\n dight,\n With plumed and jewelled helmet another gallant knight; 150\n Swiftly he came as thirsting to challenge in mortal fight\n The foe who sped far before him, who had done him a sore\n despite;\n For two knights from out his kingdom a maiden had borne away,\n And he held it a deed most shameful and one he must needs\n repay;\n For the maiden's sorrow grieved him, and fain would he ease\n her pain: 155\n (And the three knights who rode before him were part of his\n warlike train.)\n He rode a Spanish war-horse, and his shield had fierce\n conflict seen,\n And Karnachkarnanz did they call him (he was Ulterleg's count\n I ween).\n Then he cried to his knights, 'Why loiter? who barreth our\n onward way?'\n And straight on the lad did he ride there, who deemed him a\n god alway, 160\n For ne'er had he seen such glory; his harness shone fair with\n dew,\n And on either foot the stirrups with golden bells rang true.\n And their length was e'en as fitting, and with bells did each\n strong arm ring,\n As he stirred himself, or his sword-blade in battle aloft\n would swing.\n And the hero was swift in seeking the guerdon of knightly\n prize, 165\n So he rode here, the prince, and had decked him in a fair and\n wondrous wise.\n\n Then spake this flower of all knighthood, 'Say, boy, did they\n pass thy way?\n Two knights who have shamed their knighthood, nay, _robbers_\n I ween are they,\n For they bear a maiden with them, and she rideth against her\n will!'\n Yet the boy, tho' he spake with a man's tongue, as a god must\n account him still; 170\n For he thought how Queen Herzeleide had told him that God was\n Light\n And dwelleth in Light for ever; and so to his dazzled sight\n This knight, in his shining armour in the glow of the\n summer's day,\n Was the God of his mother's lesson, and he knelt him again to\n pray.\n\n But the prince he spake full gently, 'Fain am I to do God's\n will, 175\n And yet for no God I hold me, but a sinful mortal still.\n Nay, wert thou more clear of vision, thou wouldst see, an\n thou sawest aright,\n No Lord of the host of Heaven, but only a humble knight!'\n\n 'Knight?' quoth the boy in answer, 'Nay! I wot not what that\n may be,\n Is thy strength not of God, but of knighthood, then I would\n such were given to me!' 180\n 'Then wend thy way to King Arthur, an thou camest unto his\n court,\n A noble knight he would make thee, ashamed and afeared for\n naught,\n For sure, now I look upon thee, thou com'st of a noble\n strain.'\n Then his knights they turned their bridles, and gazed at the\n boy again.\n Full well might they look and wonder, at the work that God's\n Hand had wrought, 185\n For they say, who tell this story, that never could human\n thought\n Have dreamed of aught so goodly, since ever the world began,\n For of all men beloved by women, was there never so fair a\n man!\n Loud they laughed as the boy spake further, 'Good knight,\n what may these be?\n These rings that so close around thee, above and below I\n see.' 190\n Then he handled, with curious finger, the armour the knight\n did bear,\n His coat of mail close-link\u00e8d as behov\u00e8d a knight to wear;\n And he spake as he looked on the harness, 'My mother's\n maidens string\n On their chains, and around their fingers, full many a\n shining ring,\n But they cling not so close to each other as these rings that\n here I see, 195\n I cannot force them asunder, what good are they then to\n thee?'\n\n Then the prince drew forth from its scabbard his shining\n blade so keen,\n 'Now see, he who fights against me, must withstand my sword I\n ween,\n And lest he, on his part, should slay me, it is fit that with\n mail and shield,\n I ward me against his spear-thrusts, and the blows that his\n arm may wield.' 200\n Swiftly the lad made answer, 'Little good would it do the\n deer\n An their coats were e'en such as thine is, they would fall\n still beneath my spear.'\n\n Full wroth were the knights and scornful that their lord thus\n long had talked\n With this lad with the face of an angel, and the speech as of\n one distraught;\n Then the prince he spake full gently, 'God keep thee in His\n good grace, 205\n I would that my shield's bright mirror might show me as fair\n a face!\n Nay, an the Giver of all gifts but gave thee wit enow\n To match with a mien so goodly, full rich wert thou then I\n trow!\n May He keep all sorrow from thee, and thy life be a summer's\n day--'\n And with that he turned his bridle, and wended once more his\n way. 210\n Then adown the woodland pathway they rode, till they came\n full soon\n Where the carles of Queen Herzeleide toiled hard thro' the\n sultry noon:\n The fields must they plough and harrow, if a harvest they\n hoped to reap,\n So they goaded the patient oxen to their toil on the hillside\n steep.\n\n Then the prince he gave them 'Good-morrow,' and asked if\n there passed that way 215\n A maiden in need and sorrow? and they dared not to say him\n nay;\n But they answered him e'en as he prayed them, and they spake\n 'Yea, at early morn\n Two knights and a maiden passed here, and the maiden, she\n wept forlorn,\n And the knights as they rode beside her, spurred ever her\n flying steed.'\n Then the prince knew his foe, Meljakanz, and his wrath waxed\n hot indeed, 220\n On his tracks he followed swiftly, and they who this venture\n tell,\n Say he won back in fight the maiden ere the shadows of\n evening fell.\n\n But sore were the queen's folk troubled that the heroes had\n chanced that way,\n And they spake, 'God forbid that our queen's son fall in with\n these knights to-day!\n An he chances to light upon them in the pride of their\n warlike gear, 225\n It will anger full sore our mistress if by hap she the tale\n should hear:\n And ill-luck will it bring upon us that, ere ever the dawn of\n day,\n With us while his mother slumbered, to the woods he stole\n away!'\n Little recked the boy of their trouble as he chased the\n flying deer,\n And shouted in youthful gladness, as they fell before his\n spear 230\n Then homeward he sped to his mother, but ere he his tale\n might tell\n She was smitten with deadly terror, and low at his feet she\n fell.\n\n Then soon as Queen Herzeleide found hearing and speech once\n more\n Her boy was she fain to question tho' her heart it misgave\n her sore;\n 'Who spake to thee, son, of knighthood? What knowest thou of\n such-like rede?' 235\n 'I met in the woods, sweet mother, four men I deemed gods\n indeed,\n So light were they all and shining, God Himself ne'er could\n brighter be,\n And of knighthood they spake and King Arthur, who might well\n make a knight of me!'\n Then her sorrow of old-time wakened, and the queen in her\n heart she sought\n For some cunning wile of woman, that her boy from his will be\n brought. 240\n\n When the simple lad and gallant would crave from her hand a\n steed,\n Tho' heavy her heart, she bethought her in naught to gainsay\n his need,\n 'Yet not as he asks will I give him, no mother's gifts be\n mine,\n But ever the worst and the meanest that my skill may aye\n divine.'\n And she thought her, Queen Herzeleide, 'Many folk thro' the\n world shall fare 245\n Who love mocking--On his fair body my son shall a Fool's\n dress wear,\n Then sure when the mockers see him, and to scoff at his garb\n are fain,\n An he at their hands be smitten, then he cometh to me again!'\n Alas! for a woman's cunning, and the cruelty of mother's\n love,\n She chose from her stores a sackcloth, the coarsest that\n might be wove, 250\n And a garment of this she made him that should reach e'en\n unto his knee;\n For his sunny hair such covering as on fools men are wont to\n see;\n And instead of hose she bound him on his limbs so strong and\n fair\n Leggings of undressed calf-skin--And all wept who beheld him\n there.\n\n Then his mother with forethought bade him to tarry till\n morning light, 255\n 'Nor from hence would I have thee journey till my rede thou\n hast heard aright--\n _'Keep thou ever from paths untrodden and ford not the\n darkling stream,\n Where the waters flow clear and limpid, there safe is the\n ford I ween.\n And be ever fair and courteous, greet all men who pass thy\n way.\n If a wise man old and grey-headed would teach thee, as well\n he may,_ 260\n _All courteous ways and fitting, as his word so shall be thy\n deed,\n Nor wax wroth if by whiles he chide thee, but give to my\n words good heed.\n And one thing, my son, would I tell thee, canst thou win from\n a maid her ring\n And her greeting fair, thou shalt take them, and sorrow hath\n lost her sting!\n If a kiss from her lips she will give thee, and thine arms\n shall the maid enfold,_ 265\n _Be she pure and true thou art bless\u00e8d, and thy strength\n shall wax high and bold!'_\n\n 'And hearken my son, a proud knight, L\u00e4helein, do men call\n his name,\n From thy princes two lands hath wrested, else from them\n couldst thou tribute claim.\n And Waleis they are and Norgals--and one of thy princes\n brave,\n Turkentals, hath he slain, and thy people he hath smitten and\n doth enslave.' 270\n 'For such wrong will I vengeance, mother, if vengeance be\n here God's will,\n Be he never so strong with my javelin I think me to wound him\n still.'\n\n Then e'en at the daylight's dawning the boy would no longer\n stay,\n For the thought of King Arthur's glory yet heavy upon him\n lay.\n Then Queen Herzeleide kissed him, and she sped swift his\n steed behind, 275\n And the sorrow of sorrows smote her when her boy she no more\n might find.\n (Hence he rode and what heart rejoiceth?) Then the queen from\n all falsehood free,\n Fell low on the earth, and grief tare her till death must her\n portion be!\n Yet I wot that her death so faithful it hath saved her from\n pains of Hell,\n And to be of such son the mother, it repayeth all anguish\n well! 280\n Thus she, the root of all goodness whence humility's flower\n might blow,\n Herself on a pilgrimage wended that a goodly goal should\n know.\n Woe worth us! that none of their children should live still,\n to hand us down\n In these days when we look on falsehood their honour and fair\n renown.\n And therefore shall faithful women wish well to this lad so\n bold, 285\n Who rideth fair ventures seeking, whose journey ye now\n behold!\n\n Then the gallant lad rode onward on his way toward\n Briziljan's wood,\n And he came to a rippling streamlet, and a cock well might\n wade that flood!\n And flowers in the grass were blooming, yet so darkling ran\n the wave\n That the lad he thought not to ford it; but as wit the\n counsel gave, 290\n So he followed its course thro' the daylight, and he passed\n as he could the night,\n Till he saw once more the morning, and he came to a fair ford\n bright.\n On the further side was a meadow, and a tent decked the grass\n so green,\n And tall was the tent wide-spreading, and riches thereon were\n seen;\n 'Twas of samite of threefold colours, on the seams lay fair\n ribbons wide, 295\n And a leathern covering hung there, 'gainst the rain-cloud to\n guard its pride.\n\n ('Twas Duke Orilus of Lalande, whose wife he beneath it\n found--\n She lay there in peaceful slumber with riches happed fair\n around,\n A Duchess she was, well worthy the love of a gallant knight,\n And the venture it tells that Jeschut\u00e9 was the name of that\n lady bright) 300\n\n Softly the princess slumbered,--yet weapons of love she bore;\n A mouth so red and glowing, that a knight's heart had wounded\n sore,\n And e'en as she slept they parted asunder, her lips so\n bright,\n That the fire of love had kindled, (fit venture for gallant\n knight)\n And even as ivory snow-white, and little, and close the row 305\n Of the teeth that gleamed white betwixt them--methinks that a\n man were slow\n To use himself to such kisses from a mouth that all men might\n praise--\n I wot that so fair a guerdon but seldom hath crowned my days!\n\n A covering of richest sable over foot and knee was thrown,\n (For the heat she aside hath cast it, whom her lord had thus\n left alone) 310\n And her form it was fairly fashioned, and wrought by a\n skilful hand,\n Since 'twas God Himself in His wisdom who so fair a work had\n planned.\n And long was her arm and rounded: on her snow-white hand a\n ring\n Gleamed golden, and when he saw it the lad to her side did\n spring;\n For had not his mother told him such jewels were the guerdon\n fair 315\n That a knight well might crave? and he thought him he fain\n would such token bear!\n\n Then the lady awoke in terror as his clasp on her white arm\n fell,\n And gazed in startled wonder and wrath as beseemed her well;\n 'Who is it, who thus would shame me? Nay, sir, thou art all\n too free!\n Go, choose thee some fairer maiden, my favours are not for\n thee!' 320\n\n In vain might she weep and bewail her; he asked not her yea,\n or nay,\n But took from her lips unwilling the kiss she would fain\n gainsay;\n And the ring of gold from her finger with ungentle hand he'ld\n take,\n And the clasp that her shift had fastened from the garment he\n roughly brake:\n In vain were her tears and struggles, she was but a woman\n still, 325\n And his strength was to hers as an army, perforce must she do\n his will.\n Then the lad spake aloud, he hungered, from his hand was the\n lady free,\n And she quoth, 'Of a truth 'twere better thou shouldst not\n make meal of me!\n If thou wert but a little wiser thou wouldst choose thee some\n other meat,\n There stand bread and wine, and two game-birds, of them mayst\n thou freely eat, 330\n Methinks when my maiden brought them, 'twas scarcely of thee\n she thought!'\n Then he asked not where sat the hostess, but he ate e'en as\n hunger taught,\n And he drank his fill; and the lady she deemed all too long\n his stay,\n For she thought him bereft of his senses, and she wished he\n were well away,\n And for fear and shame the sweat-drops stood thickly upon her\n brow-- 335\n And she spake, 'Thou my ring shalt give me, and the clasp\n thou didst take but now,\n And get thee away, if he cometh, my husband, then shalt thou\n bear\n The weight of his wrath, and I think me thou wouldst then\n wish thyself elsewhere!'\n\n Quoth the noble youth, 'What care I how fierce thy lord's\n wrath may be?\n If my presence doth shame thine honour, then from hence will\n I swiftly flee.' 340\n And he stepped to the bedside boldly, and kissed her as there\n she lay,\n Tho' little it pleased the Duchess, and without leave he rode\n away;\n And he spake a word of parting as he vaulted upon his steed,\n 'God have thee in His safe keeping, so my mother she gave me\n rede.'\n\n Then the lad he was glad of his booty, and thus did he ride a\n while-- 345\n Methinks there was little lacking that from hence he had gone\n a mile,\n Ere he came of whom I would tell you: on the dew he the\n tracks might see\n Of one who had sought his lady--The tent-ropes displaced\n should be\n Where the lad thro' the grass had ridden; then the gallant\n Duke and proud\n Found his lady within in sorrow, and Orilus spake aloud, 350\n 'Alas! for the service done thee--for smitten and put to\n shame\n Is the crown of my knightly honour, since another thy love\n can claim!'\n Then little, alas! might it profit that with streaming eyes\n she swore\n No lover had she save her husband,--he would hearken her tale\n no more.\n\n Then she spake in her fear and anguish, 'Twas a _fool_, he\n who came to me, 355\n And yet tho' a fool, of all men I wot he may fairest be!\n My ring and my clasp gold-gleaming, he took them against my\n will!'\n 'Nay, I doubt not so well he pleased thee, thou didst grant\n him more favours still,'\n 'Now, God forbid! for his fool's garb and his javelin were\n e'en too near,\n It shameth us both, my husband, such words from thy lips to\n hear! 360\n Are _queens_ wont to love thus lowly, that thou speakest such\n words of me?\n Thou wrongest our royal breeding, when thou deemest such\n things may be!'\n\n Then the Duke spake, 'This shame, O lady! alone hast thou won\n from me,\n Thou dost call thyself _Queen_ no longer; tho' thy title\n shall _Duchess_ be\n Little good hath that bargain brought me--So bold shall my\n manhood be, 365\n That thy brother, King Lac's son Erec, for that cause beareth\n hate to thee:\n He is wise, and right well he knoweth that my fame so high\n shall stand\n That nothing shall stain mine honour, save at Prurein when\n his right hand\n In knightly joust once felled me, but that have I paid right\n well,\n In a joust at Karnant I smote him, and behind his steed he\n fell, 370\n And his pledge did he yield unto me,--thro' his shield I thy\n token bare,\n I thought not, my wife Jeschut\u00e9, with _another_ thy love to\n share!'\n 'Thou mayst also well assure thee that the son of King\n Gandein,\n Proud Galoes, once lay lifeless before this arm of mine;\n And thou thyself wast witness when the Knight Plihopleheri 375\n Rode swift in a joust against me, nor his strife it hath\n passed me by,\n My spear from the saddle thrust him that his charger he sat\n no more;\n Yea, great was the fame that I won me by my prowess in days\n of yore,\n Many knights have I borne from their chargers,--yet it\n profiteth not I ween,\n Nor outweigheth the bitter shaming that thro' thee hath my\n portion been!' 380\n\n And with reason good do they hate me, those knights of the\n Table Round,\n Since eight of their bravest champions have I borne unto the\n ground,\n And many fair maidens saw it, when at Kanedig fierce we\n fought\n For the hawk; there was I the victor, and my hand fame to\n thee hath brought\n And that didst thou see with King Arthur--At his court doth\n she dwell to-day, 385\n My sister, sweet Kunnewaar\u00e9, and grave is her mien alway,\n For her lips may not move to laughter till the day that her\n eyes shall light\n On him who of all shall be reckoned the fairest and bravest\n knight.\n Would he come unto me, that hero! Ah! then should a strife be\n seen\n As to-day in the early morning already my lot hath been. 390\n I have fought, and a prince hath suffered, for joust he\n toward me sped,\n But my spear-point so sorely smote him that he lay there\n before me, dead!'\n\n 'Well I know that in righteous anger for a lesser sin than\n thine\n Full many had slain the sinner, but I would not such deed\n were mine!\n For the service of knightly honour that to thee I had offered\n fair, 395\n Henceforth shalt thou know but lacking; nor thy need do I\n think to spare--\n No more with thy white arms circled in love and in peace I'll\n lie,\n Those golden days of love's glory have faded and passed us\n by,\n But pale be thy mouth so rosy, and tear-dimmed thy shining\n eyes,\n For joy shall be put far from thee, and thy heart's songs be\n turned to sighs!' 400\n\n Then sadly she looked upon him, that princess so fair and\n true,\n 'May it be for the honour of knighthood what seemeth thee\n best to do,\n Wise art thou indeed and loyal, and I in thy power may be,\n And I know well that heavy sorrow and pain thou canst bring\n on me:\n To the ordeal, I prithee, put me, and do this for all women's\n sake, 405\n Thereafter, an I be guilty, for my sin do thou vengeance\n take!\n If another's hand shall slay me, (for _thee_ were such deed\n un-meet)\n Then gladly I'll die--Dost thou scorn me? then welcome is\n death, and sweet!'\n\n Then he broke out in bitter anger, 'If thy pride be still so\n great,\n It is meet I should meekness teach thee, tho' the lesson be\n all too late-- 410\n No more shall we be companions, together no more we'll eat;\n Be our marriage couch forgotten and the hours of communion\n sweet.\n This garment in which I found thee thy only robe shall be,\n And instead of jewelled bridle hempen twist will I give to\n thee;\n Thy steed be the guest of hunger, and thy saddle once decked\n so fair 415\n Shall be robbed of its goodly trappings!' and with hasty hand\n he tare\n The samite adown, and he brake it, the saddle she rode\n erewhile,\n (Nor her gentle ways and seemly might his angry wrath\n beguile)\n With a hempen cord he bound it--Too soon had she won his\n hate!\n As he did this he spake, 'Now Lady, 'tis best we no longer\n wait, 420\n Could I reach him who shared thy favours, then fulfilled were\n my heart's desire,\n The venture I'ld face, though as dragon he were breathing\n forth flames and fire!'\n Then with weeping instead of laughter she passed from out the\n tent\n That lady so rich in sorrow, and sadly her way she went;\n Yet more than she mourned her shaming she wept her lord's\n grief, I ween, 425\n His sorrow so sorely moved her, e'en death would have lighter\n been.\n Now of true heart shall ye bemoan her who thus did sore\n anguish know,\n And tho' hatred I won from all women, still I'ld mourn for\n Jeschut\u00e9's woe!\n\n So rode they upon the traces of the lad who before them fled,\n And, dauntless, he little thought him how a foeman behind him\n sped, 430\n But whoever his eyes might light on, as his pathway they drew\n anear,\n He gave to him kindly greeting, 'Thus bade me my mother\n dear!'\n\n Thus rode he, our lad so foolish, adown a mountain side,\n When a woman's voice before him from amid the rocks loud\n cried;\n 'Twas a cry of heartfelt sorrow, for her joy was in ruins\n laid-- 435\n Then swift rode the lad towards her,--Now hear what she did,\n this maid:\n She tore, the maid Sigun\u00e9, her plaits of long brown hair\n From out her head thro' sorrow; and the lad he beheld her\n there,\n And he saw Schionatulander, the prince, on her knee lie dead,\n And the maiden she wailed above him, and her joy had for ever\n fled. 440\n\n ('If sad be their mien or joyful, my mother she bade me still\n Greet all men, whoe'er might meet me) God keep thee from\n greater ill,\n For in sooth a sorry treasure have I found on thy knee\n to-day!\n Who hath wounded this knight?' (For an answer the lad he\n would press alway)\n 'Did one with a javelin slay him? For Lady, he sure is dead; 445\n Wilt thou tell me naught? Who hath slain him? If he none too\n far hath fled\n Methinks I might overtake him, for gladly with him I'ld\n fight!'\n Then the lad he laid hold on his quiver wherein lay the\n javelins bright,\n And still in his hand tight clasp\u00e8d, the tokens twain he bore\n Which he in his thoughtless folly erewhile from Jeschut\u00e9\n tore. 450\n Had he known the courtly customs with his father's life\n in-bound,\n His shield were better smitten when the duchess alone he\n found\n Who thro' him must suffer sorrow--for more than a whole year\n long,\n Her husband withheld his favour, tho' in sooth did he do her\n wrong.\n\n Now list to this maid Sigun\u00e9 who her grief would bemoan as\n meet, 455\n She spake to the lad, 'Thou art courteous, all hail! to thy\n youth so sweet,\n And thy face so fair; yea bless\u00e8d thy lot shall hereafter be!\n No javelin pierced this hero, but slain in a joust was he--\n From truth wast thou born who truly for another's woe can\n grieve!'\n Then his name she was fain to hearken, ere the lad her side\n might leave, 460\n And she spake, God with skill had wrought him--But his answer\n was naught but this,\n 'At home all who know me call me '_Bon fils, Cher fils, Beau\n fils!_'\n\n Ere ever the word was spoken, the maiden she knew his name--\n Now hearken aright his title, that hereafter ye own his fame\n Who is hero of this my venture, who now standeth the maid\n beside-- 465\n And her red lips they spake unfaltering, 'Thou art\n _Parzival_,' she cried,\n And thy name it shall mean '_to pierce thro_',' for thy\n mother's faithful heart\n With furrow of grief was riven when she from her lord must\n part:\n And I speak not that those shouldst vaunt thee; thy mother my\n aunt shall be,\n And in truth, with no guile of falsehood, thy race will I\n tell to thee!' 470\n\n 'An Angevin was thy father, thy mother of fair Waleis,\n And I know for a truth thy birthplace was the city of\n Kanvoleis;\n And thou art the King of Norgals, and there in the citadel\n As king shalt thou bear the sceptre and crown as beseems thee\n well.\n For thy sake was he slain, this hero, who thy kingdom for\n thee would guard, 475\n His truth it hath faltered never, tho' in death did he find\n reward.\n Two brothers have wrought thee evil, two kingdoms from thee\n have reft,\n And Orilus this thy kinsman in a joust hath lifeless left.\n And me too hath he left in sorrow--He served me nor thought\n it shame,\n This prince of thy land, where my childhood did thy mother's\n tending claim. 480\n Now fair and sweet my cousin wouldst thou hear how he met his\n end?\n 'Twas the fair wove leash of a brachet that brought sorrow\n unto my friend--\n He hath served us twain, in our service hath he won him but\n death alone,\n And I, I have won but sorrow, and henceforth for his death\n make moan,\n For scant of wit was I surely, that I gave not my love\n afore-- 485\n So God hath my gladness shattered, and the dead I love\n evermore!'\n\n Then he spake, 'I must mourn, O cousin, thy grief, and my\n bitter wrong,\n Of a truth till I may avenge them the time seemeth\n over-long!'\n Then straight would he ride to battle, but the way did she\n falsely show,\n For she feared were he slain then henceforward yet sorer\n should wax her woe. 490\n But a road he found that led him straightway to the Breton's\n land,\n And smooth and wide was that highway--An there met him on\n either hand\n Afoot or ahorse a merchant or knight, he would greet them\n still,\n For so was his mother's counsel; and she spake with no\n thought of ill.\n\n But great weariness o'ertook him, as darkened the eventide, 495\n And a house that was none too stately the youth in his folly\n spied.\n 'Twas a churl he who sat within it, discourteous by birth and\n low,\n (A fisherman he, little kindness might one at his hand e'er\n know)\n Then the lad drew rein for he hungered, and craved of him\n drink and meat.\n But the host quoth, 'Nay, not a half-loaf shalt thou have at\n mine hand to eat 500\n In thirty years; he who waiteth, in the gifts of mine hand to\n share,\n O'er-long shall delay his journey--For none but myself I\n care,\n Thereafter perchance for my children--Thou comest not here\n to-day,\n Hadst thou money or pledge 'twere other, then thine host\n would I be straightway!' 505\n\n Then Jeschut\u00e9's clasp all golden the lad he would bid him\n take,\n And soon as the peasant saw it, with smiling mouth he spake,\n 'Wilt thou stay here, sweet lad? then due honour be thy\n portion from all within--'\n 'Wilt thou feed me to-night and to-morrow wilt help me the\n way to win\n To King Arthur (for well I love him) then thyself mayst keep\n the gold!' 510\n 'Yea, that will I do,' quoth the peasant, 'for ne'er might\n mine eyes behold\n A face and form so comely--I will thee, as a marvel, bring\n To the court, and the good Round Table, and the face of the\n noble king!'\n\n So the lad thro' the night abode there, and ere ever the dawn\n of day\n He roused himself full eager to get on his onward way, 515\n And the fisher, he made him ready, and before the lad he ran,\n And the boy he rode behind him, and swift were both steed and\n man.\n\n (Herr Hartmann von Aue, and thy lady, the queenly Guinevere,\n And thy gallant lord, King Arthur, a guest do I bring ye\n here;\n No tool is he for your mocking, nay, never a harp or lute, 520\n Ye shall choose ye some other plaything, such as courtesy\n well doth suit;\n Else will I thy lady Enid, and her mother Karnafite\n Pass under the mill, and their honour with bitter scorn I'll\n smite--\n Tho' I tune my song to mocking, and thy lips with mockery\n seal,\n Yet here will I guard my hero lest thy scorn he perchance\n should feel!) 525\n\n When the lad with his guide so humble to the city walls drew\n near,\n And Nantes might be well discern\u00e8d in the morning light so\n clear,\n 'God keep thee, boy,' said the fisher, 'thou seest where thou\n must ride.'\n Quoth the lad yet scant in knowledge, 'Yet nearer must thou\n be guide!'\n 'Nay, nay, so proud as these court-folk, such folly be far\n from me, 530\n An' a peasant came nigh unto them, his welcome would sorry\n be!'\n\n So alone the lad rode onward o'er a plain that was none too\n wide,\n And the flowers stood fair around him and blossomed on every\n side,\n No Kurwenal was his teacher and of courtesy knew he naught--\n They know it not, the untravelled, till the world hath wisdom\n taught-- 535\n Of hempen twist his bridle, and feeble and faint his steed,\n And oft it fell, as stumbling it went o'er the flowery mead.\n And nowhere upon his saddle fair leather and new was seen;\n And of samite fair and ermine full great his lack had been.\n No mantle clasp he needed, nor knightly garb he wore, 540\n Of blazoned coat or surcoat; his javelin alone he bore.\n He whose deeds were praised of all men, his father so brave\n and wise,\n Was robed in far other fashion on the carpet 'fore Kanvoleis!\n\n He who ne'er felt the sweat of terror, to him did a knight\n draw near;\n Then he greeted him, 'May God keep thee! thus bade me my\n mother dear.' 545\n 'God reward thee, lad, and thy mother,' swift answer the\n knight would bring,\n (Uther Pendragon reared him, he was cousin unto the king,\n And unto the land of Bretagne did the self-same knight lay\n claim)\n He was Ither of Gaheviess, 'The Red Knight' they called his\n name.\n\n All dazzling red was his armour, the eye from its glow\n gleamed red; 550\n Red was his horse swift-footed, and the plumes that should\n deck its head,\n Of samite red its covering; redder than flame his shield;\n Fair-fashioned and red his surcoat; and the spear that his\n hand would wield\n Was red, yea, the shaft and the iron; and red at the knight's\n desire\n Was his sword, yet the blade's fair keenness was not dimmed\n by the raging fire. 555\n And the King of Cumberland, stately, in his mail\u00e8d hand did\n hold\n A goblet, with skill engraven, and wrought of the good red\n gold--\n From the Table Round had he reft it--All red was his shining\n hair\n Yet white was his skin, and kindly his speech to the lad and\n fair.\n\n 'Now hail to thy fair young body, that in sooth a true woman\n bare, 560\n Yea, bless\u00e8d is she thy mother! Ne'er saw I a face so fair,\n And the light of thine eyes, I think me, is kindled by love\n alone,\n And Love shall in thee be victor, as by thee Love is\n overthrown!\n And in thee is the joy of woman, whose bliss finds in thee\n its goal,\n And for thee shall the load of sorrow weigh heavy upon the\n soul-- 565\n Now do me this grace I pray thee, an thou wend thee unto the\n town\n Bear greeting from me to King Arthur, and his heroes of high\n renown,\n And say that no fleeting vision am I who now speak with thee,\n But here I abide, and await him who thinketh to joust with\n me!'\n\n 'And never a man will wonder: to the Table Round I came 570\n And there, in the heroes' presence to my kingdom would I lay\n claim,\n And with hasty hand I raised it, this cup, and the wine\n out-poured\n The robes of the queen besprinkled, as she sat there beside\n her lord.\n This I did as the custom olden of one who would claim his\n right\n For better I thought the wine-cup, than the straw-wisp all\n alight, 575\n For its smoke perchance had soiled me, thus I chose it not'\n spake the king,\n 'Nor for robbery rode I hither, my crown doth forbid such\n thing--\n Say thou to the queen that the wine-drops, they fell on her\n 'gainst my will\n Where those heroes sit, nor remember, nor their knighthood as\n meet fulfil.\n Whether kings they shall be or princes o'er-long doth he\n thirst their king! 580\n This cup, why delay to fetch it? Their fame it hath taken\n wing!'\n\n Then the lad spake, 'I'll bear thy message, yea, e'en as thou\n biddest me.'\n And then unto Nantes fair city he gat him right speedily,\n And many a youth they followed to the court of the palace\n fair,\n And 'twas filled with a motley gathering, and they thronged\n him and pressed him there. 585\n Then Iwanet sprang from out them, and this youth from\n falsehood free\n He gave him a kindly greeting, and he proffered him company.\n And the lad he quoth, 'God keep thee, (so my mother she bade\n me speak\n Ere yet from home I wended) King Arthur I fain would seek\n But here see I full many an Arthur! Who of all these shall\n make me knight?' 590\n Then Iwanet laughed loud 'I will show thee, not yet hast thou\n seen the right!'\n\n To the Table Round he led him where sat the heroes all\n And as best he could for the tumult cried the lad thro' the\n lofty hall,\n 'God keep ye all ye heroes! I greet ye both queen and king,\n For thus did my mother bid me fair greeting to ye to bring. 595\n And all who have won by their valour at the Table Round a\n seat\n Ye gallant knights and heroes, ye too did she bid me greet!\n But in one thing my skill doth fail me, who is host here I\n may not know;\n To him do I bear a message from a knight who all red doth\n glow,\n He waiteth without the portal (methinks he is fain to fight) 600\n That he spilt o'er the queen the wine-cup that sorely doth\n grieve the knight--\n Ah! if I his gear so goodly from the king's hand as gift\n might take,\n In sooth were I rich in gladness--so knightly and fair its\n make!'\n\n Thus spake the youth gay and careless, and the courtiers they\n thronged around\n And hither and thither pressed him till scarce might he stand\n his ground: 605\n And well did they look upon him, for each for himself might\n see\n That never in man or maiden might the fruit of love fairer\n be.\n And in truth it was no ill working that in Parzival God had\n wrought,\n In whom never a sight of terror had wakened of fear a\n thought.\n\n Thus they brought him before King Arthur, he whom God for a\n wonder chose, 610\n And no man might bear him hatred--Then the queen from her\n seat arose\n And she gazed for a space upon him ere she passed from out\n the hall\n Where the wine from the golden goblet perforce on her robes\n must fall.\n Then Arthur he looked upon him--To the simple youth he spake,\n 'Now lad to thy kindly greeting a kindly answer take, 615\n For this would I do thee service, yea with body alike and\n land;\n This I speak of a true heart truly, so my will doth toward\n thee stand!'\n\n 'Would to God that were true! Now I think me it well-nigh a\n year shall be\n That I fain would be knight, lacking knighthood all else\n seemeth ill to me!\n Now make thou no more delaying, be knighthood my lot\n straightway.' 620\n Quoth the king, 'I were fain to do so if worth fail me not\n alway,\n So noble art thou to look on; and goodly gifts and rare\n Would I give thee; to do thee service I'll naught of my\n treasure spare.\n Yea, loath had I been to refuse thee, wait but for\n to-morrow's light,\n And I myself will dower thee with all that befits a knight.' 625\n\n The lad like a bird new cag\u00e8d, he shook himself to and fro,\n And he quoth, 'For naught do I ask thee! But that knight who\n as fire doth glow\n If thou givest me not his armour no gift will I take from\n thee,\n My _mother_ will not withhold it--For a queen shall she\n surely be.'\n\n Then Arthur he quoth, 'That armour so gallant a knight doth\n wear 630\n That to give thee a gift so goodly methinks I may hardly\n dare.\n And guiltless I live in sorrow since his homage I must\n forego,\n Ither he is of Gaheviess; thro' my joy hath he wrought me\n woe.'\n\n 'Now my King sure it were ungracious to say to his pleading\n nay,\n Thou shalt give him what he desireth, nor think it too\n great,' quoth Kay, 635\n 'Let him forth to the plain; bid him bring thee the cup if it\n be thy will!\n Here hast thou the whip, there the top is, let the child have\n of sport his fill.\n The women, forsooth, will praise him, and it seemeth good to\n me\n He should learn to take blows an he gives them, many such\n will his portion be.\n For the life of the twain what care I? Each of us needs must\n have his day, 640\n If thy dogs for the spoil shall hunger, thou must e'en give\n thy dogs their way.'\n 'I were loath to refuse his pleading, yet I feared lest he\n here be slain,\n And to knighthood I fain had helped him.' Thus Arthur he\n spake again.\n\n Thus the lad won the gift he craved for, which many perforce\n must rue,\n And young and old they followed, as forth from the hall he\n flew. 645\n By the hand would Iwanet lead him, 'fore a bower that was\n none too high,\n And backward and forward turning the lad gazed with eager\n eye.\n And the bower was so low that within it the lad he both heard\n and saw,\n And therefrom did he win a sorrow that vexed him with torment\n sore.\n\n The queen from her bower window to look on the sight was\n fain, 650\n And her knights and maidens round her they gazed and they\n gazed again.\n And the maiden Kunnewaar\u00e9 she sat there, the fair and proud,\n And never, that man might wot of, had she laughed or low or\n loud.\n For never she vowed, an she died first, would she laugh ere\n her eyes might see\n That knight, who of knights the bravest or was, or henceforth\n should be. 655\n As the lad rode beneath the window she brake into laughter\n sweet,\n And her back was sore from the guerdon--reward for a maid\n unmeet!\n For Kay the Seneschal seized her, the maiden of fair Lalande,\n By her waving hair, and the tresses he wound fast around his\n hand,\n Without a band he bound her--Tho' never an oath she sware 660\n His staff he laid unknightly on her maiden shoulders fair,\n And ere ever the sound of the smiting on the ear had died\n away\n Thro' white skin and royal raiment had he wounded the maid\n that day.\n\n And thus did he speak in his folly, 'Now hast thou thine own\n fair fame\n Cast aside, and I wot thou hast done it to thine own mending\n shame! 665\n Now see, e'en in flight have I caught it, and I bring it to\n thee once more\n In such wise thou mayst well remember, and be e'en in the\n memory sore:\n For I wot well unto King Arthur, to his court and his palace\n hall\n Many gallant men have ridden, yet hast thou despised them\n all,\n And ne'er hast thou smiled upon them--And now doth thy\n laughter ring 670\n For one knowing naught of knighthood! Unseemly I deem this\n thing!'\n\n Now whate'er might be done in anger I wot well no king's\n decree\n Had bid him thus smite the maiden; and her friends mourned\n her bitterly.\n (Might she bear knightly shield and armour it had helped not\n this sore disgrace,\n Discourteous the blows were smitten.) She came of a royal\n race, 675\n Had her gallant brothers seen it, L\u00e4helein and Orilus\n Far fewer blows had fallen; she ne'er had been smitten thus.\n\n Now Sir Antanor the Silent, who thro' silence a fool was\n thought,\n (His speech and the maiden's laughter on a self-same thread\n were wrought)\n For never a word would he utter till she laughed whom Kay\n thus did smite, 680\n As clear rang the maiden's laughter, aloud spake the silent\n knight,\n 'Now here before God I tell thee, Kunnewaar\u00e9 of fair Lalande\n Thou hast wronged for that lad, and thy guerdon awaiteth thee\n at his hand,\n Nor so weak shall he be, nor so foolish, but he turneth thy\n bliss to bale!'\n 'And thy speech thou hast found but to threaten for joy shall\n it naught avail.' 685\n His food would he make full bitter.--Kay smote him upon the\n ear\n With his fist till naught but a singing and a whispering\n might he hear.\n And Parzival saw the sorrow of the maiden and Antanor,\n And his heart was hot for their shaming, and grief for their\n sake he bore,\n And he grasped his javelin tightly, but the throng pressed so\n close around 690\n That perforce the dart must he lower, lest some other aim it\n found.\n\n Thus alone from the court of King Arthur rode the son of\n Gamuret,\n And he came to the plain where the Red Knight his foeman\n awaited yet;\n And he bare unto him the tidings how in Nantes was there\n never a knight\n Whose heart yet yearned for jousting, or who lusted with him\n to fight. 695\n 'But a gift King Arthur gave me--I spake as thou saidst\n before,\n That without thy will had it chanced thee the wine o'er the\n queen to pour,\n Thy discourtesy sorely vexed thee--They think not to fight\n with thee.\n Now give me the steed thou ridest, and thine harness give\n thou to me,\n They were given me in the palace, therein shall I be a\n knight, 700\n Wouldst withhold them, I will not greet thee--Yield thou what\n is mine of right!'\n\n Then the King of Cumberland answered, 'If Arthur hath given\n to thee\n Mine armour, my _life_ he gave thee, if that life thou canst\n take from me,\n So well doth he love his kinsmen! Hath he known thee before\n to-day,\n That so swiftly the service done him with such guerdon he\n would repay?' 705\n\n 'I may win what I will I trow me, of a sooth had he given me\n more;\n Now leave thou thy claim on his kingdom--'Tis time I a\n knight's shield bore\n For _squire_ will I be no longer!' He laid on the rein his\n hand\n 'Thou art L\u00e4helein, so I think me, who hath taken from me my\n land!'\n\n Then the knight he turned his spear-shaft, and he struck with\n so true a blow 710\n That the lad and his sorry charger on the meadow he laid them\n low,\n And the hero was swift in his anger, and he smote with a will\n so good\n That there where the spear-shaft struck him there sprang\n forth bright drops of blood.\n Then Parzival sprang up swiftly and stood wrathful upon his\n feet\n And he grasped his javelin firmly--Where the helm and the\n visor meet 715\n And betwixt the twain is an opening, there the javelin\n swiftly sped\n And thro' eye and neck it struck him, and the knight on the\n plain lay dead.\n Fierce foe had he been to falsehood; women's sighs, true\n hearts wounded sore,\n Were the fruit of his death, and with tear-drops must many an\n eye run o'er.\n And they whom his love made joyful their gladness asunder\n brake, 720\n And their joy to the goal of sorrow o'er a rough road its way\n must take.\n\n Then Parzival in his folly turned the dead knight o'er and\n o'er,\n For fain would he loose his armour, yet was lacking the\n needful lore.\n He fingered both helm and corslet with his bare white hands\n alone,\n Yet the fastening he failed to loosen, nor with force might\n they be undone 725\n Tho' oft and again he tried them, who in wisdom was all\n untaught.\n Then the horses they neighed so loudly that the sound on the\n breeze was brought\n To Iwanet's ear, and he heard them, by the city moat he\n stood,\n (To Queen Guinevere was he kinsman, and he did to her service\n good)\n He heard the cry of the horses, but naught of the riders saw, 730\n As his true heart would give him counsel, Parzival did he\n seek once more.\n\n And Ither lay dead; and his slayer by his folly was vexed\n amain--\n Then swiftly he sprang to aid him, and Parzival thanks must\n gain\n For the honour he here had won him o'er the hero of\n Cumberland:\n 'God reward thee, but give me counsel for skill here doth\n fail mine hand, 735\n How best may I loose this armour which myself I were fain to\n wear?'\n 'Such lore I right well may teach thee,' quoth Iwanet the\n proud and fair,\n So the armour was reft from the dead man, 'fore Nantes on the\n grassy plain,\n And they did it upon the living, o'er whose dealings did\n folly reign.\n\n Quoth Iwanet, 'These leather leggings fit not with the mail\u00e8d\n gear, 740\n As a _knight_ shalt thou now be cloth\u00e8d,' and the lad deemed\n it ill to hear;\n Quoth Parzival, 'What my mother aforetime hath given me\n That cometh not from my body, or for good or for ill it be!'\n And much did Iwanet marvel, for clever was he i' troth,\n Yet he followed perforce his bidding, nor waxed at his folly\n wroth. 745\n And he drew above the leggings the hosen of shining mail,\n Nor the spurs with red gold in-wroughten should unto the\n harness fail,\n And of silk and gold the laces, nor leather might there be\n found.\n Ere he gave unto him the corslet he bound him with greaves\n around,\n And tho' o'er-long Parzival deemed it yet the time was\n swiftly sped, 750\n Ere in knightly armour shining he clad him from foot to head.\n Then the lad would have ta'en his quiver, but Iwanet he spake\n out free,\n 'Nay, no javelin will I give thee, unknightly such arms shall\n be!'\n Then he girt the sharp sword around him, and he showed how to\n draw the blade,\n And he bade him ne'er fly in battle, nor in conflict to be\n dismayed. 755\n Then nearer he led unto him the charger the dead knight rode,\n And 'twas tall and strong, yet the saddle the youth with one\n spring bestrode,\n He recked not the weight of his armour, and of stirrups had\n little need--\n E'en to-day do men speak of his swiftness, and the fame of\n his mighty deeds.\n\n Nor o'er-much did Iwanet think it to teach him with fitting\n skill 760\n To hold his shield and to guard him, while he wrought to his\n foeman ill;\n And a spear in his hand he gave him--But Parzival turned\n aside,\n 'Nay, nay, what good may that do me?' 'If a joust one with\n thee would ride\n Thou shalt on thy foeman break it, perchance drive it thro'\n his shield,\n If thou doest that oft, 'fore the maidens will they praise\n thee for well-fought field.' 765\n\n And this hath the venture told me,--Not in Maestricht, or\n e'en Cologne\n Might a painter so fair a picture as this lad and his steed\n have shown.\n Then straightway he spake to Iwanet, 'My friend and companion\n dear,\n The boon that I asked have I won me, of that art thou witness\n here.\n My service bear thou to the city, to Arthur the noble king, 770\n And mourn unto him my shaming--This cup thou again shalt\n bring,\n And tell him a knight hath wronged me, since he smote that\n maiden fair\n Who looked, and who laughed upon me, and grief for her grief\n I bear.\n Nor hath it but lightly touched me, it hath pierced to my\n inmost heart\n This maid's woe all undeserv\u00e8d--Now do thou in her shame have\n part 775\n Thro' the friendship that thou hast shown me! God keep thee\n in peace alway,\n And watch o'er us twain, for I think me no longer I here may\n stay!'\n\n And Ither the prince of Gaheviess on the plain had he\n lifeless left,\n E'en in death was he fair to look on who was thus of fair\n life bereft.\n If in joust by a spear-thrust pierced he thro' knighthood his\n death must gain 780\n Who had mourned for the grief and the marvel? By a javelin he\n here was slain.\n Then Iwanet he strewed above him a covering of blossoms\n bright,\n And he smote the shaft of the javelin in the ground by the\n fallen knight,\n And that lad so true and faithful, he pierced with the\n crimson blade\n A bough of wood, and in this wise a cross o'er the dead man\n made. 785\n Then he gat him again to the city, and the heavy tidings\n told;\n And from many a trembling woman, and from many a hero bold\n Rose the wail of love and of sorrow; and the dead would they\n fetch in state,\n And the Host they bare before her, as the queen passed the\n city gate.\n\n Then o'er Cumberland's prince and hero, who by Parzival's\n hand was slain, 790\n Queen Guinevere spake in sorrow while her tear-drops they\n flowed amain,\n 'Alas! alas! for broken in twain is King Arthur's might,\n For he whom the good Round Table accounted its bravest knight\n Here slain before Nantes he lieth! His heritage did he claim\n Where men gave him death for his guerdon--For naught marred\n his knightly fame; 795\n Here long hath he dwelt among us in such wise that never an\n ear\n The tale of a deed unknightly, or wrong he had done, might\n hear.\n He held him afar from falsehood, to guile was he aye a foe;\n The lock and the seal of knighthood all too soon must we bury\n low.\n His heart wise in courteous wisdom, and steadfast as seal and\n sign, 800\n Taught him ever the fairest counsel that a man's heart might\n aye divine,\n Whereby with true love and courage a man woman's love may woo\n And show manhood's truth--Fruit-bearing it seedeth itself\n anew\n The plant of all woman's sorrow! From thy wounds grief shall\n ever grow--\n So red was thy hair that the blossoms that bloom here thy\n corse below 805\n Scarce redder may be with thy life-blood--All laughter hast\n thou forbid\n To fair women, and joy and gladness by thy death are for ever\n hid.'\n\n Thus Ither, beloved of all men, as a king in the grave was\n laid,--\n With his life must he pay for his armour who taught sighing\n to many a maid,\n Since Parzival in his folly for the harness his death had\n sought, 810\n Hereafter, when he won wisdom, he scarcely such deed had\n wrought!\n\n NOW this might ye mark in the charger, great labour it held\n as naught,\n Were it hot, were it cold, no journey the sweat on its coat\n had brought;\n It sped over stone or tree-trunk, and scarce was there need\n to draw\n The girth by one hole the tighter if the knight for two days\n it bore. 815\n So fully armed, in his folly yet further he rode that day\n Than a wise man unarmed in two days if his steed he betimes\n would stay.\n And ever it onward galloped, and but seldom would walk or\n trot,\n How to check its speed by the bridle as yet Parzival knew\n not.\n\n Then he saw the roof of a castle rise fair in the evening\n glow, 820\n And the lad he thought in his folly that the towers from the\n earth must grow\n Since the one roof bare so many--And he thought Arthur sowed\n such seed,\n And he who could work such marvels were a holy man indeed!\n Then he said, 'While at home I tarried ne'er looked I on\n woodland field\n That a crop so rich and so stately in growth might ever\n yield; 825\n I think me my mother's people their labour but little know,\n For never too dry, I think me, is the soil where their seed\n they sow!'--\n Now Gurnemanz of Graharz of this mighty Burg was lord:\n At his portal a spreading linden stood fair on the summer\n sward,\n Nor too long nor too wide was the meadow, and the horse and\n the road they led 830\n To where Parzival found him seated who of castle and land was\n head.\n\n Now weariness sore constrained him, nor his shield might he\n rightly hold\n But it backward and forward wavered as beseemed not a rider\n bold.\n And Prince Gurnemanz sat all lonely, and the boughs of the\n linden tree\n Gave shade as was meet to its master, the captain of\n courtesy-- 835\n And his life it fled from falsehood--Then e'en as should be\n his right\n He gave to the guest fair welcome, and with him stood nor\n squire nor knight.\n\n Then Parzival made him answer--In his folly he spake\n straightway,\n 'My mother bade me seek counsel from an old man with locks of\n grey;\n For thy rede will I do thee service, for so did my mother\n speak!' 840\n 'If here thou art come for counsel, and aid at my lips would\n seek,\n Thy favour thou still shalt leave me whatever my counsel be,\n If thou will that thy prayer I hearken, and give rede as seem\n best to me!'\n\n Then the prince cast a yearling falcon from his hand and\n aloft it flew,\n And it winged its way to the castle, and its golden bells\n rang true, 845\n 'Twas a messenger; and the pages came swiftly in garments\n fair,\n And he bade them to lead the guest in, and lodging as meet\n prepare;\n And the lad he spake in his folly, 'My mother she told me\n true,\n An thou follow an old man's counsel his rede shalt thou never\n rue!\n\n And the pages they led him straightway where stood many a\n gallant knight, 850\n And there in the castle courtyard from his steed did they bid\n him light.\n Spake the youth, and he showed his folly, 'Tis a King who\n hath bidden me\n Be a knight, and whate'er befall me on this charger my seat\n shall be.\n My mother she bade me greet ye!' And mother they thanked and\n son,\n (Both horse and man were wearied) then, the words of greeting\n done, 855\n Full many a time they urged him, but it cost them many a\n thought\n Ere the lad within the castle, and from off his steed they\n brought.\n Then they led him to a chamber, and they prayed the stranger\n guest,\n 'Let us loose thine harness off thee, that thy wearied limbs\n find rest.'\n\n But scarce had they loosed his armour when lo! there came to\n view 860\n A garment e'en such as Fools wear, and leggings of calf-skin\n new;\n Then startled and shamed they turned them, and they whispered\n each to all,\n And with bated breath the tidings ran swift through the\n castle hall,\n And the host for shame was speechless--But a knight spake in\n courtesy,\n 'Let that be as it may, one so noble mine eyes they might\n never see, 865\n And Good Fortune hath looked upon him by his mien so high and\n fair--\n Ah! he whom Love's light hath chosen, who bade him such garb\n to wear?\n And it grieveth me sore to find thus on the World's Joy such\n poor attire.\n Ah! well for the mother who bare him, she hath won her full\n heart's desire!\n And his helmet is decked so costly; ere his harness from him\n we took 870\n It became him well, and knightly and noble I ween his look,\n And many a bruise and blood-stain the lad on his limbs doth\n bear.'\n Quoth the host, ''Tis perchance a woman who bade him such\n garb to wear!'\n 'Nay, Sire, for so strange his bearing he would know not a\n maid to pray\n To take from him knightly homage,--Tho' his face is so fair\n alway 875\n It had fitted him well for Love's service.' Then the host\n spake, ''Tis best we see\n This lad, in whose strange attiring a marvel for sure shall\n be!'\n\n Then to Parzival they betook them, and they found that a\n wound he bare\n From a spear that was never shattered, and the host for his\n hurts would care,\n And so kindly I ween his tending that a father, whose\n heartfelt love 880\n To his children, found no denial, his faith might no better\n prove.\n And he washed his wounds and bound them, the prince, with his\n own right hand,\n Ere forth to the hall he led him where the evening meal\n should stand.\n\n And food the guest sore needed, and hungry was he alway,\n From the house of the fisherman fasting had he ridden at\n break of day, 885\n And his wound and the heavy harness which he before Nantes\n had won\n Wrought him weariness sore and hunger ere ever the ride was\n done.\n For from Arthur the King of the Bretons the whole day he\n needs must ride,\n Nor his fast at the Court had broken, and now it was\n eventide.\n Then the host bade him eat at his table, and Parzival did his\n will, 890\n And the food it swiftly vanished, as if one would a manger\n fill!\n And Gurnemanz was well pleas\u00e8d, and ever the lad did pray\n To eat as he would, and his hunger and weariness put away.\n\n When 'twas time, and the meal was ended, 'Now weary art thou,\n I ween,'\n Quoth the host to his guest, 'If this morning betimes thou\n a-foot hast been?' 895\n 'God knoweth my mother slumbered, so early she ne'er doth\n wake.'\n Then the host he laughed, and he led him where rest he right\n well might take,\n And he bade him disrobe, tho' unwilling, he needs must--An\n ermine fair\n They cast o'er his naked body,--fairer fruit never woman\n bare!\n\n By weariness taught to slumber, but seldom throughout the\n night 900\n On his other side did he turn him, he might well wait the\n morning light.\n Then the prince he bade his servants ere ever 'twas middle\n day,\n A bath, as was meet, make ready by the couch where the young\n knight lay,\n And roses they threw within it--And tho' he no call might\n hear\n The guest awoke from his slumbers, and he stepped in the\n waters clear. 905\n I know not who sent them hither, but maidens richly dressed,\n Lovely and sweet to look on, all courteous sought the guest,\n They washed his wounds and bound them with their hands so\n soft and white,\n (Nor should this o'er strange have seemed him who was reft of\n wisdom's might)\n And both ease he felt and gladness, nor his folly they made\n him rue-- 910\n Thus these fair and gentle maidens they tended the lad anew,\n And they spake 'twixt themselves, and he hearkened, yet never\n a word would say,\n Yet too early he might not deem it, for they shone as a\n second day,\n And their beauty it vied with the morning, yet his fairness\n outshone the twain,\n For naught to the youth was lacking that favour and praise\n might gain. 915\n Then a linen cloth they proffered, but the lad he took it\n ill,\n An he robed himself before them, their presence should shame\n him still.\n Perforce must the maidens leave him, nor longer might linger\n there\n Tho' in sooth they would fain have questioned lest deeper the\n wounds he bare.\n (For such was the way of woman, and such is true woman's\n will, 920\n Tho' scatheless themselves yet the sorrow of a friend it doth\n work them ill.)\n\n Then he strode to the bed, and he found there fresh raiment\n so fine and white,\n With a girdle he bound it round him, 'twas of silk and of\n gold so bright;\n And hosen of scarlet woollen they drew on the fearless\n knight,\n In sooth they well became him who was comely in all men's\n sight. 925\n And of ruddy brown well fashioned, (nor lining they thought\n to spare)\n Were robe alike and mantle, and within was the ermine fair,\n And without were they decked with sable, both black and grey\n in hue;\n Then the gallant youth the mantle around his shoulders threw,\n With a belt so rich and costly he girt him found the waist, 930\n And the fastening of the mantle with a golden clasp was\n graced.\n\n And his mouth was red and glowing--Then his host he drew\n anigh,\n And many a proud knight followed, to greet him courteously,\n And e'en as 'twas done the heroes they spake with a great\n amaze\n 'Ne'er saw they a man so goodly!'--And all would the mother\n praise 935\n Who such son to the world had given--And in truth and in\n courtesy\n They spake, 'Whatsoe'er he asketh for his service fulfilled\n shall be,\n And favour and love await him if his worth win its meed\n alway,'\n And of those who hereafter saw him none were there who said\n them nay.\n\n By his hand the host then took him, and forth from his\n chamber led, 940\n And the prince fain would hear the story how the night hours\n with him had sped,\n 'Were it otherwise, I think me that living I scarce might\n wake,\n 'Twas well that my mother bade me thus shelter with thee to\n take\n Ere yet from her I had ridden--May God requite ye both,\n For mercy Sir Knight, and kindness, hast thou shown to me\n nothing loth.' 945\n So went our hero witless where to God and the host they'd\n sing,\n And the prince by the Mass would teach him that which health\n to the soul shall bring.\n He would rede him well of the Offering--How to sign himself\n with the Cross,\n And thus work on the Devil vengeance, who seeketh for aye our\n loss!\n\n Then again to the hall of the castle and the morning meal\n they came, 950\n And the host set his guest beside him, and he ate without\n fear or shame.\n Then out spake the prince so courteous, 'An it seemeth not\n ill to thee,\n Fain am I to know thy dwelling, and from whence thou art come\n to me?'\n Then frankly he told the story how his mother's side he fled,\n Of the ring and the clasp so golden, and the winning the\n harness red. 955\n And the prince he knew the Red Knight, and his fate it\n pleased him ill,\n And the name of his guest he asked not but 'The Red Knight'\n he called him still.\n\n Then e'en as the meal was over, were they tamed the ways so\n wild,\n For the host to his guest he quoth thus 'Thou speakest as\n doth a child,\n Why hold not thy peace of thy mother, and otherwise turn thy\n speech? 960\n An thou follow henceforth my counsel far wiser the ways I'll\n teach!'\n\n 'And thus I begin, do thou hearken--From true shame shalt\n thou never flee,\n A shameless man, bethink thee, what place in the world hath\n he?\n As a bird that moulteth ever so his honour doth fall away,\n And hereafter he hath his portion in the fires of Hell for\n aye.' 965\n\n 'So noble methinks thy bearing, a folk's Lord thou well mayst\n be;\n If high be thy birth, and yet higher the lot that awaiteth\n thee,\n Then see that thy heart hath pity for the poor and needy man\n And fight thou against his sorrow with free gifts as best\n thou can,\n For a true knight must aye be humble--A brave man who need\n doth know 970\n Full often with shame he battles, and sore is that strife I\n trow,\n For him shall thy help be ready--(Who lighteneth his\n brother's need\n From Heaven he winneth favour as rewarding for righteous\n deed.)\n For in sooth his case is harder than theirs who as beggars\n stand\n 'Neath the window, and succour seeking, for bread shall\n stretch forth the hand.' 975\n 'Thou shalt learn in a fitting measure both rich and poor to\n be,\n Who spendeth as lord at all times no lordly soul hath he--\n Yet who heapeth o'er-much his treasure he winneth methinks\n but shame,\n But give thou unto each their honour, so best shalt thou\n guard thy fame.'\n\n 'I saw well as thou earnest hither that thou hadst of my\n counsel need-- 980\n Yield not unto ways discourteous but give to thy bearing\n heed,\n _Nor be thou so swift to question_--Yet I would not that thou\n withhold\n An answer good and fitting to the speech one with thee would\n hold.\n Thou canst hear and see, I wot well full five shalt thy\n senses be,\n An thou use them aright, then wisdom it draweth anear to\n thee.' 985\n\n 'In thy wrath remember mercy, and slay not a conquered foe,\n He who to thine arms shall yield him take his pledge and let\n him go;\n Unless he such ill have wrought thee as sorrow of heart doth\n give,\n An my counsel thou fain wouldst follow, then in sooth shalt\n thou let him live.'\n\n 'Full oft shalt thou bear thy harness--When thy knightly task\n is sped 990\n Thy hands and face thou shalt cleanse them from the rust and\n the iron red,\n For such is in truth thy duty, so thy face shall be fair and\n bright,\n And when maiden's eyes behold thee they shall deem thee a\n goodly sight.'\n\n 'Be manly and of good courage, so shalt thou deserve thy\n fame;\n Hold women in love and honour, it shall be to thine own good\n name; 995\n And be ever steadfast-minded as befitteth good man and true,\n An with lies thou wouldst fain deceive them much harm can thy\n dealings do.\n If true love be repaid with falsehood then swift shalt the\n judgment be,\n And a speedy end to all honour and renown shall it bring to\n thee.\n As beneath the stealthy footsteps of the thief the dry stick\n breaks, 1000\n And the slumbering watcher, startled, to his danger swiftly\n wakes\n So false ways and dealings crooked in their wake bring but\n strife and woe;\n Prove this by true love, for true women have skill 'gainst\n the hidden foe,\n And their wiles can outweigh his cunning--An thou winnest\n from women hate,\n Then for ever art thou dishonoured, and shame on thy life\n shall wait.' 1005\n\n 'So take thou to heart my counsel--And more would I tell to\n thee;\n Husband and wife united as one shall they ever be,\n As the sun that this morning shineth, and this morn that we\n call to-day,\n So the twain may be sundered never but _one_ shall be held\n alway.\n As twin blossoms from one root springing e'en so shall they\n bloom and grow; 1010\n With wisdom receive my counsel that its truth thou hereafter\n know.'\n\n Then he thanked his host for his teaching, nor spake of his\n mother more,\n But as true man and son so loving in his heart her memory\n bore.\n\n Then the prince spake as did him honour, 'Yet more will I\n teach to thee,\n Thou shalt learn knightly skill and bearing--In such wise\n didst thou come to me, 1015\n Full many a wall have I looked on that the shields might\n better deck\n Than that shield erewhile became thee, as it hung there\n around thy neck.\n None too late shall be the morning, we'll hence to the open\n field,\n And fitting skill I'll teach thee that thine arms thou mayst\n rightly wield.\n So bring to my guest his charger, and mine shalt thou hither\n lead, 1020\n And each knight shall make him ready, and mount, e'en as I,\n his steed.\n And pages shall thither follow, and each one shall bear a\n spear,\n And the shaft shall be strong and untested, and blazoned with\n colours clear.'\n\n So the prince and his guest together they rode to the grassy\n plain,\n And many a feat so skilful was shown by that knightly train. 1025\n And the lad he learned how to check him his charger in\n seeming flight\n With touch of spur, and turn him once more 'gainst the\n foeman's might;\n His spear to sink as needed, and before him hold his shield\n As he rode a joust; 'Thus shalt thou thine arms in future\n wield!'\n\n Thus of lack of skill he cured him better than by the bough 1030\n That smiteth unruly children and breaketh their skin I trow.\n Then he bade swift knights come hither, and a joust with the\n stranger ride,\n And himself to the ring he led him, and against the foe would\n guide;\n And the lad in his first joust carried his spear through the\n foeman's shield,\n And tho' strong was the knight yet he smote him from his\n steed on the open field. 1035\n\n And they marvelled much who beheld it--Then another to joust\n rode near,\n And Parzival took unto him a fresh and unbroken spear,\n And his youth had strength and courage--The beardless lad and\n fair\n Was spurred by his inborn manhood, and to Gamuret's skill was\n heir--\n Then he urged his charger onward full swiftly against the\n foe, 1040\n And his spear rang true on the four nails, and struck nor too\n high nor low,\n Nor the host's knight might keep his saddle, but prone on the\n sward he fell,\n Of the spear-shaft full many a splinter the force of the blow\n might tell.\n Thus five of the knights were smitten ere the host to the\n Burg would ride,\n And the victory was his, and hereafter fierce strife might he\n well abide. 1045\n\n Then they who his deeds had witnessed, the wise men, they\n needs must say\n That great was the skill and valour he had shown in the joust\n that day,\n 'Our lord may be free of sorrow, and his youth it may bloom\n anew\n If he give him to wife his daughter, our lady so fair and\n true.\n If we see him wax in wisdom then the sorrow shall be\n o'erpast-- 1050\n The death of his sons a shadow o'erlong o'er his life hath\n cast,\n But now to his door hath ridden one who maketh amends for\n all,\n And gladness no more shall fly him, but it seeketh his palace\n hall!'\n\n Then homeward they turned at even when the board for the\n feast was spread,\n And the prince bade his daughter hither (for so I the tale\n have read) 1055\n As he saw the maid draw near him the host to Liass\u00e9 spake,\n 'To this knight shalt thou do all honour, and a kiss from his\n lips shalt take,\n With Good Fortune for guide he fareth! And of _thee_ would I\n pray this thing,\n If token perchance she beareth, thou wilt leave to the maid\n her ring--\n Yet none hath she, nor clasp--Who should give her what that\n forest princess wore? 1060\n For _she_ won from the hand of her husband what thine hand\n from her raiment tore,\n From _Liass\u00e9_ canst thou take little'--Then the lad he must\n blush for shame,\n On her lips did kiss the maiden, and her mouth it was red as\n flame.\n And Liass\u00e9 was fair to look on, and gentle of heart and pure,\n And a hero might well have loved her with a love that should\n aye endure. 1065\n\n Full long and low was the table, nor many might sit thereat,\n At its head was the prince so kindly, and his guest by his\n side he set\n Betwixt him and his daughter, and the maiden with snow-white\n hand\n Must carve, as he willed, for the Red Knight, so her father\n would give command,\n And courteous, she did his bidding, and none did the twain\n prevent 1070\n As shy glances rosy-blushing, they each to the other sent!\n\n The feast over, the maiden left them, but she bade not the\n guest 'Farewell,'\n For twice seven days in honour Parzival with his host did\n dwell.\n But within his heart lay a sorrow, 'twas no other I ween than\n this,\n He would he enough had striven to be worthy of wedded bliss, 1075\n And he thought him a goal so worthy must lead to a guerdon\n high\n Both in this life and e'en in the other--And these words they\n shall be no lie.\n\n One morning for leave he prayed him, from Graharz he fain\n would ride,\n And his host, sore loth to lose him, awhile rode his steed\n beside.\n Fresh sprang of grief the fountain as the prince spake, 'I\n lose once more 1080\n A son, Death of _three_ hath robbed me, thy loss now shall\n make them _four_.\n And threefold it was, my sorrow--Who my heart would in pieces\n smite\n Fourfold and from hence would bear them, in the pain should I\n find delight.\n _One_ for thee, since thou ridest from me, and _three_ for my\n three sons slain--\n Bravely they fell in battle, such guerdon doth knighthood\n gain!' 1085\n\n 'And its end is of sorrow woven--One death all my joy doth\n lame,\n The death of my son so gallant, Schenteflur did they call his\n name;\n When Kondwiramur her kingdom and herself would withhold with\n strife\n From Klamid\u00e9 the king, and Kingron, in her aid did he lose\n his life,\n And my heart with the thrust of sorrow, as a hedge is it\n pierc\u00e8d thro'. 1090\n Now all too soon dost thou leave me since no comfort from\n thee I drew,\n Ah! would Death were here my portion since Liass\u00e9, that\n maiden bright,\n And the land I had deemed so goodly find no favour in this\n thy sight!'\n\n 'My other son, Count Laskoit, by Id\u00ear son of Noit was slain\n Anent a hawk--Little gladness from his death I methinks might\n gain-- 1095\n Gurzgrei did they call my third son, to whom Mahaut gave her\n heart,\n As his wife did he win the maiden from her brother proud\n Ekun\u00e2t.\n 'Gainst Brandigan on a venture for Schoie-de-la-kurt he'ld\n ride,\n And the Prince Mabonagrein smote him, and there by his hand\n he died.\n And Mahaut she lost her beauty, and his mother, my wife, lay\n dead, 2000\n For thro' sorrow and bitter yearning the days of her life\n were sped.'\n\n Then the guest saw his host's deep sorrow as he told unto him\n his woe,\n And he quoth, 'Little wisdom have I, yet if ever the day I\n know\n When I win knightly fame and honour, so that maiden I well\n may woo,\n Thou shalt give unto me Liass\u00e9, thy daughter so fair and\n true. 2005\n Thou hast told me of o'er-much sorrow; if thy grief I may\n lift from thee\n From the load of so sore a burden I gladly will set thee\n free!'\n\n Then leave from the prince so kindly the young knight that\n morn would pray,\n And from all his gallant vassals; and he rode from their land\n away;\n And the prince, in the game of sorrow, tho' heavy before his\n throw, 2010\n Had lost yet more, for from threefold to fourfold his grief\n must grow.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IV\n\nKONDWIRAMUR\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBOOK IV. tells how Parzival came to Pelrap\u00e4r, and found it\n besieged\nby sea and land, and the folk wasted by famine. How Queen\n Kondwiramur\nbesought his aid; how he overthrew Kingron, and sent him to the\n court\nof King Arthur. How Parzival wedded the Queen; and of the wrath\n of King\nKlamid\u00e9 when he heard the tidings. How the Burgers defended\n Pelrap\u00e4r\nagainst their foemen; how Klamid\u00e9 challenged Parzival to single\n combat,\nand was overthrown; and how he came to the court of King Arthur\n at\nDianasdron. Of the love of Parzival and Kondwiramur; and how the\n hero\nparted from his wife, and went in search of knightly venture.\n\n BOOK IV\n\n KONDWIRAMUR\n\n Thus Parzival parted from them, and courteous he now might\n bear\n His knightly garb, and he knew them, the customs of\n knighthood fair.\n But alas! he full sore was troubled with many a bitter pain,\n And the world was too close, and too narrow the width of the\n spreading plain,\n And the greensward he thought was faded, and his harness had\n paled to white; 5\n So the heart the eye constraineth and dimmeth awhile the\n sight.\n\n For since he had waxed less simple somewhat of his father's\n lore,\n The desire of the man for the maiden, in his wakening heart\n he bore;\n And he thought but of fair Liass\u00e9, that maiden so true and\n sweet,\n How never her love she proffered, yet with honour the guest\n would greet. 10\n And wherever his horse might turn it he took in his grief no\n heed,\n And if slowly it paced or swiftly he thought not to guide its\n speed.\n\n Nor many a field well-fenc\u00e8d nor wayside cross he found;\n Nor chariot-wheel nor horse-hoof had furrowed with tracks the\n ground;\n Untrodden the woodland pathway, nor wide was I ween the way, 15\n And he knew not the hills and the valleys--Full oft shall ye\n hear men say,\n 'Who rideth astray, in his wandering the lost axe may often\n find.'\n They lay here unnumbered round him, if for _axe_ ye have\n _trees_ in mind.\n Yet tho' far was the road he journeyed yet he went in no wise\n astray,\n And thus from the land of Graharz he rode through the\n livelong day, 20\n Till he came to the kingdom of Brobarz thro' mountains wild\n and high--\n When the shadows of evening lengthened, and red flushed the\n western sky,\n Then he came to a mountain torrent, and the voice of the\n raging flood\n Rang clear as its waves rushed foaming round the crags that\n amid them stood.\n So he rode adown by the waters till he came to the city fair 25\n Which a king had bequeathed to his daughter; 'twas the city\n of Pelrap\u00e4r,\n And I wot that tho' fair the maiden who bare of that land the\n crown,\n Great grief and small gladness had they who dwelt in that\n noble town!\n\n Like an arrow that swiftly speedeth from the bow by a strong\n arm bent,\n The waters onward rushing on their downward pathway went; 30\n And a bridge hung high above them with woven work so fair,\n And the stream it flowed swift to the ocean--Well-guarded was\n Pelrap\u00e4r,\n As children in swings delight them, and swing themselves to\n and fro,\n So swung the bridge, yet ropeless, youthful gladness it\n scarce might know!\n\n And on either side were standing, with helmets for battle\n bound, 35\n Of knights e'en more than thirty, and they bade him to turn\n him round,\n And with lifted swords, tho' feeble, the strife would they\n gladly wait,\n They thought 'twas the King Klamid\u00e9 whom they oft had seen of\n late,\n So royally rode the hero to the bridge o'er the field so\n wide--\n As thus to the youth they shouted, and with one voice his\n arms defied, 40\n Tho' he spurred his steed full sharply it shrank from the\n bridge in fright,\n But ne'er knew he a thought of terror--To the ground sprang\n the gallant knight.\n And he led his horse by the bridle where the bridge hung high\n in air,\n Too faint were a coward's courage so bitter a strife to dare!\n And well must he watch his footsteps for he feared lest his\n steed should fall-- 45\n From the other side of the water the knights had ceased their\n call,\n And with shield and sword-blade gleaming within the town they\n passed,\n For they feared lest an army followed, and they closed their\n portals fast.\n\n So Parzival crossed the river, and he rode o'er a grassy\n plain\n Where many in search of knighthood must death for their\n guerdon gain; 50\n And he came to the palace portal, and stately the Burg and\n high,\n And there hung there a ring of iron, and he gripped it right\n manfully.\n But none to his call made answer, save only a maiden bright\n Who looked forth from out her window, and was 'ware of the\n gallant knight.\n Spake the maiden so fair and courteous, 'An thou comest, Sir\n Knight, as foe, 55\n Little need have we of thine hatred, for heavy enough our\n woe,\n A wrathful host doth threaten already by sea and land!'\n Then he quoth, 'Nay, gentle lady, at thy portals a man doth\n stand\n Who will, if he can, do thee service! For thy service my hand\n is fain,\n And never reward save thy greeting as payment I think to\n gain.' 60\n Then the maiden she went in her wisdom to the queen and an\n entrance prayed\n For the knight, and in sooth his coming it brought to their\n sorrow aid.\n\n So Parzival came to the city; down the roadway on either hand\n The folk who would fain defend them in close groups he saw\n them stand,\n Soldiers on foot, and slingers, and they who the dart could\n throw, 65\n He saw as he came towards them, in many a goodly row.\n And many a squire so valiant, the bravest from out the land,\n Long, sharp, and strong were the lances they bare in each\n strong right hand.\n There too, so the story telleth, was many a merchant grave,\n And the javelin and axe were their weapons, so their lady\n commandment gave. 70\n\n And their skins, they were loose for hunger--Then the Marshal\n of the queen\n Made his way thro' their ranks to the castle, and heavy his\n task I ween.\n And well was that castle guarded, with towers o'er the\n chambers high;\n And barbican, keep, and oriel in such numbers they met his\n eye\n That buildings so strong and so many in his lifetime he never\n saw, 75\n And on horse or afoot from all sides the knights to his\n welcome draw.\n 'Twas a sorry host, for as ashes some were grey, some were\n pale as clay,\n (My lord the Count of Wertheim sure had starved on such\n scanty pay!)\n\n Thro' want full sore they hungered, nor cheese, nor bread,\n nor meat\n Had they, and their teeth were idle since naught might they\n find to eat. 80\n And their palate knew naught of the flavour of the wine-cup,\n or red or white,\n And their doublet hung loosely on them, and wasted each limb\n of might,\n And their skin like wrinkled leather on each rib hung gaunt\n and grim,\n For hunger their flesh had wasted and driven from every limb.\n Thro' want must they sorely suffer, little grease in their\n fuel ran-- 85\n (A hero to this had forced them, the proud King of Brandigan,\n Thus they paid for Klamid\u00e9's wooing)--The mead might they\n seldom spill,\n For small was their store, I think me, the vessel or cup to\n fill.\n In Tr\u00fchending oft shall ye hearken the hiss of the frying\n cake,\n In such music, methinks, but seldom the folk might their\n pleasure take! 90\n\n (And if for such want I'ld mock them, then in truth must I\n share their shame,\n For there where I oft dismount me, where men do me '_Master_'\n name,\n At home in mine house, with trouble e'en the mice shall their\n portion steal,\n Nor oft for their food be joyful! Nor need they the bread\n conceal,\n Unhidden, I scarce may find it--Yea, oft doth it happen so, 95\n And I, Wolfram of Eschenbach, ofttimes such pleasure and ease\n may know.)\n\n But enough of my lamentation, once more ye the tale shall\n hear\n How the city was full of sorrow, and for gladness they paid\n full dear.\n How these heroes, so rich in courage, must in need and in\n scarceness live,\n For so did the manhood bid them, to their need shall ye pity\n give-- 100\n For their life stood in pledge, might He free it in Whose\n Hand all power shall be!--\n Yet more of their grief would I tell ye that ye mourn for\n them bitterly,\n With shame their guest did they welcome, for they deemed him\n so rich and great\n That he craved not thro' need their shelter; he knew naught\n of their poor estate.\n\n On the grass did they spread a carpet, where a linden was\n walled around, 105\n And trained to a welcome shadow--'Neath its boughs they his\n arms unbound,\n And the vassals they took his harness; but other than theirs\n his face\n When he in the streamlet washed it, and cleansed it from red\n rust trace;\n Nay, the sunlight's rays were sham\u00e8d 'neath the glow of his\n beauty bright,\n And a worthy guest they thought him as they gazed on the\n gallant knight. 110\n Then a mantle rich they brought him e'en like to the robe he\n bare,\n And new was the smell of the sable wherewith it was garnished\n fair.\n\n Then they spake, 'Wilt thou look upon her, the queen, our\n lady true?'\n And the knight made answer straightway, that thing would he\n gladly do.\n To the palace they came, and the stairway steep and high to\n the portal led, 115\n And the light of a fair face met him when his footsteps so\n far were sped.\n Of his eyes should she be the sweetness--There shone from\n that lady bright\n A radiant glow and dazzling, ere she welcomed the stranger\n knight.\n Now Kiot of Katelangen and Manfilot, Dukes the twain,\n Led hither their brother's daughter who as queen o'er this\n land did reign: 120\n (For the love of God their harness, shield, and sword, had\n they put away\n These princes true and stalwart, fair of face tho' their hair\n was grey.)\n Midway adown the staircase all courteous the maid they led,\n And she kissed the gallant hero, and the lips of the twain\n were red;\n And she gave him her hand, and she led him, Sir Parzival, to\n the hall, 125\n And they sat them adown together in the midst of the\n courtiers all.\n\n And feeble and faint the maidens, and the knights who stood\n there around,\n And vassal alike and hostess, small joy in their life they\n found.\n Yet Kondwiramur, her beauty did high o'er all others stand,\n Were it Enid, or fair Jeschut\u00e9 or Kunnewaar\u00e9 of far Lalande, 130\n Whoe'er men had deemed the fairest when they women's beauty\n weighed,\n Their fame to the earth was smitten by the glance of this\n royal maid.\n Yea, even the twain Isold\u00e9, tho' men praise them evermore,\n They must yield the crown of beauty to the lady Kondwiramur.\n (And her name in our tongue betokens her shapely form and\n fair) 135\n And well had they done, the mothers, who had borne such a\n goodly pair\n As these twain who sat here together, naught did they who\n stood around\n But gaze on the one and the other--Many friends had our hero\n found.\n\n And the thoughts of the knight will I tell ye, _'There_\n Liass\u00e9, Liass\u00e9 _here_,--\n God will free me from care since I see here Liass\u00e9 that\n maiden dear 140\n The child of a gallant father!'--Yet her fairness was naught\n I wot,\n 'Gainst her beauty who sat beside him, in whom God no wish\n forgot.\n (The maiden was queen of the country) Yea, e'en as by morning\n dew\n Refreshed, the rose from its calyx forth buddeth in beauty\n new,\n And is white and red together--And grief to her guest it\n wrought, 145\n To whose courtesy naught was lacking since Gurnemanz' side he\n sought,\n And his words had from folly freed him; and had bidden him\n questions spare\n Save only where they were needful--So he sat by that lady\n fair,\n And never a word his lips spake, tho' he sat close the maid\n beside--\n Yet to those who know more of woman such silence doth oft\n betide. 150\n\n Then the queen to herself said softly, 'This man disdaineth\n me,\n He deemeth my fairness faded. Nay, perchance it yet may be\n That in this thing he doeth wisely, his hostess in sooth am\n I,\n And he is my guest, the first speech should be mine\n assuredly!\n Gently he looks upon me tho' never a word we speak, 155\n And courteous hath been his bearing, 'twere well I the\n silence break;\n Too long have I yet delayed me since here side by side we\n sit.'\n To her guest did she turn, the maiden, and she spake as it\n seemed her fit:\n\n 'Sir Knight, it were well as hostess that the first words\n came from me,\n Since I wot well my kiss as hostess a greeting hath won from\n thee, 160\n And thou offeredst me thy service, so my maiden hath borne me\n word,\n Our guests scarce are wont to do so, tho' the tidings I fain\n had heard.\n Now tell me, my guest, I prithee, since the tale I am fain to\n know,\n From whence art thou come to my kingdom, and whither thou yet\n wouldst go?'\n 'Lady, at early morning I rode from my host away, 165\n A brave knight is he and faithful, yet he sorroweth sore\n to-day,\n And Prince Gurnemanz do men call him, in Graharz he holds\n command,\n From thence I to-day have ridden, thence came I unto this\n land!'\n\n Then the noble maiden answered, 'Sir Knight, had another told\n This tale, methinks that scarcely for truth I the words might\n hold, 170\n That thou in one day hadst ridden a journey that scarce in\n twain\n My swiftest squire could compass, tho' his charger he spurred\n amain!\n Thy host was my mother's brother; his daughter's youthful\n glow,\n It hath paled before the sorrow which she, e'en as I, must\n know.\n For many sad days and mournful, with sad eyes we've wept our\n fill 175\n I, and the maid Liass\u00e9--Wouldst thou show to thy host\n goodwill?\n Then thou shalt with us, man and woman, this night-tide our\n sorrow share,\n Thou shalt serve him thereby; and I'll tell thee the want we\n perforce must bear.'\n\n Then out spake her uncle Kiot, 'Lady, I send to thee\n Twelve loaves of bread, and of shoulders and hams do I give\n thee three, 180\n And eight cheeses too are with them, and two casks of wine I\n trow,\n And my brother, he too shall aid thee, of such aid hast thou\n need enow!'\n And Manfilot spake, 'Yea, Lady, I send thee the self-same\n fare.'\n And the maiden she sat in gladness, and of thanks she no word\n would spare.\n Then leave they craved from their lady, and forth would the\n old men ride 185\n To their hunting-house that was nigh there--But the cell\n where they would abide,\n Was in Alpine wilds so lonely, there unarmed did they dwell\n afar,\n And never a foeman vexed them with tumult or strife of war.\n\n And the messenger sped full swiftly, and the fainting folk\n were fed,\n No Burger within the city but was lacking for other bread, 190\n And many were dead of hunger ere food for their need was\n found.\n Then the queen she bade them share it to the feeble folk\n around,\n With the cheese, the flesh, and the red wine, as Parzival\n counsel gave,\n Scarce a morsel was left, yet they shared it, the queen and\n her guest so brave.\n\n And swiftly the store had vanished, tho' to many who yet\n might live, 195\n Nor were slain by cruel hunger this succour fresh life might\n give.\n Then they bade them a couch make ready for the guest, and\n 'twas soft his bed,\n (Had the Burgers been hawks for the hunting methinks they\n were not o'er-fed\n As their scanty board bare witness) yea, the folk there, one\n and all,\n Bare the marks of bitter hunger, save the gallant Parzival. 200\n\n Then leave he prayed of his hostess, he would lay him down to\n rest.\n Do ye think that for tapers straw-wisps must light so brave a\n guest?\n Nay, better were they I think me; he betook him, the hero\n fair,\n To a bed so rich and stately a king well might slumber there,\n Nor of poverty bare it token, and a carpet before it lay. 205\n Then he prayed the knights to go hence, nor longer there\n delay,\n And noble lads un-shod him, and straightway he fell asleep,\n Till the cry of heart-sorrow woke him, and tears that bright\n eyes should weep.\n\n This chanced e'en as I will tell ye; no woman's law she\n brake,\n For pure was she aye, the maiden of whom this venture spake. 210\n Long stress of war constrained her, and the death of her\n champion true,\n So heavy her heart with sorrow that sleep from her eyelids\n flew,\n So she went, this royal lady, (but never such love to claim\n As urgeth a gentle maiden to crave of a _wife_ the name)\n But she sought help and friendly counsel, tho' clad in a\n warlike gear, 215\n A silken shift, (strife she wakeneth who doth thus to a man\n draw near.)\n And the maiden she wrapped around her a mantle of samite\n long,\n And she went as her steps were guided by sorrow and bitter\n wrong.\n\n Her maidens and waiting women who lay there around her bed\n She left them slumbering softly, and with noiseless footsteps\n sped 220\n To a chamber, there, e'en as she bade them, Parzival all\n lonely lay,\n And around his couch the tapers burnt bright as the light of\n day.\n To his bed she turned her footsteps, and she knelt low his\n couch before,\n But no thought of love unlawful the heart of either bore.\n Of joy bereft was the maiden, his help she was fain to claim, 225\n If awhile they lay there together it brought unto neither\n shame.\n\n So bitter the maiden's sorrow that there fell full many a\n tear\n On Parzival, and her weeping thro' his slumbers the knight\n might hear,\n And waking, he looked upon her, and sorrow and joy he felt,\n And he rose up, the youthful hero, as the maiden before him\n knelt, 230\n And he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, wilt thou now make a\n mock of me?\n To God only, and never to mortal methinks shouldst thou bow\n the knee.\n But rise thou and sit beside me, or grant me I pray this\n grace,\n Lay thyself down where I was lying, I will seek me some other\n place!'\n But she spake, '_Thyself_ wilt thou honour, and show honour\n alike to me, 235\n And by never a touch wilt shame me, I will e'en lay me down\n by thee.'\n Then the knight he spake by his knighthood he would e'en do\n as he should say,\n So down on the bed beside him in peace the maiden lay.\n\n Tho' well sped were the hours of the night-time no cock did\n they hear to crow,\n Empty and bare the perches, for the famine had left them so. 240\n Then the maiden, grieving sorely, prayed him courteous her\n plaint to hear,\n ''Twill rob thee of sleep an I tell thee, and work to thee\n ill I fear.\n My foeman the King Klamid\u00e9, and Kingron his seneschal,\n My castles and lands have wasted, yea, all but this citadel.\n My father, King Tampent\u00e4re, by his death me, poor orphan,\n left 245\n In peril and need so deadly, of all hope am I well-nigh reft.\n Kinsmen and princes many, and vassals, both rich and poor,\n Yea, a mighty army served me, but they serve me now no more.\n One half, nay, far more I think me, in defence of my land are\n slain,\n Alas! whence shall I, poor maiden, or gladness or succour\n gain? 250\n In such sore strait do I find me, I am ready myself to kill\n Ere my maidenhood and this body I yield to Klamid\u00e9's will.\n His wife he is fain to make me, yet his was the hand that\n slew\n My Knight Schenteflur, the hero, whose heart was both brave\n and true,\n And the flower was he of all manhood, falsehood he ne'er\n might know, 255\n Who was brother unto Liass\u00e9, and she too shall share my woe.'\n\n But e'en as she named Liass\u00e9 then sorrow awoke anew\n In his heart who would fain do service, and his spirit, so\n high and true,\n Sank, as sinketh a hill to the valley, at the thought of that\n maiden dear;\n Yet he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, how best may I serve\n thee here?' 260\n 'Sir Knight an thou couldst but rid me of Kingron the\n seneschal;\n In knightly joust of my warriors full many before him fell.\n With the morning again he cometh, and he thinketh that free\n from harm\n His lord soon shall lie, my husband, in the clasp of my\n circling arm.\n My Burg hast thou seen, and thou knowest how lofty its towers\n and high, 265\n Yet down to the moat below them will I fling myself joyfully,\n Ere of maidenhood King Klamid\u00e9 shall rob me against my will,\n If no better may be, then by dying, his boasting I yet may\n still!'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Lady, French or Breton, of what country\n soe'er he be,\n From Kingron my hand shall shield thee, with what power may\n be given to me.' 270\n The night was spent, with the dawning the queen she arose\n again,\n Lowly she bent before him, nor from thanks would her lips\n restrain.\n Then she passed from the chamber softly, and no man might be\n aware,\n Tho' wise were he else, of her errand, save only the knight\n so fair.\n\n Nor Parzival longer slumbered, for the sun was swift to rise, 275\n And it pierced thro' the clouds of morning, and smote on his\n wakened eyes;\n And he heard the sweet bells chiming, as the folk church and\n minster sought,\n For Klamid\u00e9 their joy had banished, and their land in sore\n peril brought.\n\n Then up rose the young knight also; the chaplain was in his\n place\n And he sang to God and his lady; and the guest saw the\n maiden's face, 280\n And he gazed till the Mass was ended, and the benediction\n o'er.\n Then he bade them to bring his harness, and soon was he armed\n once more,\n A good knight and strong they deemed him, in gallant armour\n fair.\n Then on came Klamid\u00e9's army with banners borne high in air.\n And Kingron, he came full swiftly, he sped far before the\n force, 285\n And, so hath the story told me, of Iserterre's land his\n horse.\n And there waited before the portal the son of King Gamuret,\n And the prayers and the hopes of the townsfolk on the\n youthful knight were set.\n\n Nor with sword he ere this had striven--From afar did he aim\n his stroke,\n And so swift his joust, in the meeting the gear of both\n chargers broke, 290\n And their girths were burst asunder, and each steed to its\n knees was brought,\n And the heroes who yet bestrode them of their swords must\n they needs take thought;\n In their scabbards did they find them--And already did\n Kingron bear\n Wounds in arm and breast, and I wot me that loss was his\n portion there.\n For this joust brought him loss of the glory that methinks\n had been his alway 295\n Till he met with this knight, and their meeting, of his pride\n was the dying day.\n And valiant did men account him, six knights had he prostrate\n laid\n Who rode in one field against him, yet here was he well\n repaid\n By Parzival's right hand valiant, and Kingron the seneschal\n Thought strange was indeed his peril, for _stones_ surely on\n him fell 300\n Cast forth from a mighty engine--Other arms wrought his\n overthrow,\n For a sword clave clean thro' his helmet, and Parzival laid\n him low,\n And he knelt with one knee upon him, and he bade him\n forthwith to give\n What he ne'er to a foe had given, his pledge, an he fain\n would live.\n But he thought not to be his captor who had vanquished him\n here in field, 305\n But he bade him ride hence to Graharz and his pledge to its\n lord to yield.\n\n 'Nay, Sir Knight, thou hadst better slay me, 'twas I who slew\n his son,\n 'Twas my hand of life that robbed him, Schenteflur--Thou from\n God hast won\n Great honour, yea, men shall praise thee for the strength\n that thou here hast shown,\n Of a sooth art thou here the victor, and Good Fortune shall\n be thine own.' 310\n Quoth Parzival, 'Yet another is the choice I will give to\n thee,\n Yield thou to the queen whom thy master in his wrath wronged\n so grievously!'\n 'Nay! Then were I lost of a surety, for I wot with their\n sword-blades keen\n My body they'ld hew in pieces, small as dust in the sun is\n seen!\n Such sorrow of heart, I think me, and grief thro' my hand\n they win, 315\n Full many a gallant hero who dwelleth those walls within.'\n\n 'Then hence from this plain shalt thou journey to the kingdom\n of Brittany,\n And bear to a gentle maiden thy pledge and thy fealty.\n For she for my sake hath suffered a sorrow she ne'er had\n borne,\n Had not Kay been of knightly customs, and of courtesy fair\n forsworn. 320\n Say to her how with me it fareth, that I come not in joy\n again\n Till my spear, thro' his shield sharp-piercing, hath wiped\n out her honour's stain.\n To King Arthur and to his lady, and the knights of the Table\n Round\n Bear my greeting, and say in their presence shall I never\n again be found\n Till the day I from shame have freed me; from the shame which\n _I_ too must share 325\n With the maiden who smiled upon me, and great grief for that\n greeting bare.\n Say to _her_ I am aye her servant, to serve her with service\n fain!'\n So Kingron must swear unto him ere they parted, those heroes\n twain.\n\n Thus he came afoot to the city, for thither had fled his\n steed,\n The Burgers' help in battle, from their anguish the folk he\n freed. 330\n But the outer host was troubled that Kingron, their chosen\n knight,\n In this wise had been dishonoured, and broken his dauntless\n might.\n Then they led Parzival in triumph to their queen so fair and\n young,\n And the maiden was fain to greet him, and her white arms\n around him clung,\n And in close embrace she held him as she spake, 'The wide\n earth doth hold 335\n No man I will have for my husband save him whom these arms\n enfold!'\n And as here they disarmed the hero her part would the maiden\n bear\n With ready hand and skilful, nor her service she thought to\n spare.\n\n But tho' heavy had been his labour, yet scanty, I ween, the\n board.\n And the Burgers they came before him, and they sware him with\n one accord 340\n They would have him for lord and master; and the queen in her\n turn she spake,\n And she said that this knight so valiant for her love and her\n lord she'ld take\n Who had won him a fame so mighty o'er Kingron the seneschal--\n But now from the castle bulwarks two sails might be seen by\n all,\n A strong wind to the haven brought them, and their lading\n must needs make glad 345\n The folk, they bare naught but victuals,--God's guidance they\n surely had!\n\n Then they rushed adown from the ramparts, and swift to the\n ships they fled,\n The hungry crowd, for the booty, as leaves by the wind are\n sped.\n With flesh they were not o'erweighted, so wasted and thin\n were they,\n Nor they strutted with well-filled belly, but bending they\n went their way. 350\n The queen's marshal he sware the shipmen, by the doom of the\n hempen cord,\n Safe conduct for life and lading, none should touch that\n which lay aboard.\n Then he bade them to lead these merchants straightway into\n the town,\n And Parzival for their lading the double he paid them down,\n And gladly the merchants took it, for princely they deemed\n such pay; 355\n And the Burgers these welcome viands to their fires did they\n bear straightway.\n\n Now fain would I there take service, no man of them all drank\n beer,\n Wine and food had they there in plenty--Then he did as you\n now shall hear,\n Parzival, the gallant hero, for first in portions small,\n With his own right hand he shared out the viands among them\n all, 360\n Yea, even unto the nobles; so long had they lacked for bread,\n He feared it had wrought them evil if perchance they were\n over-fed.\n But to each one he gave his portion, and his counsel they\n deemed it right,\n And more should they win ere nightfall from the hand of this\n gallant knight.\n\n To their marriage couch they bade them, 'twas the will both\n of king and queen-- 365\n Yet throughout the night so courteous he bare him, in truth I\n ween,\n He little had pleased those ladies who now, in these latter\n days,\n In passion's heat forget all that should win for a woman\n praise;\n Tho' modest they seem to strangers, yet their heart gives\n their mien the lie,\n And their tenderness worketh sorrow to their friend, tho' in\n secrecy. 370\n But the steadfast knight and faithful guards himself at every\n hour,\n And well knoweth to spare a woman an she chanceth within his\n power.\n For he thinketh, and thinketh truly, 'For many a lonely year\n For her favours I served this lady; now, behold, the day is\n here\n When her will is to reward me, and here we twain do lie-- 375\n Had I touched with bare hand her vesture I were blest to\n eternity!\n An I vantage take of her slumbers to myself untrue I seem,\n Methinks we were both dishonoured did I waken her from her\n dream,\n For a woman's sleep is holy, and all men shall own its sway.'\n Thus the Waleis, who ne'er had feared him, lay still till the\n dawn of day. 380\n\n Thus he whom men called the Red Knight, a maiden he left the\n queen,\n Yet surely she deemed in the morning his wife she o'er night\n had been,\n And for love of her lord her tresses she bound with the\n morning light\n As matrons are wont to bind them. And he won him, the gallant\n knight,\n Castles and lands around them from the hand of his maiden\n bride, 385\n But her _heart_ was ere this his guerdon, and in peace did\n the twain abide.\n\n Thus glad in their love they held them two days till the\n third night fell,\n And often he thought might he take her to himself it would\n please him well.\n Then he thought of his mother's counsel, and how Gurnemanz\n spake of yore,\n That man and wife should as _one_ be, and the doubt vexed his\n soul no more, 390\n And his wife did he take unto him--Love's custom ever old,\n Yet ever new to lovers, to these twain brought joy untold.\n\n 'Twas well, not evil, with them--Now hear how the king, their\n foe,\n As he rode in his might to battle, must tidings of evil know.\n 'Twas a squire who fain had told them, all crimson his spurs\n with blood; 395\n 'Before Pelrap\u00e4r on the meadow have they foughten those\n heroes good,\n 'Twas a bitter strife and knightly; thy seneschal fell that\n day,\n Kingron, who led thine army, to King Arthur must take his\n way.\n As he in departing bade them lies the army upon the plain.\n Pelrap\u00e4r shalt thou find well guarded 'gainst thyself and\n thine armies twain, 400\n There within is a gallant hero, and naught doth he crave but\n strife;\n In the camp of thy hired soldiers is many a rumour rife,\n They say from the good Round Table cometh Ither of Cumberland\n To the help of the queen, and knightly and valiant methinks\n his hand!\n 'Twas his arms that rode forth for jousting, and no man his\n deeds shall blame, 405\n In such wise hath he borne his armour as winneth him meed of\n fame.'\n\n Quoth the king to the squire, 'My lady, the queen, she\n desireth me,\n And she and her land so goodly I trow shall my portion be.\n And Kingron the seneschal told me, and surely the truth he\n spake,\n That famine doth plague the city, and peace they ere long\n must make, 410\n And the queen she her love shall proffer'--His wrath must the\n squire abide.\n Then the king and his host passed onward, and a knight did\n toward them ride,\n And he spared not his horse but spurred it, and told them the\n self-same tale,\n And the king deemed the loss o'er-heavy, and courage and joy\n must fail.\n\n Then a prince spake from out the army, 'Tho' Kingron hath\n valour shown, 415\n Yet never he fought for _our_ manhood, he fought for himself\n alone.\n Now let him to death be stricken--Why then should they be\n cast down,\n Two hosts, this one, and the army that lieth before the\n town?'\n Then he bade his lord take courage, 'Once more will we try\n our fate,\n Let them look to their arms, the conflict shall be for their\n strength too great, 420\n We will make an end of their gladness! Bid thy vassals and\n kinsmen hear,\n With banners twain before them to the town shall they draw\n anear;\n Down the hill will we ride upon them, but afoot must we storm\n the gate,\n For so shall we work them evil, and victory shall on us\n wait.'\n Galogandres, the Duke of Gippones, it was who this counsel\n gave, 425\n And sorrow he brought on the Burgers--but slain was this hero\n brave,\n And slain, too, the brave Count Narant, a prince from\n Uckerland's shore,\n And many another hero whom dead from the field they bore.\n\n Now hear ye another story, how the Burgers would guard their\n wall.\n Strong stakes of wood sharp-pointed they made fast in\n tree-trunks tall; 430\n (Sore pain thus was wrought the besiegers) and the trunks\n were made fast that day\n To a rope that by wheel was guided, so they guarded their\n walls alway.\n And all this had they done and tested ere Klamid\u00e9 would storm\n the gate\n To avenge the fall of Kingron--There had come to their land\n of late\n Greek fire, for the ships had brought it that of food brought\n a goodly store, 435\n And it burnt of the foe the weapons, and the engines of\n deadly war;\n And battering-ram or tortoise in vain 'gainst the walls were\n wheeled,\n No weapon had they for onslaught but was forced to the flame\n to yield!\n\n Now Kingron the seneschal journeyed till he came on to Breton\n ground,\n In his hunting-house in Briziljan King Arthur at last he\n found, 440\n And Karmin\u00f6l did they call it--As 'fore Pelrap\u00e4r he fought,\n So at Parzival's word his surety to the maid of Lalande he\n brought,\n And glad was fair Kunnewaar\u00e9 that, faithful, he mourned her\n shame\n Whom men there knew as the Red Knight, and this knight at his\n bidding came.\n\n And soon were the wondrous tidings amid the courtiers spread, 445\n And he stood there before King Arthur, a gallant knight\n ill-sped.\n Then he spake unto him and his vassals in such wise as he\n needs must speak,\n And Kay was with terror smitten, and crimson it grew, his\n cheek,\n And he spake, 'Is it thou, O Kingron? Ah! many a Breton\n knight,\n Thou seneschal of Klamid\u00e9, thy hand hath o'erthrown in fight! 450\n If thy captor ne'er look upon me with favour, thine office\n high\n Shall turn to thy good; we are rulers of the caldron, both\n thou and I,\n Of thy wisdom and skill do thou aid me, to win me the favour\n fair\n Of this maiden Kunnewaar\u00e9, and sweet cates for her board\n prepare!'\n\n Nor they asked from him other ransom--Now leave we that tale\n and hear 455\n What had passed since we left the story--So the host to the\n town drew near,\n To Pelrap\u00e4r came the King Klamid\u00e9, and a bitter strife arose.\n The inner host strove with the outer, and in sooth were they\n gallant foes,\n Fresh strength had they won and courage, and bravely they\n held the field;\n And Parzival, lord of the country, in the vanguard he bare\n his shield. 460\n And he swung aloft his weapon, thro' the helm clave the blade\n so keen,\n And the knights he o'erthrew before him found a bitter death\n I ween,\n For there, where the corslet opened, the Burgers they pierced\n them thro',\n In such wise would they take their vengeance--this wrought\n grief to the hero true,\n And Parzival, he forbade them, and they ceased at their\n lord's command, 465\n But of living knights full twenty were captive unto their\n hand.\n\n Yet Parzival well had marked it how the king and his bravest\n knights\n Sought not fame before the portals, but far out in the plain\n would fight;\n Then forth by a path untrodden the hero a circuit made,\n And swiftly he charged where the monarch his banner aloft\n displayed. 470\n And, see! there a mighty slaughter the guard of the king\n befell,\n And the shields they were hewn in pieces, the Burgers they\n fought so well.\n And Parzival's shield had vanished 'fore the blows and the\n sword-blades keen;\n And tho' little his skill rejoiced them, yet all who the\n strife had seen,\n They spoke but to praise his valour--Galogandres the standard\n bare, 475\n (Well he knew how to wake their courage!) but dead lay the\n hero there.\n And Klamid\u00e9 himself stood in peril, and great stress on his\n army lay;\n Then he bade them withdraw, for the valour of the Burgers had\n won the day.\n\n But Parzival, gallant hero, bade them treat their captives\n well\n Till the dawn of the third day's morning, and fear on his\n foemen fell. 480\n Then the young host, proud and joyful, bade the knights on\n their oath go free--\n 'Good friends, when the word I send ye, then wend your way\n back to me!'\n Their swords and their goodly harness as prisoners they needs\n must yield;\n Unarmed did they fare from the city to the host on the outer\n field.\n\n 'For sooth,' spake their comrades mocking, 'from _wine_ must\n ye needs be red, 485\n Poor souls, since within the city ye have hungered for lack\n of bread!'\n 'Nay! nay! ye may spare your pity,' so spake they, the heroes\n good,\n 'If ye lie here a whole year longer, within is such store of\n food,\n That by them might ye well be nourished! And the queen hath\n the fairest knight\n For her husband, that e'er won knighthood, or carried a\n shield in fight, 490\n He may well be of lofty lineage, for he lacketh no knightly\n skill!'\n And the king needs must hear the tidings, and in sooth did\n they please him ill,\n And heralds he sent to the city, and he bade them this\n challenge bear\n To him whom the queen had wedded, 'If this knight the strife\n shall dare,\n And the queen doth hold him worthy herself, and her lands so\n wide, 495\n To defend in single combat, then in peace may our hosts\n abide!'\n\n And Parzival he was joyful at the message the heralds bare,\n And his heart was fain for the combat; and out spake the hero\n fair,\n 'Now I pledge me upon mine honour that no man within this\n wall\n Shall lift his hand for my peril, _alone_ will I stand or\n fall!' 500\n So betwixt the moat and the meadow a truce did they swear\n that day,\n And those smiths of battle armed them as meet for the coming\n fray.\n\n On a gallant war-horse arm\u00e8d sat the King of Brandigan,\n 'Twas hight Guverjorz--This charger with many a gallant man,\n And many a goodly present, from Gringorz his nephew, king 505\n Of Ipotente did Count Narant from the north o'er the deep\n seas bring.\n And therewith were a thousand footmen, well armed save no\n shield had they;\n (If the tale speaketh true to the third year the king had\n made good their pay.)\n And Gringorz sent him knights five hundred, each one with his\n helm on head,\n And skilled were they all in battle; with Klamid\u00e9 they hither\n sped. 510\n And thus had the mighty army, alike both by sea and land,\n Encircled the town of Pelrap\u00e4r, and great need must its folk\n withstand!\n\n Forth rode Parzival from the city to the field that should\n aye declare\n If 'twas God's will his wife to leave him, the child of King\n Tampent\u00e4re.\n Proudly he rode, yet he spurred not his steed to its swiftest\n flight, 515\n And 'twas armed for need, and its covering was a samite of\n red so bright,\n And the iron lay beneath it--And the hero himself shone fair\n In his harness red, red his corslet, and the shield that he\n proudly bare.\n And Klamid\u00e9 began the conflict--A short spear of wood\n unwrought,\n With that would he fell his foeman, and the joust from afar\n he sought; 520\n And Guverjorz sprang forth swiftly, and the joust it was\n ridden well\n By those heroes young and beardless, nor one from his saddle\n fell,\n And never a horse or a rider had foughten a better fight;\n And the steam rose in clouds from the chargers on which sat\n each gallant knight,\n\n And so fierce was the fight that the horses, out-wearied with\n conflict sore, 525\n Stumbled and fell together, in sooth could they do no more.\n And joyful they smote, the heroes, till fire from the helm\n must spring,\n Small time had they there for leisure, but zeal to their task\n must bring;\n And the shields were hewn in pieces, and the splinters were\n tossed on high,\n As shuttlecocks gaily smitten to the winds of heaven fly. 530\n Yet Gamuret's son was unwearied, and never a limb did ache,\n Tho' Klamid\u00e9 deemed that the foemen from the city the truce\n would break.\n Then he bade his fellow-foeman to look to his honour well,\n And stay the hand of the slingers, for the blows heavy on him\n fell\n As of stones shot forth from an engine--But Parzival made\n reply, 535\n 'Nay, safe art thou from the slingers, my word is thy surety,\n Thou hast peace from mine hand, and I swear thee that never a\n sling shall break\n Head, or breast, or thigh, thou art safe here, were it but\n for mine honour's sake!'\n\n All too soon was Klamid\u00e9 wearied and spent with the deadly\n fight,\n Who was victor, and who was vanquished, ere long might be\n seen aright, 540\n And they looked on the King Klamid\u00e9, on the grass was he laid\n alow,\n And Parzival's right hand gripped him till forth streamed the\n crimson flow\n Of blood from the ears and nostrils, and the green turf was\n dyed with red;\n And his foeman unbound the helmet and visor, and bared his\n head,\n The vanquished would face the death-blow, and the victor\n spake, 'Here I free 545\n My wife for aye from thy wooing! Learn thou what Death may\n be!'\n\n 'Nay! nay! thou gallant hero, thirty-fold doth thy glory grow\n Thro' the valour thine hand hath shown here, since in strife\n thou hast laid me low.\n What higher fame dost thou look for? Kondwiramur sure shall\n say\n That Good Fortune hath smiled upon thee, whilst _I_ am\n Misfortune's prey; 550\n Thy land hast thou now delivered--As when one a leaking boat\n Doth free from the load of water, that it light o'er the\n waves may float,\n So lightened am I of honour! Manly honour and joy I trow\n Are waxen thin and faded, what profit to slay me _now_?\n From children and children's children mine heritage shall be\n shame, 555\n To do more here methinks were needless--For joy thou hast won\n and fame,\n And a living death is my portion, since for ever from her I\n part,\n Who fast in love's magic fetters hath held me both mind and\n heart,\n Little good it forsooth hath brought me, ah! most wretched\n henceforth am I,\n And this land and its lovely lady for aye in thy power shall\n lie!' 560\n\n Now he who was here the victor on Gurnemanz' counsel thought,\n How mercy should well beseem him who with manhood had valiant\n fought,\n And he thought him the rede to follow; and thus to the king\n he spake,\n 'I free thee not, to the father of Liass\u00e9 submission make!'\n 'Nay, Sir Knight, I have wrought him evil, 'twas thro' me\n that his son was slain, 565\n An ill-fate wouldst thou bring upon me! The hand of thy queen\n to gain,\n With Schenteflur I battled, and in sooth had I died that day,\n Save that Kingron came to my succour, and his hand did the\n hero slay.\n For Gurnemanz of Graharz had sent him to Brobarz' land\n At the head of a gallant army; 'twas a fair and knightly\n band, 570\n Nine hundred knights who fought well, and rode upon mail-clad\n steeds,\n And fifteen hundred footmen all armed for valiant deeds,\n For naught but shields should fail them--Too great their\n might I thought,\n But the seed of such goodly harvest once more their country\n sought.\n Yet now hath my loss been greater! Of my heroes but few are\n left, 575\n What more would thine hand take from me, who of gladness am\n now bereft?'\n\n 'An easier way I'll show thee, to Brittany shalt thou ride,\n Kingron has gone before thee, there King Arthur he doth\n abide,\n To _him_ shalt thou bear my greeting, and bid him to mourn\n alway\n The shame I bare as my portion when I rode from his court\n away. 580\n A maiden who smiled upon me for my sake was smitten sore--\n Of all that in life e'er grieved me naught ever hath grieved\n me more!\n And that maid shalt thou tell of my sorrow; and thy pledge to\n her hand shalt yield,\n And do even as she shall bid thee--Or die here on this\n foughten field!'\n\n 'So, if here I must choose betwixt them, not long shall my\n choice delay,' 585\n Spake the King of Brandigan swiftly, 'From hence will I ride\n straightway!'\n But his oath did he swear ere he parted whom pride had in\n peril brought.\n Then Parzival, the hero, for his wearied charger sought,\n And his foot touched nor horse nor stirrup as he light to the\n saddle sprung,\n And his steed the hewn shields' splinters around him in\n circles flung. 590\n\n And the Burgers I ween were joyful--but their foemen were sad\n and sore,\n For flesh and bone were wearied, and sorrow of heart they\n bore.\n And they brought King Klamid\u00e9 wounded to those who might give\n him aid,\n And the dead on the bier they bare them, and to rest in the\n grave they laid.\n From many a guest unwelcome the land at last was freed, 595\n And the gallant King Klamid\u00e9 to L\u00f6ver he rode with speed.\n\n Now it fell at this time King Arthur and the knights of the\n Table Round,\n And many another hero, at Dianasdron were found.\n And in sooth no lie I tell ye when I say that this plain so\n good\n Bare of tent-poles a greater number than the trees in\n Spessart's wood. 600\n For 'twas ever the wont of King Arthur the high feast of\n Pentecost\n To keep with his knights and vassals, and of maidens a goodly\n host.\n There were many a noble banner, and many a warlike shield\n With coat of arms emblazoned, and fair tents stood adown the\n field;\n 'Twould be thought of the world a marvel, who should make all\n the travelling gear 605\n For such wondrous host of ladies as those that were gathered\n here!\n And I think me that never a maiden but had counted it to her\n shame\n If no knight mid the knights around her she might as her\n lover claim!\n Came I myself to such gathering, an such youthful knights\n were there,\n I were loth if my wife beside me thro' such tumult were fain\n to fare-- 610\n (Nay, when folk thus come together far liefer were I away)\n May be one might speak unto her, and some such words would\n say--\n 'With love of her was he smitten, and ne'er might he healing\n know\n Save that she herself should heal him. Yea, an but her will\n were so,\n Her knight would he be for ever, to serve her his whole life\n long' 615\n I were swift, with my wife beside me, to flee from such\n foolish throng!\n\n Yet enough of myself have I spoken--Now hear how King\n Arthur's tent\n Might be known apart from the others; before it on gladness\n bent\n He feasted, the king, with his vassals whose hearts never\n falsehood knew,\n And with many a stately maiden, whose thoughts aye to\n jousting flew, 620\n As if with darts they sported, and their friend 'gainst the\n foe would aim,\n And if ill befell their hero with sweet words to his aid they\n came.\n\n Then the youthful King Klamid\u00e9 in the ring would he bridle\n draw;\n His steel-clad limbs and charger the wife of King Arthur saw,\n His helmet and good shield cloven her maidens they saw right\n well-- 625\n So he came to the court, (who had sent him small need have I\n here to tell.)\n So sprang he adown from his charger, and they thronged him on\n either hand\n Ere he came where she sat whom he sought for, Kunnewaar\u00e9 of\n fair Lalande.\n\n And he spake, 'Art thou she, O Lady, to whom I owe service\n fair?\n (Yet need doth in part constrain me) from the Red Knight I\n greeting bear, 630\n He willeth to take upon him the shame that thy lot hath been;\n He prays that King Arthur mourn it--Thou wast smitten for him\n I ween,\n Here, Lady, my pledge I bring thee, so my victor hath bidden\n me,\n Else my body to death were forfeit--I will do here as\n pleaseth thee!'\n\n Then the maiden Kunnewaar\u00e9 by his hand led the gallant knight 635\n Where Queen Guinevere was seated, she ate with her maidens\n bright;\n And Kay uprose from the table as the tidings he needs must\n hear,\n They brought gladness to Kunnewaar\u00e9, but to Kay had they\n wrought but fear.\n\n And he quoth, 'What he speaketh, Lady, who thus unto thee\n hath sped\n He speaketh perforce, yet I think me he greatly hath been\n misled! 640\n I thought but to teach thee better, yet for this cause thou\n hatest me!\n Now bid thou this knight disarm him, for his standing\n o'er-long shall be.'\n\n Then she bade him put off his helmet and visor, the maiden\n true,\n And e'en as the bands were loosened Klamid\u00e9 the king they\n knew,\n And Kingron he looked upon him, and he saw his lord again, 645\n And he wrung his hands in his anguish till as dry twigs they\n cracked amain.\n\n Then the seneschal of Klamid\u00e9, from the table he sprung\n straightway,\n And he asked of his lord the tidings; and joyless was he that\n day,\n For he spake, 'I am born to sorrow; I have lost such a\n gallant host,\n No man that was born of woman, I think me shall more have\n lost. 650\n And the load of such bitter sorrow lieth heavy upon my\n breast,\n And joy is to me a stranger, and gladness a fleeting guest!\n And grey am I grown for the anguish she hath wrought me,\n Kondwiramur,--\n Yea, the sorrow of Pontius Pilate, and false Judas who\n evermore\n Must grieve for his faithless dealings, who did Christ unto\n death betray, 655\n What of punishment God layeth on them that woe would I bear\n alway--\n If so be that the Lady of Brobarz were my wife of goodwill\n and free,\n And mine arms held her fast, I had recked not what hereafter\n should chance to me.\n But, alas! for her love is withholden from the ruler of\n Iserterre,\n And my land and my folk henceforward for her sake shall\n sorrow bear. 660\n Mine uncle's son, Mabonagrein, for her love long hath\n suffered pain;\n And by knightly hand constrain\u00e8d in thy court I, O king, draw\n rein!\n And well dost thou know in my kingdom much harm have I done\n to thee,\n Forget that, true knight and faithful, from thy hate do thou\n set me free\n Since here I abide, a captive--And this maiden my life shall\n shield, 665\n Since I stand in her sight, her servant, and my pledge to her\n hand would yield!'\n Then of knightly heart King Arthur forgave him as he would\n pray,\n And with faithful words, and kindly, showed favour to him\n that day.\n\n Far and wide did they tell the tidings how the King of\n Brandigan\n Rode hither, and man and maiden in thronging crowds they ran. 670\n Then the king he would crave a comrade, and he spake out with\n joyless mien,\n 'Commend me unto Sir Gawain, if thou deemest me worth, O\n Queen!\n Well I know that he would desire it, and if he thy word obey,\n Then he honoureth thee, and the Red Knight shall win praise\n at his hand to-day.'\n Then King Arthur he bade his nephew deal well with the\n captive king, 675\n (Tho' I wot well, without his bidding, Sir Gawain had done\n this thing.)\n And the conquered knight, in whose dealings no falsehood had\n part or share,\n From the vassals and gallant heroes won a welcome both fit\n and fair.\n\n Then Kingron he spake in sorrow, 'Alas! that I needs must see\n The day when in Breton dwellings my king shall a captive be! 680\n For richer wert thou than Arthur, and of vassals a greater\n host\n Hath served thee, nor strength was lacking, and of youth\n canst thou make thy boast.\n Shall men count it to _Arthur's_ honour that Kay in his wrath\n did smite\n A princess whose heart hath shown her the wisdom to choose\n aright,\n And smile upon one whom henceforward all men may with truth\n proclaim 685\n Elect to the highest honour and crown of true knightly fame?\n The tree of their fame these Bretons may deem to have waxen\n high;\n Dead lay Cumberland's king, but I wot well be by no deed of\n theirs must die!\n Nor the fame shall be theirs that, my master, thou didst\n yield to that self-same knight,\n Or that I myself have been vanquished in fair and open fight; 690\n And the sparks sprang bright from our helmets, and our swords\n clave the whistling air\n As for life and death we battled, and men looked on our\n combat fair.'\n\n Then all at the good Round Table, both rich and poor alike,\n With one voice spake that Kay did evil when a maiden he\n thought to strike.\n But now will we leave their story, and fare back unto\n Pelrap\u00e4r 695\n Where Parzival reigned as monarch; the waste lands were\n builded fair,\n And joy was their lot and singing, (and red gold and jewels\n bright\n King Tampent\u00e4re left in the city where awhile he had reigned\n in might)\n Then rich gifts he gave till men loved him for his knightly\n hand and free;\n New shields and costly banners the pride of his land should\n be, 700\n And many a joust and Tourney did he and his heroes ride.\n And e'en on the distant borders in gallant deeds he vied,\n That hero young and dauntless, and no foeman might e'er deny\n That on battle-field or in Tourney his hand won the victory.\n\n And now of the queen would I tell ye--What lot might ye hold\n so fair 705\n As hers, that gentle lady? In earth's joys had she fullest\n share.\n Her love it might bud and blossom, nor weakness nor wavering\n show,\n For the worth of her lord and husband her heart scarce might\n fail to know.\n And each found their life in the other, and each was the\n other's love.\n If, as saith the tale, they were parted, what grief must each\n true heart move! 710\n And I mourn for that gentle lady, her body, her folk, her\n land,\n (So he won of her love the guerdon) had he freed with his\n strong right hand.\n\n Thus courteous he spake one morning (and the knights stood\n their lord beside),\n 'Lady, an it so please thee, give me leave that I hence may\n ride\n And see how my mother fareth, if weal be her lot, or woe, 715\n For naught of all that befalls her methinks I for long may\n know.\n For a short space would I go thither; and if ventures my\n skill approve\n Therewith would I do thee service, and be worthy my lady's\n love.'\n Thus he spake, and the story telleth she thought not to say\n him 'Nay,'\n For she deemed it well; from his vassals all lonely he took\n his way. 720\n\n\n\n\nBOOK V\n\nANFORTAS\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBook V. tells of the wonderful adventure of the Grail Castle; how\nParzival met with the Fisher King, and became his guest; and of\n the\ngreat feast in the hall of Monsalv\u00e4sch. How Parzival saw the\n bleeding\nspear, and all the marvels of the Grail, and how be asked no\n question.\nHow he in the morning found the palace deserted, and was mocked\n by the\nsquire as he rode away. Of Parzival meeting with Sigun\u00e9, and how\n she\nreproached him for his silence. Of Orilus and Jeschut\u00e9; of the\n fight\nbetween the heroes; and of Parzival's oath. How Orilus and his\n wife\nwere made friends again, and of their welcome at the court of\n King\nArthur.\n\n BOOK V\n\n ANFORTAS\n\n Now he who would hear what befell him who thus for ventures\n sought,\n Shall hearken many a marvel ere the tale to an end be wrought\n Let the son of Gamuret ride forth, and all ye good folk and\n true\n Wish him well, for bitter sorrow this hero hereafter knew,\n Tho' honour and joy should crown him--And sorely his heart\n did grieve 5\n That the wife he loved so dearly he now for a space must\n leave.\n For the mouth never read of woman, and never hath tale been\n told\n Of a fairer wife and truer, and his heart did she captive\n hold,\n And his spirit so high was troubled by thoughts of his wife\n and queen--\n Had courage not been his birthright he had lost it ere this,\n I ween! 10\n\n O'er rock and marshy moorland, with loosened reins the steed\n Dashed free, the rider thought not to guide or check its\n speed.\n Of a truth the venture telleth, so far did he ride that day\n E'en a bird had been outwearied, and its flight were fain to\n stay.\n An the tale hath not betrayed me, no further the knight did\n fare 15\n When Ither he slew, or from Graharz rode swift unto Pelrap\u00e4r.\n\n Now hear ye what chanced unto him; he came at the close of\n day\n To a water fair, and upon it many boats at anchor lay,\n And the fishers were lords of the water; to the shore did\n they lie so near\n That e'en as they saw him riding his question they well might\n hear. 20\n And one he saw in a vessel all clad in such royal pride\n Scarce richer had been his vesture were he lord of the world\n so wide;\n Of peacock's plumes his head-gear--Then the knight to the\n Fisher spake\n And he prayed him for knighthood's bidding, and he prayed him\n for God's dear sake,\n To help him unto a shelter where he might thro' the night\n hours rest. 25\n And the Fisher sad he answered in this wise the stranger\n guest;\n\n And he quoth, 'Nay, Sir Knight, I know not for full thirty\n miles around,\n By land alike or water, where dwelling may yet be found\n Save one house, I would bid thee seek it, for it lieth in\n sooth anear,\n Thro' the livelong day wert thou riding none other thou\n findest here. 30\n Ride there to the high cliff's ending, then turn thee to thy\n right hand\n Until to the moat thou comest, and thy charger perforce must\n stand;\n Then bid thou the castle warder to let the drawbridge fall\n And open to thee the portals, then ride thou unto the hall.'\n\n Then he did as the Fisher bade him, and leave would he\n courteous pray, 35\n But he quoth, 'I myself will thine host be, an thou fail not\n to find the way,\n Be thy thanks then as is our tendance--As thou ridest around\n the hill\n Have a care lest the wood mislead thee, such mischance would\n but please me ill.'\n\n Then Parzival turned his bridle, and gaily he took his way,\n Nor missed he the path till before him the moat of the castle\n lay; 40\n And the drawbridge was raised, and the fortress it lacked not\n for strength I trow,\n As a turner with skill had wrought them stood the turrets in\n goodly row.\n But with wings, or on winds of heaven uplifted, might ye have\n won\n To that Burg, an a foeman stormed it little harm he methinks\n had done.\n And so strong were the towers and the palace that its folk\n they had held the hall 45\n And mocked at the foe, if all armies thirty years long beset\n the wall.\n\n Then a squire looked forth from the castle, of the knight was\n he well aware,\n And he asked whence he came? and wherefore he thought to\n their Burg to fare?\n And Parzival spake, ''Tis the Fisher who hath bidden me ride\n to thee,\n With all courtesy have I thanked him for the shelter he\n proffered free, 50\n 'Tis his will that the bridge be lowered, and I ride here the\n Burg within.'\n 'Sir Knight thou shalt here be welcome, and thy way to the\n Burg shalt win\n Since the Fisher so spake--And honour would we shew unto thee\n his guest!'\n Then the squire he let fall the drawbridge, for so was their\n lord's behest.\n\n So the hero came to the fortress, to a courtyard so broad and\n wide, 55\n By knightly sports untrodden--Nor oft would they Tourneys\n ride,\n (By short green turf was it covered) and but seldom with\n banners bright\n As on Abenberg's field did they ride there, as fitting for\n gallant knight.\n 'Twas long since they might disport them in such pastimes of\n warlike skill,\n For sorrow lay heavy on them, and mirth it beseemed them ill. 60\n\n But little the guest should rue that, for knights both old\n and young,\n They welcomed him with all honour, and swift to his bridle\n sprung.\n And pages of noble breeding laid their hands on his bridle\n rein,\n And others would hold his stirrup as the knight to dismount\n was fain.\n And the knights they prayed him enter, and they led him where\n he might rest, 65\n And with ready hands and skilful of his armour they freed the\n guest,\n And they looked on the beardless hero, and they saw his face\n so fair,\n And they spake, of a truth Good Fortune and blessing should\n be his share.\n\n Then he bade them to bring him water, and the rust-stains he\n washed away\n From face and hands, and they saw him as the light of a\n second day, 70\n So he sat in all eyes lovely--Then a mantle rich they brought\n Of silk of Araby fashioned, and flaw therein was there\n naught;\n And he laid it around his shoulder, that hero so fair and\n bright,\n But the clasp did he leave unfastened, and with one voice\n they praised the knight.\n\n 'Repanse de Schoie, our lady and queen, did this mantle\n bear,' 75\n Quoth the chamberlain, 'She hath lent it while fit robes they\n for thee prepare.\n And I feared not this boon to ask her since it seemeth sure\n to me\n That a gallant man and faithful, Sir Knight, thou shalt prove\n to be!'\n 'God reward thee who lookest on me with such true and\n trusting heart,\n Methinks, an thou seest rightly, Good Fortune shall be my\n part, 80\n Yet I wot well such gifts come only from the power of God on\n high.'\n Then gladly they pledged the hero, and in honour and loyalty\n They who sorrowed with him were joyful; far more had they\n there, I ween,\n Than at Pelrap\u00e4r, when his right hand their shelter from\n grief had been!\n Then sadly he thought, as his harness the squires on one side\n would bear, 85\n That in knightly joust and Tourney he here might find little\n share.\n Then one to the host would call him, and fast came his words\n and free,\n And boldly he spake to the stranger, yea, e'en as in wrath\n might be.\n With his life had he nigh paid forfeit to Parzival's youthful\n pride,\n For he laid his hand to his sword-hilt--When he found it not\n by his side 90\n Then he clenched his fist so tightly that the clasp rung the\n blood-drops red\n From beneath his nails, and crimson to the sleeve of his robe\n they spread.\n\n 'Nay, nay,' quoth the knights, 'be not wrathful, for fain\n would he make us smile,\n He hath licence to jest, and with jesting our sadness would\n he beguile.\n Show thy courtesy here towards him, nor be wroth for a\n foolish word, 95\n That the Fisher hath come to the castle, naught else shalt\n thou here have heard.\n Now do thou to our lord betake thee, here art thou an\n honoured guest,\n And the load of thy heavy anger be banished from off thy\n breast.'\n\n To the palace hall they gat them, where a hundred crowns hung\n low\n With many a taper laden; round the walls shone the tapers'\n glow. 100\n And beneath stood a hundred couches, with a hundred cushions\n fair,\n And each of these goodly couches four knights should between\n them share.\n And betwixt each twain of the couches an open space was\n found,\n And before each there lay a carpet of cunning work fashioned\n round.\n Thereto had he wealth in plenty, King Frimutel's son and\n heir: 105\n And one thing had they not forgotten, nor their gold did they\n think to spare,\n For within the hall were builded three hearths of marble\n rare,\n With skill and wisdom fashioned, and each hearth stood\n four-square,\n And the wood was Lignum aloe, and so great a fire, I ween,\n Ne'er hath burnt on the hearth at Wildberg--Such things have\n aye costly been. 110\n\n And the host had bid them lay him on a costly folding bed\n 'Fore the central hearth; and gladness from before his face\n had fled,\n And his life was but a dying--Parzival the hero fair\n In the hall found kindly welcome from him who had sent him\n there.\n Then his host bade him stand no longer, but be seated his\n couch anear, 115\n 'Yea, here by my side, didst thou seat thee yet further from\n me, I fear\n 'Twere treating thee as a stranger'--In this wise to his\n gallant guest\n Spake the host thus rich in sorrow, whose heart was by grief\n opprest.\n\n And the host he craved thro' his sickness great fires, and\n warm robes would wear\n Both wide and long, and with sable were they lined and\n garnished fair. 120\n And the poorest skin was costly, and black was its hue and\n grey;\n And a cap of the self-same fashioned he wore on his head that\n day,\n 'Twas within and without of sable, with bands of Arabian gold\n Wrought around, and a flashing ruby in the centre might all\n behold.\n\n Now many brave knights they sat there, and grief passed their\n face before, 125\n For a squire sprang swift thro' the doorway, and a lance in\n his hand he bore,\n (And thus did he wake their weeping) from the point did the\n blood run fast\n Adown to the hand of the holder till 'twas lost in his sleeve\n at last.\n And then thro' the lofty palace was weeping and wailing sore,\n The folk of thirty kingdoms could scarce have bemoaned them\n more. 130\n And thus to each of the four walls with the lance in his hand\n he drew,\n Till he reached once again the doorway, and passed him the\n portal thro'.\n And stilled was the lamentation, and the grief that this folk\n must know\n When the squire bare the lance before them, and thus bade\n them to think on woe.\n\n (An here ye be not outwearied I gladly would tell the tale, 135\n How the feast in this Burg was ordered, for in courtesy\n naught did fail.)\n\n At the end of the hall a doorway of steel did they open fair,\n And two noble children entered--Now hearken what guise they\n bare,\n An a knight for love would serve them, with love they his\n task might pay,\n Two fair and gracious maidens as e'er man might woo were\n they. 140\n And each wore on her hair loose flowing, a chaplet of\n blossoms bound\n With silken band, beneath it their tresses sought the ground.\n And the hand of each maiden carried a candlestick all of\n gold,\n And every golden socket did a burning taper hold.\n Nor would I forget the raiment these gentle maidens ware, 145\n For one was Tenabroc's countess, ruddy-brown was her robe so\n fair,\n And the self-same garb wore the maiden who beside the\n countess paced,\n And with girdles rich and costly were they girt round each\n slender waist.\n And behind them there came a Duchess and her fellow; of ivory\n white\n Two stools they bare, and glowing their lips e'en as fire is\n bright. 150\n Then they bowed, the four, and bending, the stools 'fore the\n host they laid,\n Nor was aught to their service lacking, but fitly their part\n they played.\n Then they stood all four together, and their faces were fair\n to see,\n And the vesture of each fair maiden was like to the other\n three.\n\n Now see how they followed swiftly, fair maidens twice told\n four, 155\n And this was I ween their office, four tapers tall they bore;\n Nor the others deemed too heavy the weight of a precious\n stone,\n And by day the sun shone thro' it, and as Jacinth its name is\n known.\n 'Twas long and broad, and for lightness had they fashioned it\n fair and meet\n To serve at will for a table where a wealthy host might eat. 160\n And straight to the host they stepped them, and they bowed\n their fair heads low,\n And four laid the costly table on the ivory white as snow,\n The stools they had placed aforetime--and courteous they\n turned aside,\n And there by their four companions stood the eight in their\n maiden pride.\n\n And green were the robes of these maidens, green as grass in\n the month of May, 165\n Of Samite in Assagog woven, and long and wide were they.\n At the waist were they girt with a girdle, narrow, and long,\n and fair,\n And each of these gentle maidens ware a wreath on her shining\n hair.\n\n Now Iwan, the Count of Nonel, and Jernis, the lord of Reil,\n To the Grail were their daughters summoned from many a\n distant mile. 170\n And they came, these two princesses, in raiment wondrous\n fair,\n And two keen-edged knives, a marvel, on cloths did those\n maidens bear.\n Of silver white and shining were they wrought with such\n cunning skill,\n And so sharp, that methinks their edges e'en steel might they\n cut at will.\n And maidens four went before them, for this should their\n office be 175\n To bear lights before the silver; four children from\n falsehood free.\n Six maidens in all they entered and took thro' the hall their\n way,\n Now hearken, and I will tell ye the service they did that\n day.\n\n They bowed, and the twain who carried the silver they laid it\n low\n On the Jacinth, and courteous turning to the first twelve in\n order go. 180\n And now, have I counted rightly, here shall eighteen maidens\n stand;\n And lo! see six more come hither in vesture from distant\n lands,\n Half their robes were of silk, gold inwoven, half of silk of\n Nineveh bright,\n For both they and the six before them, parti-coloured their\n robes of light.\n\n And last of those maids a maiden, o'er the others was she the\n queen, 185\n So fair her face that they thought them 'twas the morning's\n dawn, I ween!\n And they saw her clad in raiment of Pfellel of Araby,\n And she bare aloft on a cushion of verdant Achmardi\n Root and blossom of Paradise garden, that thing which men\n call 'The Grail,'\n The crown of all earthly wishes, fair fulness that ne'er\n shall fail! 190\n Repanse de Schoie did they call her, in whose hands the Grail\n might lie,\n By the Grail Itself elected was she to this office high.\n And they who would here do service, those maids must be pure\n of heart,\n And true in life, nor falsehood shall have in their dealings\n part.\n\n And lights both rare and costly before the Grail they bore 195\n Six glasses tall, transparent--and wondrous balsam's store\n Burnt within with a strange sweet perfume; with measured\n steps they came,\n And the queen bowed low with the maidens who bare the\n balsam's flame.\n Then this maiden free from falsehood, the Grail on the\n Jacinth laid,\n And Parzival looked upon her, and thought of the royal maid 200\n Elect to such high office, whose mantle he needs must wear.\n Then the seven courteous turned them to the eighteen maidens\n fair,\n And the noblest they placed in the centre, and twelve on\n either side\n They stood, but the crown\u00e8d maiden no beauty with hers had\n vied!\n\n And as many knights as were seated around that palace hall, 205\n So to each four was there a server, with golden beaker tall,\n And a page so fair to look on who bare a napkin white--\n Riches enow, I trow me, had ye seen in the hall that night!\n And they bare there a hundred tables, at each table four\n knights would eat,\n And swiftly they spread them over with coverings fair and\n meet. 210\n\n The host himself took water, and heavy at heart was he,\n And Parzival, too, he washed him, for so should the custom\n be.\n A silken towel, bright coloured, a count's son would proffer\n fair,\n Swift to the guest he gat him, and knelt low before him\n there.\n And wherever there stood a table there four squires were\n ready dight 215\n To serve the four who sat there, and their service they knew\n aright,\n For twain would carve, low kneeling, and twain to the knights\n would bear\n Of food and drink as needful, and thus for their wants would\n care.\n\n Now hearken ye greater riches--on wheel\u00e8d cars were rolled\n To every knight in order, fair vessels of wroughten gold, 220\n And four knights set them on the tables, and with each ye a\n steward might see\n To aid them, and claim the vessels when the feast at an end\n should be.\n\n Now hearken another marvel--to a hundred squires they spake,\n And they bade them in fair white napkins the bread from the\n Grail to take.\n And straightway they went, and to each knight at each table\n the bread they bare; 225\n As I heard so I tell unto ye, and the truth ye, each one,\n shall swear,\n 'Twas the Grail Itself that fed them, and before the Grail\n did stand\n What of food or drink desiring, each one might stretch forth\n his hand.\n (Would I here betray another then in sooth ye shall lie with\n me)\n Food warm or cold, or dishes that known or unknown shall be, 230\n Food wild or tame--Such riches ye never on earth shall find,\n So many have said, yet I think me that folly doth rule their\n mind--\n For the Grail was the crown of blessing, the fulness of\n earth's delight,\n And Its joys I right well may liken to the glories of\n Heaven's height!\n\n Then they brought in small golden vessels that which every\n man should need 235\n Of sauces, or salt, or pepper--would one sparely or fully\n feed,\n Yet each found enough--and courteous they bare to each noble\n guest;\n And red wine and sweet drinks luscious, each one as he liked\n him best\n Might speak the word, and proffer the cup, and behold! 'twas\n filled\n By the power of the Grail--Thus the hunger of that gallant\n host was stilled, 240\n And the Grail Itself sustained them, and Parzival wondering\n saw\n The riches and mighty marvels, yet to question his host\n forbore.\n\n And he thought, 'Gurnemanz he bade me, in truth, without\n thought of guile,\n To withhold my lips from question--If here I abide awhile\n Methinks it will then befall me as aforetime in Graharz land, 245\n They will tell me, without my question, how here with this\n folk it stands.'\n Then e'en as he sat thus musing came a squire who a sword did\n bear,\n And its sheath was a thousand marks' worth, and its hilt was\n a ruby rare,\n And the blade, it might well work wonders--Then the host gave\n it to the knight,\n And he spake, 'I full oft have borne it in many a deadly\n fight 250\n Ere God's Hand thus sorely smote me; now with this shalt thou\n be repaid\n If aught hath in care been lacking--Henceforth shalt thou\n bear this blade\n Whatever chance befall thee, and when thou its power hast\n tried\n Thou wilt know thou art fully arm\u00e8d, whatever strife betide.'\n\n Ah! woe to the guest that asked not, I am sorrowful for his\n sake, 255\n When his hand clasped the sword 'twas a token that his\n silence he well might break.\n For the host too my heart is heavy, thus tortured by nameless\n woe,\n And a question therefrom had freed him, yet to question his\n guest was slow.\n\n But now the feast was ended, who the vessels hither bore\n Again to their task they turn them, and they bear them forth\n once more. 260\n The cars again they circle; each maid to her task was fain\n From last to first; the noblest she turned to the Grail\n again,\n To host and guest all-courteous the queen and her maidens\n bend,\n What they brought they once more would bear forth thro' the\n door at the high hall's end.\n\n And Parzival he gazed after, and lo! thro' the open door 265\n Within an outer chamber, on a folding couch he saw\n The fairest of old men ancient whom ever his eyes had seen,\n Grey was he as mists of morning--Nor o'er rash is the tale, I\n ween,\n Who he was shalt thou know hereafter, when a fitting time\n shall be,\n The host, his Burg, and his kingdom, yea, all will I name to\n ye, 270\n And all shall be clear and in order, no halting my tale shall\n know;\n Methinks that I then shall show ye the bowstring without the\n bow.\n\n 'Tis a symbol good, the bowstring, for swift as ye deem the\n bow,\n Yet the shaft that the bowstring speedeth findeth swifter its\n aim, I trow!\n And not without thought I said it, for the string, it seemeth\n me, 275\n Is like to the simple story wherewith men well-pleased shall\n be;\n For it goeth straight to its ending, while he who aside shall\n stray,\n Tho' his goal at last he reacheth findeth all too long his\n way.\n When unbent the bow thou sawest, then straight was, I ween,\n the string,\n From the straight line thou erst must draw it, ere the shaft\n to its goal may wing. 280\n But he who his story aimeth at the ear of a fool shall find\n His shaft go astray, for no dwelling it findeth within his\n mind.\n Too wide is the road, I think me, and that which he chance to\n hear\n Ere yet he may know the meaning flies out at the other ear.\n Far rather at home I 'ld bide me than in such ears my story\n tell, 285\n A beast, or a stock, I think me, as a hearer would serve as\n well.\n\n But further I fain would tell ye of this people so full of\n woe\n To whom he had come, our hero, glad song might they seldom\n know,\n Or sound of dance or of Tourney; so heavy were they at heart\n That never a thought of gladness might find in their life a\n part, 290\n And oft shall the folk be fewer yet of joy shall have fuller\n share,\n But here every nook was crowded, nor space in the court to\n spare.\n\n The host to his guest spake kindly, 'Methinks they thy couch\n have spread,\n Art thou weary? then list my counsel, and get thee, my guest,\n to bed.'\n (Now here might I raise my war-cry at the parting betwixt the\n twain, 295\n For I wot well that bitter sorrow each must from the venture\n gain.)\n\n To the side of his host he stepped him, Parzival the fair of\n face,\n And the Fisher a fair night wished him--Then the knights\n stepped each from his place,\n And a part drew near towards him, and they led the stranger\n guest\n Straightway to a sleeping chamber, and goodly should be his\n rest. 300\n 'Twas richly decked for his honour, and the couch it was\n spread so fair\n That my poverty sorely grieves me since the earth doth such\n riches bear.\n\n And that bed knew, I ween, no lacking, and a rich silk above\n it lay,\n Bright-coloured its hue, and glowing as tho' fire-light did\n on it play;\n Then Parzival prayed the heroes to get them again to rest, 305\n For he saw there but one couch only, and they passed hence at\n his behest.\n\n But he lacked not for other service--His fair face and tapers\n light\n Gave challenge unto each other--What day e'er might shine so\n bright?\n And before his couch was another, thereon would he take his\n seat\n While pages drew them nearer, and proffered him service meet. 310\n And they bared his white feet comely, and they laid his robes\n aside,\n And of noble birth were these children, and fair in their\n youthful pride.\n Then there passed thro' the open doorway four maidens fair\n and bright,\n They would know if they well had served him, and if soft lay\n the stranger knight.\n And so the venture telleth, a squire a taper bare 315\n Before each gentle maiden--Parzival, that hero fair,\n Sprang swift to his couch; then the maidens with gentle voice\n they spake,\n 'Sir Knight, we fain would pray thee for our sake awhile to\n wake'--\n Yet as children sport with each other had he hidden him from\n their sight\n Ere yet they might hear his greeting, yet their eyes had\n found swift delight, 320\n And their heart's desire was quickened at the sight of his\n red lips' glow\n That for youth were as yet unhidden, for no hair did upon\n them grow.\n\n Now hear what they bare, these maidens, three in their hands\n so white\n Brought syrups sweet, and red wine, and the fourth, that\n maiden bright,\n Bare fruit that e'erwhile had ripened in the garden of\n Paradise 325\n On a cloth fair and white, and she knelt low before him that\n maiden wise,\n And he bade her sit, but she answered, 'Nay, Sir Knight, so\n is it best\n For else were I sure unworthy to serve such a gallant guest.'\n Then he drank and would eat a little, and he spake to them\n soft and sweet,\n And he laid him adown, and the maidens craved leave of him as\n was meet. 330\n Then down on the costly carpet the squires set the tapers\n bright\n When they saw that he slept, and swiftly they gat from the\n gallant knight.\n\n Yet Parzival lay not lonely, for until the dawn of day\n Heart-sorrow would lie beside him, nor passed with the dawn\n away.\n And every coming anguish its heralds before would speed, 335\n E'en so that the fair youth's vision out-weighed e'en his\n mother's need\n When she dreamed ere the death of her husband. As a carpet\n unrolled his dream,\n The centre of fair jousts woven, while the edge was with\n swords agleam.\n And in slumber his foemen pressed him, and would swiftly upon\n him ride;\n So fearful his dream that, wakened, thirty times had he\n rather died. 340\n Thus fear and unrest awoke him, and the sweat streamed from\n every limb;\n The daylight shone fair thro' the windows, yet no voice had\n called on him.\n Then he spake, 'Where are now the pages, who stood before me\n of late?\n Who shall hand unto me my garments?' Then awhile would he\n patient wait\n Till slumber again o'ercame him; none spake, none aloud would\n cry, 345\n Vanished the folk--When he wakened the noon-tide sun was\n high.\n\n Then he sprang up, and lo! before him on the carpet his\n harness lay,\n And two swords, his host's gift, and the other from Prince\n Ither he bare away.\n Then he spake to himself, 'Now wherefore was this done? I\n these arms will take,\n In sleep I such anguish suffered, methinks that I surely wake 350\n To-day to some task of knighthood--If mine host doth some\n foeman fear\n Then his will will I do right gladly, and faithful her prayer\n will hear\n Who of true heart this mantle lent me--If my service she\n think to take\n Then I were for such service joyful; yet not for her sweet\n love's sake,\n For my wife hath a face as lovely as ever this castle's\n queen, 355\n Nay more, an the truth be spoken she is fairer far I ween!'\n\n Then he did e'en as seemed him fitting, and he armed himself\n for fight\n From foot to head, and beside him he girded those swords of\n might.\n Then forth went the gallant hero, and his steed to the palace\n stair\n Was bound, shield and spear stood by it, and he joyed as he\n found them there. 360\n\n Then ere Parzival, the hero, his charger would mount again,\n He sought thro' many a chamber, and he called on the folk\n amain,\n But none might he see or hearken, and it vexed the knight\n full sore,\n And wrathful he grew--Yet seeking, the hero he came once more\n To where he at eve dismounted when first he the castle found, 365\n And the earth and grass were trampled, and the dew brushed\n from off the ground.\n\n Then, shouting, he turned, the young knight, once more to his\n charger good,\n And with bitter words he mounted--Wide open the gateway\n stood,\n And the track led across the threshold; nor longer he thought\n to stay\n But he turned his rein, and swiftly to the drawbridge he made\n his way, 370\n But a hidden hand drew the rope taut, and the forepart it\n rose on high\n And well-nigh had his charger fallen, then he turned him\n right speedily\n For fain would he ask the meaning, but the squire cried aloud\n in scorn,\n 'Goose that thou art, ride onward, to the sun's hate hast\n thou been born!\n Thy mouth hadst thou thought to open, of these wonders hadst\n asked thine host, 375\n Great fame had been thine--But I tell thee now hast thou this\n fair chance lost!'\n\n Then the guest cried aloud for his meaning, but answer he\n ne'er might win,\n For the squire made as if he slumbered, and the portal he\n barred within.\n Too early for peace his parting, and the hour it hath brought\n him woe,\n And he payeth in joy the tribute, nor longer may gladness\n know; 380\n And doubled the throw of sorrow since here he had found the\n Grail,\n With his eyes, not his hand, had he cast it, and dice to the\n throw should fail.\n If by grief he be now awakened such was never his wont of\n yore,\n For naught had he known but gladness, nor sorrow of heart he\n bore.\n\n On the track that he saw before him would Parzival ride\n apace, 385\n And he thought, 'They who go before me to-day will a foeman\n face\n And fight for their master's honour; an they knew it, their\n ring of might\n Methinks would be little weakened if I in their ranks should\n fight!\n I would waver not, but would aid them whate'er be their need\n to-day,\n Thus my bread would I earn, and this fair sword, the gift of\n my host, repay, 390\n Undeserved as yet do I bear it--Sure they hold me for coward\n knight!'\n Then he turned him, the free from falsehood, where the\n hoof-tracks still met his sight,\n (And sorely I rue his parting--Now the venture doth grow\n apace,)\n They had parted who rode before him, and their track he might\n scarcely trace,\n What aforetime was broad waxed narrow till he lost it nor\n found it more 395\n And tidings he heard, the hero, that wrought to him sorrow\n sore.\n\n For the young knight, rich in courage, heard a woman's voice\n make moan.\n (On the grass lay the dew of morning.) On a linden there sat\n alone\n A maiden, whose truth wrought her sorrow, for between her\n arms so white\n Embalmed did she lifeless hold him who living had been her\n knight. 400\n Were there one who saw her sorrow and mourned not for her\n bitter woe\n Then false of heart must I hold him, one who true love might\n never know!\n Then he turned his steed towards her, tho' as yet unknown was\n she,\n (Tho' the child of his mother's sister)--As the wind that\n fleeteth free\n Is all earthly faith to her true love--Then Parzival greeting\n spake, 405\n 'Lady, methinks that sorrow I must bear for thy sorrow's\n sake,\n An thou needst in aught my service, would it free thee from\n further ill,\n Then look thou on me as thy servant, thy grief were I fain to\n still!'\n\n Then sadly her thanks she bade him, and asked him, 'Whence\n camest thou here?\n He were ill-advised who his journey should take thro' this\n woodland drear. 410\n To them who know not its pathways great evil might here\n betide.\n Yea, oft have I seen and hearkened how men in this wood have\n died,\n For death was in strife their portion--Turn hence then, thou\n gallant knight,\n An thou lovest life--Yet tell me in what shelter didst pass\n the night?'\n 'But a mile from here stands a castle, there I thro' the\n night abode, 415\n And naught have I seen like its riches, from thence in short\n space I rode.'\n Then the maiden she looked upon him, and she spake, 'Now,\n methinks, 'twere ill\n With falsehood to thus betray them who trust thee with right\n goodwill.\n From thy shield art thou here a stranger, and canst naught\n but woods have found,\n An here thou hast ta'en thy journey from planted and builded\n ground, 420\n For thirty miles round have they never, for a dwelling, hewn\n wood or stone,\n Save but for one Burg, in this region that Burg it doth stand\n alone.\n 'Tis rich in all earthly riches, yet he who that castle fair\n Would seek, he may never find it, tho' many that quest shall\n dare.\n Unawares must they chance upon it, for I wot in no other wise 425\n Shall that Burg and all that it holdeth be looked on by\n mortal eyes.\n Sir Knight, _thou_ hast never seen it; Monsalv\u00e4sch I ween its\n name,\n Terre de Salv\u00e4sch the kingdom where its lord the crown may\n claim,\n And Titurel once bequeathed it to his son King Frimutel,\n So they called him, the dauntless hero; much fame to his\n portion fell, 430\n In a joust was he slain at Love's bidding, and four children\n fair he left,\n And three, they have store of riches, yet are they of joy\n bereft.\n And poor is the fourth, for penance hath he chosen this lot I\n trow,\n Trevrezent is his name--Anfortas, his brother, hath grief\n enow,\n He can neither stand, nor be seated, nor walk, but must aye\n recline, 435\n At Monsalv\u00e4sch he hath his dwelling, the head of that noble\n line.'\n Then she spake, 'If indeed thou camest to that folk who so\n sore doth mourn\n Then perchance is their king releas\u00e8d from the burden he long\n hath borne?'\n Out spake the Waleis, 'I saw truly great marvels, and many a\n maid\n Of beauty rare'--she knew him by his voice ere the words were\n said. 440\n\n And she quoth, 'Now indeed I know thee, for in sooth art thou\n Parzival!\n Didst thou see the mournful monarch? Didst thou see the\n wondrous Grail?\n Ah! tell me the joyful tidings, may his woe at last be\n stilled?\n Well is thee that the bless\u00e8d journey thou hast ta'en, now\n shall earth be filled,\n As far as the winds of heaven may blow, with thy fair renown; 445\n Naught on earth but shall do thee service, fulfilment each\n wish shall crown!'\n\n Then Parzival spake in wonder, 'Say, Lady, whence knowest\n thou me?'\n And she answered, 'I am that maiden who erewhile made her\n plaint to thee,\n I am she who thy name first told thee, near of kin to that\n gracious queen\n Thy mother, of all earth's blossoms the fairest flower, I\n ween, 450\n Tho' a flower that the dew ne'er nourished! May God reward\n thee well\n Who didst truly mourn my hero who in knightly combat fell.\n See, here in my arms I hold him, now think thou upon the woe\n God hath laid for his sake upon me who too short a life must\n know;\n Rich was he in all manly virtues, his death it has wrought me\n pain, 455\n And day by day as it dawneth reneweth my plaint again!\n\n 'Alas! is it thou, Sigun\u00e9? Say, where are thy lips so red\n That gave me to wit so truly who I was? From thy youthful\n head\n Have thy locks so brown and waving been shorn since I saw\n thee last;\n Then wert thou still fair to look on, tho' sorrow might hold\n thee fast, 460\n Now pale art thou waxed and feeble, such friendship, methinks\n with woe\n Had vexed me too much, hear my counsel, and bury this dead\n knight low!'\n\n Great tears bedewed her garments, for ne'er to that maiden\n fair\n Had any given such counsel as Lunete to her lady bare.\n (This rede did she give to her lady, 'Let him live who thy\n lord hath slain, 465\n Thou shalt in his love hereafter amends for thy sorrow\n gain.')\n Not such was the will of Sigun\u00e9, as maidens of wavering mind,\n (On their names I had best keep silence) here the tale of\n true love ye'll find.\n Then she spake, 'If joy e'er befall me that shall be when I\n know relief\n Is his, who so long hath suffered, when is lightened his load\n of grief. 470\n If thro' _thee_ he hath found this succour then in truth\n shall all praise be thine;\n Methinketh e'en now at thy girdle do I see his sword to\n shine--\n If its magic spell thou knowest then to strife mayest thou\n fearless fare,\n For its edge is keen--Its maker a noble name doth bear,\n Trebuchet's hand hath wrought it; by Karnant there flows a\n spring, 475\n And '_Lac_' from the name of that streamlet methinks is he\n named, the king.\n The sword will withstand the first blow, at the next it will\n break in twain,\n An thou to these waters bring it from their flow 'twill be\n whole again.\n Yet where at its source the streamlet flows forth from its\n rocky bed,\n Shalt thou seek those healing waters ere the sun stand high\n overhead. 480\n _Lac_ is the name of that fountain--If unsplintered shall be\n the blade\n Then press thou its halves together, from the waters shall it\n be made,\n Not whole alone, but stronger the blade and the edge shall\n grow,\n Nor their brightness and fair adorning be dimmed by the\n water's flow.\n Yet a spell thou first must master, ere thou draw that sword\n of might, 485\n Thou hast left it behind, I fear me! Hast thou learnt its\n words aright,\n Then in truth all earthly blessings shall blossom and bear\n for thee--\n Believe me, dear my cousin, what of marvels thou there\n couldst see,\n To thine hand shall they all do service; the crown of\n blessings fair\n Uplifted o'er all earth's noblest henceforward thine head\n shall bear. 490\n And thine is desire's fulfilment, and none with thy wealth\n and might\n May measure himself, if the question hath won at thy lips its\n right!'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Nay, I asked no question!' 'Alas I' cried the\n mournful maid,\n 'That ever mine eyes have seen thee, who to question wast\n sore afraid!\n Such marvels they there have shown thee, yet no word might\n they win from thee, 495\n When thou sawest the Grail, and those maidens who serve It,\n from falsehood free,\n Fair Garschiloie, and yet fairer Repanse de Schoie the queen.\n Thou hast seen the knives of silver, thou the bleeding spear\n hast seen--\n Alas! wherefore hast thou sought me? Dishonoured, accurst art\n thou\n Who bearest wolf's fang empoisoned! And deep in thine heart I\n trow 500\n Is it rooted, the plant of falsehood, and afresh doth it ever\n spring!\n Thou shouldst have had pity on him, Anfortas, their host and\n king,\n And have asked of his bitter sorrow, on whom God hath a\n wonder sped,\n Now thou livest, and yet I tell thee to bliss art thou\n henceforth dead!'\n\n Then he spake, 'Nay, gentle cousin, show kindness to me I\n pray, 505\n If in aught I have sinned, repentance my sin sure shall put\n away!'\n 'Little good may repentance do thee,' quoth the maiden, 'for\n well I know\n That thy knightly fame and honour at Monsalv\u00e4sch were laid\n alow.\n And never a further answer or word shalt thou win from me.'\n Then Parzival turned his bridle and left her right\n mournfully. 510\n\n That his lips were so slow to question when he sat by the\n mournful king,\n To the heart of the gallant hero must sorrow and rueing\n bring;\n And thus thro' his heavy trouble, and the heat of the\n summer's day,\n Great sweat-drops stood on his forehead as he rode on his\n lonely way.\n For the sake of the air he loosened his helmet and visor\n band, 515\n And his face shone fair thro' the iron-rust as he carried\n them in his hand.\n\n Then he saw a fresh track, and before him short space did two\n horses fare,\n A war-horse was one, well harnessed, but unshod was, I ween,\n the mare,\n And it bare on its back a woman--Behind her he took his way,\n And he looked on her steed, to hunger o'er-long had it been a\n prey; 520\n Thro' its skin might its ribs be counted, a halter of hemp\n its rein,\n Its colour was white as an ermine, to the hoofs hung the\n untrimmed mane;\n The eyeballs were sunk in the sockets, the hollows were deep\n and wide,\n And I ween that this lady's palfrey by famine had oft been\n tried.\n 'Twas lean and dry as touchwood, 'twas a marvel it yet could\n go, 525\n For little should she who rode it of the care of a charger\n know.\n\n Narrow and poor the trappings that lay on that charger's\n back,\n The saddle and bells were shattered, and much did the harness\n lack;\n And the lady was sad, not joyful, and her girth was a hempen\n cord,\n Yet, I ween, was her birth too noble in such guise to ride\n abroad. 530\n By twigs and thorny branches tattered her shift and torn,\n And the rags had she knit together where'er it had been\n out-worn,\n But beneath her skin gleamed spotless, white as the swan's\n white wing;\n And naught but rags was her clothing--where they might some\n shelter bring\n There her skin was fair to look on, but elsewhere 'twas by\n sunburn dyed. 535\n Yet her lips were red, tho' sorrow and want she must long\n abide,\n And so glowing and bright their colour a fire had ye kindled\n there,\n And where-e'er one would ride beside her on that side had ye\n found her bare.\n Yet of base degree to hold her were to do her a wrong, I\n ween,\n Tho' little had she upon her, yet guiltless she aye had\n been-- 540\n (Of your courtesy shall ye heed me, she forgot not her\n womanhood)\n Of her poverty have I told ye, yet wherefore? If ye deem good\n Then this will I say, that ragged and bare I this dame would\n take\n O'er many a well-clad maiden, were it fitting my choice to\n make.\n\n As Parzival bade her greeting, she saw him, and red she grew, 545\n Of all men was he the fairest, small marvel his face she\n knew.\n Then she quoth, 'Once before have I seen thee, great grief\n have I won thro' thee:\n God grant to thee greater honour than thou hast deserved from\n me!\n Far other hath been my raiment when thou sawest me last, I\n wot,\n Hadst thou ne'er in that hour come near me then honour were\n still my lot!' 550\n\n Then he spake, 'Now bethink thee, Lady, who thus should thy\n hatred claim,\n For never my hand, I think me, hath brought to a woman shame,\n (So had I _myself_ dishonoured) since ever I bare a shield,\n Or thought upon deeds of knighthood, or hath striven in\n battle-field;\n Yet else am I sad for thy sorrow!' Then forth brake the\n tear-drops bright, 555\n And ran fast adown her bosom, and over her breasts so white,\n So fair, and so softly moulded, that never might turner's\n skill,\n Tho' swiftly he wrought and rounded, his task in such wise\n fulfil.\n And so lovely was she in her sorrow his heart was to pity\n fain,\n And with hands and arms a cover from his glance did she\n strive to gain. 560\n\n Then Parzival spake, 'Now, Lady, of true service from mocking\n free,\n In God's Name take thou here my surcoat, a covering 'twill be\n for thee.'\n 'Nay, Sir Knight, I may never take it, e'en tho' bliss I\n thereby should gain,\n Ride swift on thy way, I pray thee, an thou wouldst not we\n both were slain;\n Tho' my death it would little grieve me, if I fear me, 'tis\n for thy sake!' 565\n 'Say, Lady, who thus would wrong us? Who thinketh our life to\n take?\n 'Twas God's hand that gave it to us--Nay, were they an arm\u00e8d\n host\n Who here for our life were thirsting, I would face them nor\n fear the cost!'\n\n Then she spake, ''Tis a dauntless hero, so gallant in strife\n is he\n That heavy would be their labour if _six_ should his foemen\n be; 570\n (I would thou wert not beside me) I aforetime his wife had\n been,\n Yet so poor am I now and wretched, for his slave were I all\n too mean,\n Thus his wrath doth he wreak upon me.' To that lady he spake\n again,\n 'Say, who rideth here with thy husband? For if I to fly were\n fain,\n As here thou dost give me counsel, thyself sure wouldst deem\n it ill, 575\n Ere of flight I have learnt the lesson I would die with a\n right good will!'\n\n Then out spake the Duchess sadly, 'Alone with my lord I fare,\n But yet that may little serve thee, nor shall victory be here\n thy share.'\n And in rags was all her vesture, and naught but the hem\n untorn,\n Yet the crown of woman's honour in her poverty had she worn, 580\n And her ways were ways of goodness, and falsehood afar had\n fled--\n Then he bound afresh his visor and the helmet upon his head\n As one who to battle rideth--Then his charger aloft would\n rear,\n It was 'ware of the steed beside it, and its neigh rang out\n loud and clear;\n And he who a space before them on the woodland way would\n ride, 585\n He hearkened the sound, and would see him who rode there by\n his lady's side.\n Then he turned his bridle wrathful by the side of the narrow\n way,\n And with lance in rest for jousting Duke Orilus rode that\n day,\n And manly, I ween, his bearing, from Gaheviess came his\n spear,\n And weapon alike and harness of one colour were blazoned\n clear. 590\n\n His helmet, Trebuchet wrought it; the shield in distant Spain\n Was welded fair for the hero, King Kailet in that land doth\n reign,\n And strong were the rim and the centre--In Alexandria's city\n fair\n Was the costly pfellel woven that for surcoat and coat he\n ware.\n The covering of his charger at Tenabroc was it made 595\n Of rings of steel close welded--And thus he his pride\n displayed,\n For over the iron cover lay a pfellel so fair to see,\n And all men who saw bare witness that costly its worth must\n be--\n And gorget, and greaves, and headgear, tho' rich, yet their\n weight was light,\n And many a plate of iron it guarded this gallant knight; 600\n In Be\u00e0lzenan was it fashioned, chief city of fair Anjou.\n (But she who rode bare behind him far other her garb to view,\n For in sooth might she find none better) from Soissons his\n breastplate came,\n But he won his gallant charger from the far-off lake\n Brimbane,\n In the mountains of Monsalv\u00e4sch--L\u00e4helein, his brother bold, 605\n In a joust o'erthrew the rider, and the steed as his prize\n would hold.\n\n And Parzival too was ready--his charger in onward flight\n 'Gainst Orilus of Lalande bare swiftly the gallant knight;\n And he saw on his shield a dragon, yea, e'en as it were\n alive,\n And another upon the helmet fast bounden did upward strive. 610\n And many small golden dragons on surcoat and robe he bare,\n Enriched with many a jewel, and with red eyes of ruby fair.\n From afar would they make their onslaught, these dauntless\n heroes twain,\n No need to renounce their friendship, nor thro' kinship from\n strife refrain,\n Aloft flew the spears in splinters--Methinks I might vaunt me\n well 615\n If I such a joust had witnessed as here in this wood befell!\n\n Thus they rode at swiftest gallop not one joust alone, I\n ween,\n And Jeschut\u00e9 at heart bare witness fairer jousting she ne'er\n had seen;\n So she stood, and her hands she wrung them, this lady of joy\n bereft,\n Nor harm did she wish to either, that one should be lifeless\n left. 620\n In sweat were they bathed, the chargers, and the knights they\n strove for fame,\n And sparks sprang bright from the sword-blades, and forth\n from the helm flashed flame,\n And the blows fell fierce and mighty, and far flashed the\n light of strife,\n None were better than they in battle, and they met here for\n death or life,\n And tho' willing and swift the chargers that the heroes would\n here bestride, 625\n They forgot not their spurs, and their sword-blades\n bright-glancing they deftly plied.\n And Parzival won him honour, for here hath he rightly shown\n How before a hundred dragons one man well might hold his own.\n\n And ill did it fare with one dragon, and sore were its wounds\n that day,\n 'Twas the crest that aloft in glory on Orilus' helmet lay, 630\n And so clear that the light shone thro' them were the costly\n jewels bright\n That fell when the helm was smitten by Parzival's sword of\n might;\n 'Twas on horse, not afoot, that they fought thus--The love of\n her angry lord\n Was won back again for Jeschut\u00e9 by the play of the glittering\n sword.\n Then they dashed again on each other so close that they smote\n away, 635\n With their knees, the rings of iron--So valiant in strife\n were they!\n I will tell ye why one was wrathful; that his lady of royal\n race\n Ere this had been shamed; her guardian, from him might she\n look for grace;\n Yet he deemed that with wandering fancy her heart from her\n lord had strayed,\n And that she, in the love of another, her honour had lowly\n laid. 640\n And he would for such wrong have vengeance, and his judgment\n on her was done\n In such wise, save were _death_ her portion no woman such woe\n had won,\n And yet she in naught had wronged him--If his favour he would\n withhold,\n What man e'er might think to hinder? For ever from days of\n old\n The man hath power o'er the woman, the husband shall rule the\n wife. 645\n Yet Parzival the hero, he thought him to win with strife\n For Jeschut\u00e9 her husband's favour--Methinks one should pray\n such grace\n In courteous wise, but flattery it here found but little\n place.\n And both they were right, I think me--He who ruleth the ways\n of life,\n Or straight they may be or crooked, 'twas His so to rule\n their strife 650\n That never to one nor the other the joust death for guerdon\n brought,\n Harm enow had they done to each other the while they so\n fiercely fought.\n\n Now hotter it waxed, the conflict, each hero would fain\n defend\n His knightly fame 'gainst the other; Duke Orilus of Lalande,\n He fought with the skill and cunning his hand had learnt of\n yore, 655\n For I ween none like him had battled--he had courage and\n strength in war,\n And therefore had he been victor on many a foughten field,\n Tho' other were here the ending--His foe would he force to\n yield;\n And he threw his arms around him, the hero so proud and bold,\n But Parzival, little daunted, on his foeman made good his\n hold, 660\n And he drew him from off his saddle; as a sheaf from the\n field ye reap\n So beneath his arm he swung him, and light from his horse did\n leap.\n O'er a fallen tree he held him, for here was he overthrown\n Who never of need or peril such fortune before had known.\n 'Now do penance for this thine anger that hath wrought to thy\n lady woe, 665\n An thy favour be yet withholden, then death shalt thou surely\n know!'\n 'Nay, nay, not so swift,' quoth his foeman, Duke Orilus of\n Lalande,\n 'Tho' o'erthrown, I am not so vanquished that I may not thy\n will withstand!'\n\n Then Parzival, strong and valiant, his foeman he gripped\n amain,\n And forth thro' the visor gushing streamed the blood in a\n crimson rain, 670\n And the prince, I ween, was vanquished, he could win from him\n what he would,\n To die was he all unwilling, and he spake to the hero good,\n 'Alas! thou bold knight dauntless, who evil on me hath sped,\n Say how have I earned this peril, to lie here before thee,\n dead?'\n\n Then Parzival quoth, 'Right gladly, Sir Knight, will I let\n thee live, 675\n If favour and love to thy lady thou swearest again to give!'\n 'That I will not! Her sin against me I trow all too great\n shall be.\n Rich in honour she was; she hath injured herself, and she\n plungeth me,\n Her lord, in yet deeper sorrow. In all else thy will I'll\n heed,\n An thou thinkest my life to leave me--'Twas God gave it me\n indeed, 680\n Now thine hand is become His servant, to give it to me anew,\n And I to thy valour owe it'--In this wise spake the hero\n true:\n\n 'For my life will I give fair ransom, for kingdoms twain, I\n trow,\n My brother with might hath won him, of riches he hath enow.\n Thou shalt ask as it best may please thee: if from death thou\n wilt set me free, 685\n He loveth me, and will loose me whatever the cost may be.\n And my Dukedom again as thy vassal will I take from thy\n valiant hand,\n Thy fame it shall gain new lustre, since I might not thy\n power withstand.\n Now release me, thou hero dauntless, from forgiveness of her,\n my wife;\n Whatever shall be for thine honour, by that will I buy my\n life, 690\n But with her, my dishonoured Duchess, at peace will I never\n be,\n Nay, not for all pain or sorrow that shall otherwise fall to\n me!'\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Folk or kingdoms, or riches or jewels rare,\n All these they shall nothing profit--Thy pledge thou to me\n shalt swear\n In naught to delay thy journey, but to haste thee to Brittany 695\n Where dwelleth a gentle maiden--One hath smitten her sore for\n me,\n And I will on that man have vengeance, an his safety she\n shall not pray--\n Thy pledge and my loyal service bear thou to that maid\n straightway,\n Or here, without fail, I slay thee--To King Arthur and to his\n queen,\n To both shalt thou bear my greeting; well paid hath my\n service been, 700\n If they for that blow ill-smitten the maiden do well entreat.\n But first will I see that thou givest to this lady thine\n homage meet,\n And that without guile--Dost withstand me, and thinkest my\n will to dare,\n On a bier, and no more on a charger, from hence shalt thou\n lifeless fare!\n Now mark thou my words, for their doing a pledge shalt thou\n straightway give, 705\n And thy surety swear unto me, if longer thou fain wouldst\n live!'\n To King Parzival spake his foeman, Duke Orilus, 'Helpeth\n naught\n 'Gainst this thy will, I will do it, for fain I my life had\n bought!'\n\n In the fear for the life of her husband Jeschut\u00e9, that lady\n fair,\n Mourned sore for his woe, yet the foemen to part might she\n little dare. 710\n Then Parzival bade him rise up, and speak to his lady bright\n The words of peace and of pardon; and thus quoth the\n vanquished knight,\n 'Lady, since this my shaming in strife hath been for thy\n sake,\n So be it, the kiss of forgiveness from my lips shalt thou\n herewith take.\n Thro' thee have I lost much honour--What boots it? I pardon\n sware!' 715\n Then swift from her steed on the meadow sprang the lady with\n white limbs bare,\n Tho' the blood that ran from his nostrils had dyed his mouth\n with red,\n Yet she kissed him e'en as he bade her, so was Parzival's\n bidding sped.\n\n Then the three rode on together till a hermit's cell they saw\n In the rocky wall, and our hero his bridle was fain to draw; 720\n For he saw there a shrine so holy, and a spear with fair\n colours blent\n Stood beside the shrine; 'twas the dwelling of the hermit\n Trevrezent.\n\n There Parzival dealt with honour--On the relic an oath he\n sware,\n Himself laid the oath upon him, and he spake and they\n hearkened fair;\n 'If I have worth or valour, as 'seemeth a gallant knight-- 725\n If I have it or not let those witness who have looked on my\n shield in fight;\n Yea, let them approve my knighthood, for knighthood's power\n may claim,\n As the shield-bearer oft shall tell us, high guerdon of\n praise and fame,\n And the name of knight is honoured--My body to shame for aye\n Will I give, and my fame and honour henceforth shall be put\n away; 730\n (With these words I my bliss would pledge here in the Hand\n that shall highest be,\n And that Hand is God's Hand, I think me)--All loss, bitter\n mockery,\n In this life and the next be my portion from His power, if\n this lady fair\n E'er did thee wrong when it chanced her that the clasp from\n her robe _I_ tare--\n (Of a token of gold I robbed her)--A _fool_ and no man was I, 735\n Not yet had I waxed to wisdom--And sore did she weep thereby,\n And anguish and grief she suffered; yea, guiltless was she\n that day--\n And forfeit my bliss and mine honour if the words be not\n truth I say!\n Now see, dost thou hold her guiltless thou shalt give her her\n ring again,\n From the clasp I in such wise parted that my folly must bear\n the blame!' 740\n\n Then the Duke took the ring, and the blood-stains he wiped\n from his lips away,\n And he kissed her, his heart's best treasure--And a covering\n she won straightway;\n The ring he placed on her finger, with his surcoat her shame\n would hide,\n Tho' hewn by the hand of hero, of rich silk was it fashioned\n wide.\n But seldom in coat emblazoned mine eyes have a woman seen, 745\n And this one was marred in combat. No war-cry was hers, I\n ween,\n That should summon the knights to Tourney, and never a spear\n she brake\n Whatever her garb--In Tourney far better the part they'ld\n take,\n Lambekein, methinks, and the good squire, if together they\n thought to fight--\n But now was the lady pardoned, and her sorrow had taken\n flight. 750\n\n Quoth Orilus, 'Now, thou hero, the oath thou didst freely\n swear,\n Great joy and small grief hath brought me; tho' shaming I\n needs must bear,\n Yet gladness therefrom I win me--In all honour I will repay\n This lady true for her sorrow when I put her in shame away.\n And since all alone I left her she was guiltless did aught\n betide; 755\n Yet so did she speak of thy beauty, methought there was more\n beside.\n But now may God reward thee, thou hast shown her from\n falsehood free,\n I have done her a wrong--Thro' the young wood have I ridden\n in search of thee\n Afar from Briziljan's forest.' Then Parzival took the spear,\n Wild Taurian, Dodine's brother, erewhile had he left it here. 760\n Now say where the heroes rested, or how they would pass the\n night--\n Helmet and shield had suffered, they were shattered and hewn\n in fight.\n Then Parzival to the lady, and her husband, a farewell bade;\n The Duke to his hearth would bid him, 'twas in vain howsoe'er\n he prayed.\n\n So here, as the venture telleth, they parted, those heroes\n twain, 765\n And the Prince Orilus he sought him his pavilion and folk\n again.\n And glad were his faithful people with one mind when at last\n they saw\n Their lord and his gracious lady dwell in peace and in love\n once more.\n Nor longer was there delaying, the Duke he aside would lay\n His arms, and the rust and blood-stains from his face did he\n wash away; 770\n By her hand he led the Duchess where atonement he fain would\n make,\n Weeping she lay beside him for joy, not for sorrow's sake.\n For such is the way of women, know ye not the saying well?\n 'Tearful eyes make sweet lips,' of such lore methinks I yet\n more might tell!\n For Love knoweth joy as sorrow, and he who the twain would\n weigh 775\n In a balance shall find them equal an he testeth the scales\n alway!\n\n At peace were they now, full surely, forthwith to the bath\n they went,\n Twelve fair maidens they waited on her, with them had she\n shared her tent,\n They had tended her since, all guiltless, the wrath of her\n love she bare;\n (At night might she lie well covered, tho' by day she\n ill-clad must fare) 780\n And joyful they bathed their lady--But now are ye fain to\n hear\n How Orilus won him tidings that King Arthur would now draw\n near.\n\n For thus spake a knight to his master, 'On a grassy plain I\n saw\n In fair and knightly order a thousand tents, yea, more,\n For Arthur the noble monarch, the King of the Breton's land 785\n With a wondrous fair host of maidens his court holdeth nigh\n at hand;\n Methinks scarce a mile are they distant, nor shout of knights\n shall fail,\n On either side Plimiz\u00f6l's waters their camp lies adown the\n vale.'\n\n Then the Duke in haste and gladness forth from his bath he\n stept--\n Would ye know how she fared, Jeschut\u00e9? No longer the lady\n wept, 790\n But she went, the fair and gentle, from her bath to her couch\n straightway,\n And far fairer, I ween, her garments than she ware for many a\n day.\n And closely they clung together, the prince and the princess\n wise,\n And Love came to the aid of gladness, and joy here hath won\n the prize.\n Then the maidens they clad their lady, but the knights their\n lord's armour brought, 795\n And much had ye praised the vesture of Jeschut\u00e9, 'twas fairly\n wrought\n And birds caught in snares they brought them, on their couch\n did they sit the twain,\n And joyful they ate; many kisses from her lord did Jeschut\u00e9\n gain!\n\n Then they brought to the lovely lady a palfrey, so strong and\n fair,\n 'Twas bridled, and richly saddled, and a lady right well\n might bear, 800\n And they lifted her to the saddle, with her brave lord she\n hence would ride;\n But his charger was armed, as for battle the knight would his\n steed bestride,\n And the sword he that morn had wielded hung the saddle-bow\n before.\n Then from foot to head well arm\u00e8d he came forth to his steed\n once more,\n And there, where his lady waited, to the saddle he sprung,\n the knight, 805\n He would ride forth without delaying, with Jeschut\u00e9 his lady\n bright.\n But his folk should fare back to Lalande, save one knight who\n should show the way\n To the camp and the court of King Arthur, so he counselled\n his folk that day.\n\n Soon came they anear King Arthur, and his tents they right\n well espied,\n For the space of a mile they stretched them adown by the\n water's side. 810\n The knight who had led him hither he bade to his folk repair,\n No comrade he'ld have save Jeschut\u00e9, his lady so true and\n fair.\n And Arthur, the brave and humble, he sat where at eve he'ld\n eat,\n On a plain with his vassals round him, in order due and meet.\n Duke Orilus rode to their circle, and none might his blazon\n know, 815\n So hewn were both shield and helmet--'twas Parzival dealt\n such blow!\n\n From his horse sprang the gallant hero, Jeschut\u00e9 she held his\n rein;\n Swift sprang the squires to aid them, and thronged close\n around the twain,\n And they spake, 'We will care for the horses,'--Orilus, on\n the grass he laid\n His shield so marred and splintered, and he asked of the\n gracious maid 820\n For whose sake he had ridden thither, and they showed him the\n lady's seat,\n Kunnewaar\u00e9 she was of Lalande, and her mien for a maid was\n meet.\n\n Then, armed, he drew near unto them--King and queen bade him\n welcome fair,\n He thanked them, and to his sister his pledge was he fain to\n swear,\n But the maiden, right well she knew him by the golden\n dragon's shine, 825\n And she spake, 'Thou art sure my brother, Orilus, or\n L\u00e4helein,\n And pledge will I take from neither, for both of ye aye were\n fain\n To render to me such service as I from your hands would gain.\n I were dead to all truth and honour if I dealt with thee as a\n foe,\n My courtesy sure were sham\u00e8d by my own hand, and laid alow.' 830\n\n Then the prince knelt before the maiden and he spake, 'Thou\n the truth hath said,\n I am Orilus thy brother; the Red Knight this oath hath laid\n On me that my pledge I yield thee, for so must I buy my life,\n Wilt thou take it, then have I done that which I sware after\n bitter strife.'\n Then his pledge, who had borne the dragon, in her white hand\n the maid must take, 835\n And she set him free, and he rose up, and thus to his sister\n spake:\n\n 'Now to sorrow shall faith constrain me, alas! who hath\n smitten thee?\n The blows perforce must wound me--He who lusted thereto might\n see,\n If this were the hour for vengeance, that grief I with thee\n must share;\n And the bravest of men mourneth with me that ever a woman\n bare, 840\n He calleth himself the Red Knight--O king! he doth bid me\n greet\n Both thee and the queen thy lady, he doth offer ye service\n meet,\n As he fain would serve this my sister--His service ye will\n repay,\n If ye kindly entreat this maiden that her shaming be put\n away.\n And I, too, had fared far better at the hand of this\n dauntless knight, 845\n Had he known the maid for my sister, and her blows on my\n heart must light.'\n\n Now Kay, he hath earned fresh hatred from all who would there\n abide,\n Both knights and gentle ladies, by Plimiz\u00f6l's flowing tide,\n From Iofreit the son of Id\u00f6l, from Gawain, and the vanquished\n king\n Klamid\u00e9, of whose sore peril I of yore unto ye would sing. 850\n And from many another hero whose names I right well had told,\n But o'er-long would it be my story--So they thronged round\n the hero bold,\n And, courteous, he took their service--his wife would they\n nearer bring,\n She sat as yet on her palfrey, and they welcomed her, queen\n and king.\n\n Then the women they kissed each other, and thus spake the\n king so true, 855\n 'Thy father, King Lac of Karnant, for a gallant man I knew,\n For his sake I mourned thy sorrow when first men the tale did\n bear,\n Methinks that thy lord should have spared thee for the sake\n of thy face so fair!\n For the prize was thine at Kanedig thro' the light of thy\n beauty's ray,\n And the hawk didst thou win for thy fairness, on thine hand\n did it ride away. 860\n If Orilus wrong hath done me, yet I wished unto thee no ill,\n And never I liked his judgment; and so doth it please me\n still\n To see thee restored to favour, and clad in these garments\n fair,\n As fitting thy state, O Lady! since woe thou o'er-long didst\n bear.'\n And she quoth, 'Now may God reward thee, O Sire! for these\n words so true, 865\n That thy fame may wax the higher, and may blossom and bloom\n anew!'\n\n Then Jeschut\u00e9 and her husband, the twain, she took by the\n hand,\n And forth from the circle led them, the maiden of fair\n Lalande.\n And near to the royal pavilion, where a stream from the\n meadow sprung,\n Stood her tent on the plain, and above it a wing\u00e8d dragon\n hung; 870\n Half an apple it held in its clutches, and four ropes did it\n draw on high,\n E'en as if the tent it lifted, and aloft to the clouds would\n fly.\n And Orilus thereby knew it, for the self-same arms he bare,\n And beneath it would they disarm him--Then his sister so true\n and fair,\n She gave him due care and honour, and the vassals, each one\n they spake, 875\n How the Red Knight's valour dauntless would Fame for its\n comrade take.\n\n As thus aloud men praised him, in Kingron's ear spake Kay,\n And he bade him do Orilus service--(Well he might, whom he\n thus did pray,\n For oft had he done such service for Klamid\u00e9 in Brandigan.)\n And for this Kay would give his office to the hand of another\n man, 880\n His ill-star had bid him smite her, the prince's sister fair,\n So hard with his staff, 'twas fitting from their service he\n should forbear.\n Nor pardon she found for his trespass, this maiden of royal\n race;\n But viands he sent, and Kingron, he set them before their\n face.\n\n Kunnewaar\u00e9, the wise and gentle, with her slender hands and\n white, 885\n Would cut the food for her brother, at his side sat his lady\n bright.\n And Jeschut\u00e9 of Karnant bare her with courteous and comely\n mien,\n And Arthur the King forgat not, for fain he the twain had\n seen,\n And he came where they sat together, and ate with right\n friendly will,\n And he spake, 'Be good service lacking, then for sure it\n shall please me ill, 890\n For ne'er hath a host received ye, I trow, with a will so\n good,\n And a heart so free from falsehood!' And he spake in kindly\n mood,\n 'My Lady Kunnewaar\u00e9, see thou well to this gallant knight,\n And the blessing of God be on ye, and keep ye till morning\n light!'\n Then Arthur to rest betook him, and a couch for the twain\n they spread, 895\n And till daylight in peace they slumbered, and sorrow afar\n had fled.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VI\n\nARTHUR\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBOOK VI. tells how King Arthur sought for the Red Knight; and how\nhe took an oath of his heroes to refrain from fighting. Of the\nblood-stained snow, and the love-trance of Parzival; and how,\nunknowing, he overthrew Segramor, and took vengeance on Kay. How\n Gawain\nled Parzival to the court of King Arthur; and how he was made a\n knight\nof the Round Table. Of the coming of Kondrie, and Kingrimursel,\n and the\nshaming of Parzival and Gawain. Of Parzival's wrath and despair,\n and\nhow he rode forth to seek the Grail. How the knights went forth\n to the\nventure of Ch\u00e2teau Merveil; and how Gawain rode to Askalon; and\n of the\nscattering of this goodly company.\n\n BOOK VI\n\n ARTHUR\n\n Now perchance it were well I should tell ye, how, as this his\n folk did pray,\n From Karid\u00f6l and his kingdom, King Arthur had ridden away.\n And now the venture telleth, on his own and on stranger\n ground\n For eight days long had they ridden, nor yet had the Red\n Knight found.\n For in truth 'twas for him they were seeking, to honour his\n hand were fain, 5\n From sorrow had he released them, who had erst Prince Ither\n slain;\n And Klamid\u00e9 the king, and Kingron, in a welcome hour had sent\n To the court of the Breton Monarch: for on this was King\n Arthur bent,\n He would make him one of his circle, a knight of the Table\n Round,\n No labour too great he counted, so the hero at last he found! 10\n\n Thus o'er mountain and vale they sought him--All who knightly\n shield might bear,\n King Arthur now called around him, and in this wise he bade\n them swear:\n What deeds so e'er of knighthood they should see, by this\n their oath,\n They should on no conflict venture, but faithful still keep\n their troth,\n As they sware unto him, their monarch, and fight but as he\n thereto 15\n Should give them leave--He spake thus, 'Now, 'tis well! Since\n we needs must go\n Thro' many a stranger country, where many a stranger spear,\n And many a gallant hero are waiting us, I fear,\n If ye, like hounds untrain\u00e8d whose leash shall have slipped\n the hand\n Of him who was late their master, shall roam free o'er all\n the land, 20\n Much evil might there befall ye, and such chance should but\n please me ill,\n And by this your oath, I think me, such rashness I best may\n still.\n Be ye sure and need ariseth, your king ne'er will say you\n Nay,\n Till then, as I here command ye, ride peaceful upon your\n way.'\n\n Now the oath, ye shall well have heard it--Now hear ye how\n Parzival, 25\n The Waleis, rode near unto them: thro' the night did the\n snow-flakes fall,\n Light they fell, yet lay thickly on him, yet if well I the\n tale may know,\n And the singer aright hath sung it, it was never the time of\n snow;\n For whate'er men have sung or spoken of King Arthur, at\n Whitsuntide,\n Or when May-blossoms deck the meadow, these marvels did aye\n betide. 30\n For sweetly the springtide bloometh, and many a garb, I ween,\n Shall it bear this song of my singing, tho' snow-clad it now\n be seen.\n\n The falconers from Karid\u00f6l, as the shadows of evening fell,\n Rode, hawking, by Plimiz\u00f6l's waters, when an evil chance\n befell,\n For the best of their hawks flew from them, nor stooped to\n the lure again, 35\n But all night in the dusky shadows of the woodland it did\n remain.\n\n With Parzival it sheltered; to the twain was the woodland way\n A road unknown, sharp the frost stung, in the far east uprose\n the day,\n And, lo! all around the hero, the snow-flakes lay thick and\n white:\n Thro' the forest paths untrodden, in ever waxing light, 40\n Rode our hero by hedge or thicket, by rock and by fallen\n tree,\n Till clear grew the shadowy woodland, and its depths he well\n might see,\n And a mighty tree of the forest had fallen where he would\n ride,\n (The falcon yet followed after) 'mid its clustering boughs he\n spied\n A flock of wild-geese from the Northland, their hissing he\n first had heard, 45\n Swift swooped the falcon upon them and struck to the earth a\n bird:\n And scarce might it fly the clutches of its foe, and fresh\n shelter take\n 'Neath the shade of the fallen branches; in its flight from\n the wounds there brake\n Three blood-drops, all glowing crimson, and fell on the\n spotless snow,\n As Parzival's eyes beheld them, swift sorrow his heart must\n know! 50\n\n Now hear ye his love so loyal--As he looked on these\n blood-drops bright,\n That stained with a stain of crimson the snow-flakes that lay\n so white,\n He thought, 'Say what hand hath painted these colours that\n here I see?\n Kondwiramur, I think well, these tints sure shall liken thee!\n And white snow and blood-drops crimson, do ever thy likeness\n share, 55\n For this favour I praise God's working, and the world he hath\n wrought so fair!\n For in this wise I read the vision,--in this snow that so\n spotless lies,\n 'Gainst the blood-drops, that ruddy-gleaming, glow crimson\n beneath mine eyes,\n I find ever thy face so gracious, my lady, Kondwiramur,\n Red as blood-drops and white as the snowdrift, it rejoiceth\n me evermore!' 60\n Then her sweet face arose before him, in that night she first\n sought his side,\n When on each cheek a tear-drop glistened, and a third to her\n chin did glide.\n And so true was his love and steadfast, little recked he of\n aught around,\n But wrapped round in love and longing, saw naught but the\n blood-stained ground.\n Frau Minne with force constrained him, as here on his wife he\n thought, 65\n And by magic of colours mystic, a spell on his senses\n wrought.\n\n So held he him still, as sleeping--Would ye know who found\n him there?\n The squire of fair Kunnewaar\u00e9 would forth unto Lalande fare,\n And as on his way he journeyed, by the woodland green he saw\n A helmet all battle-dinted, and a shield which yet traces\n bore 70\n Of many a bitter conflict that was foughten for lady fair;\n And a knight there abode in armour, and his lance he aloft\n did bear\n As one who here patient waited the joust that he fain would\n ride.\n The squire swiftly turned his bridle and back to the camp he\n hied.\n Yet in sooth had he seen the stranger, and his lady's\n champion known, 75\n He had ne'er been so swift to decry him, nor had wished he\n were overthrown,\n Nor e'en as he were an outlaw, set the heroes upon his track:\n The squire he of queen unfaithful, small wonder he knighthood\n lacked!\n\n And in this wise he called upon them, 'Fie! Fie! on ye,\n coward knights!\n Hold ye not Gawain for a marvel? Have ye not in a hundred\n fights 80\n Won honour and fame as heroes, who fight for a hero king?\n Know now that ye stand dishonoured, and broken your goodly\n ring!'\n Ah! then there arose a clamour, and none but was fain to know\n Of the deed of knightly prowess, that should shame their\n honour so.\n When they heard how but one knight dared them, that but one\n knight a foe did wait, 85\n Then sorely they mourned the promise that they sware to their\n king of late.\n Then Knight Segramor sprang swiftly from amid the angry\n throng,\n He ran, for in sooth he walked not, and ever his heart did\n long\n To be in the midst of conflict, where conflict might chance\n to be,\n An they fail\u00e8d with cords to bind him, in the thick of the\n fight was he! 90\n And nowhere the Rhine's swift waters may flow so strong and\n wide,\n Tho' the stream should run swift between them, an men fought\n on the further side,\n He stayed not to test the waters, if the current be hot or\n cold,\n But straightway the stream he breasted, as fitted a swimmer\n bold!\n\n Swift-foot to the tent of the monarch, the eager youth he\n sped, 95\n For the day was but yet in its dawning, and the king he lay\n yet abed.\n Then straight thro' the lists he hied him, and he gat him\n thro' the door,\n And the covering all of sable, with hasty hand he tore\n From the twain who lay warm beneath it, and slumbered a\n slumber deep,\n Yet his haste moved them but to laughter, tho' he waked them\n from out their sleep! 100\n And loudly he cried on his cousin--'Queen, Lady, Guinevere,\n Since the world knoweth well our kinship, thou must do me\n this service here,\n Speak thou for me to thine husband, and pray thou of him this\n grace,\n Since a knightly venture nears us, my lot _first_ the foe to\n face!'\n\n Yet Arthur spake, 'Now bethink thee of the oath thou didst\n swear to me, 105\n In all things my will to follow, nor rashly to venture thee;\n For if thou a joust now ridest, hereafter shall many a knight\n Crave leave at mine hand to ride forth, and seek for fame in\n fight,\n And 'twere ill thus our force to weaken, for know thou that\n near at hand,\n Anfortas of Monsalv\u00e4sch with a mighty host doth stand. 110\n This wood of his he guardeth, and since we but little know\n Where he and his force shall hold them, such chance well\n might work us woe!'\n\n Yet Guinevere wrought so wisely Segramor was well-nigh fain\n To die of joy, from King Arthur, his lady this grace did\n gain.\n And on fame and honour only was the gallant youth intent, 115\n Nor for gold had he sold the venture on which his heart was\n bent.\n\n Now the hero young and beardless, well armed his steed\n bestrode,\n And over the fresh young greensward his charger at full speed\n rode;\n And the bushes were bent beneath him, and the golden bells\n rang clear\n On trapping alike and armour; and I deem well an need were\n here 120\n To seek for the magic pheasant mid thicket and thorny brake,\n He who fain this knight had followed, the bells for his guide\n might take!\n Thus rashly rode the hero, to him whom Frau Minne's spell\n Fast fettered in magic fetters, and no blow at the first\n there fell,\n For the peace by his word was broken--There held fast by\n threefold might, 125\n And the power of red blood-drops threefold stood ever the\n stranger knight.\n\n (Yea, well I myself have known this, how Frau Minne with\n power may hold,\n And holding, the senses scatter, and with passion of grief\n untold\n Shall fill the heart to o'erflowing--'Twas a woman who\n wrought this ill,\n And vanquished, she doth condemn me, and refuseth me comfort\n still. 130\n Thus draweth she guilt upon her, for the sin shall be hers, I\n ween,\n And afar must I fly from the presence, that of old time my\n joy hath been.)\n\n Thus Segramor quoth unto him, 'Now it seemeth but ill to me\n That thus near our army lieth, and our presence rejoiceth\n thee!\n And thou holdest his fame too lightly, whom with pride we may\n hail our king, 135\n And 'tis meet thou for this do penance,--or the death-chime\n for me shall ring!\n Thus armed, all too near thou ridest; yet first would I\n courteous pray\n That thou yield thee at this my bidding, or my wrong will I\n here repay,\n And my blow shall be swift, and thy falling shall scatter\n these snow-flakes white!\n And I call on thee here to yield thee, ere I put thee to\n shame, Sir Knight!' 140\n\n Yet Parzival still kept silence--for Frau Minne, so fair and\n young,\n In a sorer conflict held him--Then his steed Segramor swung\n Aside, as for jousting ready, round wheeled him the war-horse\n good\n On whose back the gallant hero yet sate in mystic mood,\n And ever he gazed on the blood-drops; as his charger turned\n him round 145\n Awhile from his eyes they vanished, and fame in their stead\n he found!\n For swift as the blood-drops crimson thus passed from his\n dazzled sight,\n He hearkened the voice of the foeman, and braced him anew for\n fight.\n\n Then as Segramor rode against him, Parzival sought afresh the\n spear\n That he found by the woodland chapel, with blazon of colours\n clear; 150\n For tough was the shaft, and he gripped it, and he held the\n point full low,\n As his foeman dashed fair against him, his shield rang with\n the ringing blow.\n Then he spurred him anew to the onslaught, and the joust he\n so well repaid,\n That the knight in his golden armour was low in the snowdrift\n laid!\n Yet still was the spear unsplintered, tho' it bare him from\n off his horse; 155\n And Parzival still kept silence, and he wheeled him upon his\n course,\n And his eyes sought once more the blood-drops, and e'en as\n they met his sight\n Frau Minne with fetters bound him, and held him in cords of\n might,\n And he spake never word, nor question, but gazed ever upon\n the ground,\n And, dreaming, he lost the knowledge which he for a space had\n found! 160\n\n But affrighted, the gallant charger had fled back into its\n stall,\n And its rider arose, little comfort might he find, though he\n soft might fall!\n Outstretched had he lain in the snowdrift, in such wise e'en\n as men shall go\n To rest, yet but ill he sleepeth, who sleepeth on couch of\n snow!\n And such bed had sorrow brought me! for he to whom ill\n betides 165\n Hath but mocking for his bedfellow, but the lucky doth God's\n hand guide.\n\n So near was King Arthur's army, that right well might\n Parzival\n Be seen of all men, and the wonders, and the conflict that\n then befell.\n The victor by Love was vanquished, by Love that in days of\n old\n Did the king of all kings the wisest, King Solomon, captive\n hold! 170\n Short space, then, ere back to the army once more Knight\n Segramor came,\n An with praise or with blame they should greet him, he\n counted it still the same.\n And sharp words he flung among them, with mocking tongue and\n bold,\n Tho' vanquished, yet not dishonoured, must they ever the hero\n hold!\n\n And he quoth, 'Have ye never heard this, that strife bringeth\n loss as gain? 175\n And never a joust, I wot me, but the victor doth one remain,\n While one aye shall be the vanquished: The best ship in storm\n may sink,\n And I wot that ye ne'er have heard me to speak, for I ne'er\n did think,\n An he knew of my shield the blazon, he had faced me not as a\n foe!\n Much evil, in sooth, hath he wrought me, and yet doth he wait\n below 180\n All those who would ride against him, for he seemeth for\n conflict fain,\n An a knight should in joust o'erthrow him, such chance might\n he count for gain.'\n\n Then straightway unto King Arthur Sir Kay did the tidings\n bring,\n How his knight, Segramor, had fallen, and his victor, without\n their ring,\n A young knight, for jousting ready, yet waited with ill\n intent-- 185\n 'Nay, I think an this stranger warrior of so many unpunished\n went,\n A burden both sore and shameful on our honour such lack would\n lay;\n Now, my king, an thou hold me worthy, do thou grant me this\n grace, I pray,\n I would ride hence to ask his meaning, who thus in the\n presence fair\n Of our Queen Guinevere and her maidens his lance-point aloft\n doth bear; 190\n But if thou shouldst this boon refuse me, then know, not\n another hour\n I abide here as this thy servant; for I hold that the\n knightly power\n And the fair fame of thy Round Table are stain\u00e8d if we delay\n To arm ourselves 'gainst the stranger who dareth our strength\n to-day!\n Now, I prithee, give leave to fight him--For tho' blind and\n deaf were we, 195\n Yet 'tis time that we should defend us'--'As thou willest, so\n let it be!'\n\n Then swift did the seneschal arm him, and I ween in fierce\n anger's fire\n A woodland he fain had wasted 'gainst the foe, who with\n strong desire\n And love was thus sorely burdened; for Frau Minne a magic\n spell\n Had wrought with the snow-flakes spotless, and the\n blood-drops that crimson fell. 200\n And his knighthood he sorely sham\u00e8d, who thought here to work\n him harm,\n Since he faileth true Love to honour, who denieth of Love the\n charm.\n\n Frau Minne, say, why dost thou make glad the souls that mourn\n With bliss that too swiftly fleeting, but leaveth them more\n forlorn?\n And how canst thou, Frau Minne, true worth and knightly fame, 205\n And manly strength and courage, thus vanquish and put to\n shame?\n For the least is to thee as the greatest, and the earth shall\n no hero boast,\n Who thinketh to scorn thine empire, but he learneth unto his\n cost\n That thou canst, an thou wilt, o'erthrow him; yea, all men\n thy power obey,\n For thy sceptre we own as mighty, and wide as the world its\n sway. 210\n\n Yet this one thing it doth thee honour, tho' thou rulest all\n else but ill,\n Joy maketh her dwelling with thee, and for this would I\n praise thee still!\n\n Frau Minne, alas! of old time full false were thy ways, I\n ween,\n Nor hast thou thy dealings mended, nor to-day hast thou truer\n been,\n Thou hast many a maiden sham\u00e8d, who love forbidden sought; 215\n Thro' thy dealings, upon the vassal, his lord hath sorrow\n brought;\n And the friend shall false and faithless to the friend of his\n bosom prove,\n And the servant betray his master; such deeds do but shame\n thee, Love!\n And I would that it were far from thee, the body to yield to\n lust,\n In such wise that the soul asham\u00e8d is stricken with sorrow's\n thrust, 220\n And that with force compelling, the young thou makest old,\n Though their years but few be counted, this must we for\n treason hold!\n\n Such speech, I ween, beseems not the man who in serving thee\n Hath comfort found! If succour thine hand ever brought to me,\n I had been less slow to praise thee, but sorrow and loss\n alone 225\n Hast thou counted to me as guerdon, and such glamour thine\n art hath thrown\n O'er mine eyes, that, methinks, henceforward I trust thee\n never more,\n Though small profit it brought unto thee, the bitter grief I\n bore!\n And yet too high above me art thou, that whate'er my wrong,\n I should e'en as a fool upbraid thee with bitter words and\n strong: 230\n For thy spear too sharply pierces, and scarce may we bear the\n weight,\n Thou layest at will upon us--Methinks he who sang of late,\n 'Neath a tree, of thy mystic dealings, and thy wondrous ways\n of old,\n Had better done had he told us how we thy grace might hold!\n (Heinrich of Veldeck was he, and he taught us, I ween, right\n well 235\n Of the winning of Love, of its guarding, alas! he failed to\n tell.)\n For oft one thro' folly loses the prize that he late did win;\n Yea, to me hath such fate befallen, yet Frau Minne, _thine_\n was the sin!\n Since all wisdom shall be thy portion, since against thee nor\n spear, nor shield,\n Nor charger, nor guarded fortress their vaunted power can\n wield, 240\n I know not what shall withstand thee, nor on earth, nor on\n the sea!\n He who feareth to face thy conflict, say whither shall he\n flee?\n 'Twas thy mystic power, Frau Minne, that dealt thus with\n Parzival,\n And reft him awhile of knowledge, and wrought with him as a\n fool.\n For fair was the queen and gracious who reigned in far\n Pelrap\u00e4r, 245\n And she thought on her lord and husband, and she made thee\n her message bear.\n And for this cause Kardeiss her brother, hast thou for thy\n payment slair,\n And since thou such tribute askest, 'tis well that I ne'er\n have ta'en\n From thine hand aught of good, since in such wise thou dost\n for thy debtors care--\n This I spake for the sake of all men--List ye now how Sir Kay\n did fare: 250\n\n Now he rode forth in knightly armour to the strife that he\n sore did crave,\n And Gamuret's son, right willing, to his wish fulfilment\n gave.\n And wherever fair maids compelling, their voices uplift in\n prayer,\n And the grace they shall ask be granted, let them pray here\n for his welfare,\n Since it was thro' a woman's beauty, that the spell of a\n woman wrought 255\n Love's magic, of senses robbed him--Then his charger to halt\n Kay brought;\n And he spake to the gallant Waleis, 'Sir Knight, since thou\n thus our king\n Hast shamed, thou shalt hear my counsel, for wisdom perchance\n 'twill bring;\n Thou shalt hang thee a hempen halter around thy neck\n straightway,\n For so may I lightly lead thee, and take thou with me thy\n way. 260\n Nor think thou, thou canst escape me, but with me unto my\n lord\n Shalt thou go, as befits a captive, else worse may be thy\n reward!'\n\n By love constrained, the Waleis nor word nor answer spoke,\n Kay gripped his spear-shaft tightly and he smote with a\n mighty stroke\n On the hero's head, till the helmet rang loudly beneath his\n hand; 265\n And he quoth, 'Now will I awake thee! Dost think here to take\n thy stand,\n And standing sleep unsheeted? Nay, other shalt thou fare,\n Low on the snow I'll lay thee! The ass that is wont to bear\n The sack from the mill would rue it, did one smite him in\n such wise,\n As here I think now to smite thee, and thy sloth and thy\n sleep chastise!' 270\n\n Frau Minne, now bethink thee, for sore this shameth thee,\n For an one should wrong a peasant, in this wise his speech\n will be,\n 'My lord will sure repay thee!' Vengeance from thee he'ld\n seek\n Methinks, this gallant Waleis, an thou wouldst let him speak!\n Now let him from out thy circle, and loose him from thy ban, 275\n This stranger guest shalt prove him, a true and valiant man!\n\n Swift rode Sir Kay unto him, and he turned his bridle round,\n And no more his longing glances their joy and their sorrow\n found,\n The white snow and blood-drops crimson, that mystic likeness\n bare\n To the queen of his love and his longing, the Lady of\n Pelrap\u00e4r; 280\n He knew all that passed around him--His charger Sir Kay\n addrest\n To jousting, he spurred him onward, and his spear he laid in\n rest.\n\n In the joust, that which Kay had aimed at he smote, for his\n spear did pierce\n The Waleis' shield, yet swift payment was his, for in\n onslaught fierce\n The seneschal of King Arthur fell prone on the fallen tree, 285\n Where the geese erewhile had hid them, and hurt full sore was\n he,\n And dead lay his gallant charger--''Twixt a stone and the\n saddle-bow,\n Right arm, and left leg had he broken--so mighty his\n overthrow\n That all that had decked his charger, girths, saddle, bells\n of gold,\n By the force of the fall were shattered, thus the stranger\n his payment told, 290\n And with one blow, for twain repaid him--the one that erst\n for his sake,\n A maiden had borne and the other, which he from Kay's hand\n must take.\n\n Thus he who knew naught of falsehood was guided of truth to\n know\n Her message in blood-drops threefold, on the white of the\n drifted snow.\n 'Twas tear-drops, not blood, that he saw there, and well\n might his senses fail, 295\n And the thoughts of his heart wax heavy, as he mused on the\n wondrous Grail,\n And sorely the semblance grieved him that spake of his wife\n and queen.\n Yet tho' o'er the twain he sorrowed, the greater woe, I ween,\n Was the woe that Frau Minne wrought him, for there liveth not\n heart so strong,\n But longing and love united break its power, ere the time be\n long. 300\n Count we here those twain as ventures? Nay, 'twere better\n methinks to hold,\n That they were naught but pain and sorrow, that vanquished\n the hero bold.\n\n Now ye unto whom I tell this, I rede ye to mourn Kay's woe,\n For full oft as his manhood bade him, he many a strife did\n know.\n And in many a land they speak thus, that Kay, Arthur's\n seneschal, 305\n Was a firebrand, hell-born, yet I wot well far other the tale\n I'ld tell.\n From reproach would I gladly free him, tho' few but should\n say me nay,\n Yet a gallant man and a worthy, I swear was this knight, Sir\n Kay.\n And my mouth to this truth beareth witness, and more would I\n tell to thee;\n Unto Arthur's Court came strangers in many a company, 310\n And their manners and ways were diverse, nor all there might\n honour claim,\n But Kay an he saw false dealing, he counted such ways as\n shame,\n And his face he turned from the sinner, yet he who dealt\n courteously,\n And true man with true men would hold him, Kay served him\n right heartily.\n\n And one who fall well discern\u00e8d the manner of men was Kay, 315\n Thus he did to his lord good service, for his harsh words\n drave far away\n The men who would falsely vaunt them good knights and true to\n be,\n Ill was he to them as a hailstorm, sharp as sting of an angry\n bee.\n Small wonder that these deny him his honour and knightly\n fame,\n True servant and wise they found him, and for this cause upon\n his name 320\n Their hatred doth still heap slander--Prince Herman,\n Thuringia's lord,\n Thou with vassals that crowd around thee, and strangers who\n seek thy board,\n Good service might Kay have done thee, since so free art thou\n aye of hand,\n That true men and men dishonoured, side by side in thine hall\n they stand;\n And therefore Knight Walter singeth, 'Now greeting to all I\n bring, 325\n Men evil and good!' And I trow well, where a singer such song\n may sing,\n There the false are too highly honoured--Nay, far other Sir\n Kay had taught,\n (Yea, and Heinrich of Rispach also)--Now hearken ye in what\n sort\n On Plimiz\u00f6l's plain men bare them; from the field Sir Kay was\n borne\n To the tent of his king, and around him, o'er his ill-fate\n his friends did mourn; 330\n And maiden and knight they stood there; to the tent where his\n comrade lay\n Came Gawain, and he quoth in sadness, 'Alas! for the woeful\n day\n That so ill a joust was ridden that hath robbed me of a\n friend!'\n Then out spake Kay in his anger, 'Now make of thy moan an\n end,\n If comfort thou here wouldst bring me, do not as the women\n do, 335\n Since thou art my monarch's nephew! I would do to thee\n service true,\n As of free heart I ever did it, in the day that God gave me\n power,\n Nor long for my aid hadst thou prayed me! There cometh,\n perchance, an hour\n When I, as of old, may serve thee: now cease thou thy moan I\n pray,\n For tho' mine be the pain, yet my monarch shall ne'er find\n another Kay, 340\n And I wot that for mine avenger art thou all too nobly born;\n An yet hadst _thou_ lost a finger I had counted myself\n forsworn\n An I risked not mine head to pay it! Let that be as it may,\n Believe me or not, as shall please thee, yet sooth are the\n words I say!'\n\n 'No joust shalt thou ride at my urging, for roughly he greets\n his foe, 345\n Who holdeth without his station, and rideth nor swift nor\n slow.\n And I think me, of maidens' tresses, tho' frail be such cord\n and fair,\n Enough from such strife to bind thee, the chain of a single\n hair!\n And the man who shall show such meekness, he well doth his\n _mother_ love,\n Since his _sire_ would fain in the conflict his knightly\n mettle prove. 350\n But follow thou aye thy mother, Sir Gawain, list well her\n rede.\n Turn thou pale at the glancing sword-blade, and shrink from\n the manly deed!'\n\n And thus on the gallant hero the bitter words he spake\n Fell sharply, he looked not for them, nor on Kay might he\n vengeance take,\n Full seldom a knight may do so, since shame on his lips\n setteth seal, 355\n But they who thus speak discourteous, such shame shall they\n never feel.\n\n Then Gawain he quoth in answer, 'Where men knightly sword\n might bear,\n And have foughten, and I fought with them, then no man beheld\n me there,\n And saw that my cheek waxed paler at sight of wound or blow.\n I was ever thy friend--'twas needless that thou shouldst\n reproach me so!' 360\n Then he strode from the tent, and he bade them bring hither\n his charger good,\n Nor spur on his heel he buckled, unarmed he his steed\n bestrode.\n\n So came he unto the Waleis (whose sense was of love held\n fast),\n And his shield to all eyes bare witness of three spears thro'\n its circle passed,\n For three jousts of late had he ridden, and he rode them with\n heroes twain, 365\n Of Orilus too was he smitten--Then gently uprode Gawain,\n And he spurred not his steed to gallop, nor conflict nor\n strife he sought,\n For he rode but in love and in kindness, to seek him who here\n had fought.\n Fair spake Gawain the stranger, to greeting deaf was he,\n Frau Minne yet held him captive, how other might it be? 370\n True son of Herzeleide, to this lot was he born,\n To lose himself for love's sake; such passion as had torn\n The hearts of these his parents, afresh in his heart awoke,\n And but little his ear might hearken what the mouth of Gawain\n spoke.\n\n Quoth King Lot's son unto the Waleis,' Sir Knight, here thou\n doest ill 375\n In that thou withholdest greeting--tho' patient I wait thy\n will\n Far otherwise can I bear me! Know thou that to friend and\n king,\n Yea, to all whom I count my fellows, thy deed doth dishonour\n bring,\n And our shame ever waxeth greater; yet prayed I for thee this\n grace,\n The king of free heart forgives thee, if now thou shalt seek\n his face. 380\n So hearken, I pray, my counsel, and do thou as I shall say,\n And ride thou with me to King Arthur, nor too long shalt thou\n find the way.'\n\n Nor threatening nor prayer might move him, this fair son of\n Gamuret:\n Then the pride of King Arthur's knighthood his memory\n backward set,\n And he thought of Frau Minne's dealings, and the time when\n the knife's sharp blade 385\n He drave thro' his hand unwitting, thro' the love of a\n gracious maid.\n And that time when from death's cold clutches, a queen's hand\n had set him free,\n When of L\u00e4helein was he vanquished, and captive in joust was\n he,\n And a queen in the day of his danger must pledge her fair\n life for his,\n And her name shall of men be prais\u00e8d, Queen Ingus of\n Bachtarliess. 390\n Thought Gawain, 'It may be Frau Minne dealeth so with this\n goodly man,\n As she dealt with me of old time, so claspeth him in the ban\n Of her magic spells fair-woven, that his spirit within the\n snare\n She holdeth fast entangled'--Then his eyes on the snow-flakes\n fair\n He cast, and he knew the token, and swift from the\n spell-bound sight 395\n With cloth of fair silk and sendal, he covered the\n blood-drops bright.\n\n The blood-stained snow was hidden, nor longer its spell was\n seen,\n And his sight and his sense unclouded she gave him, his wife\n and queen;\n Yet his heart did she hold in her keeping, and its dwelling\n was Pelrap\u00e4r,\n And he cried aloud in his sorrow thro' the silent summer air; 400\n 'Alas! who of thee hath robbed me, who erewhile wast my queen\n and wife,\n For thy love, thy crown, and thy kingdom my right hand hath\n won in strife.\n Say, say, am I he who saved thee from Klamid\u00e9 the warrior\n king?\n Yea, sorrow and bitter sighing, and grief that the heart doth\n wring\n Are the guerdons I won in thy service, and now from mine eyes\n be-dazed 405\n Art thou reft, and thy place I know not, tho' but now on thy\n face I gazed.'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Now, where shall my spear be, since I wot\n well I brought it here?'\n Quoth Gawain, 'A joust hast thou ridden, and splintered shall\n be thy spear.'\n 'With whom should I joust?' quoth the Waleis, 'thou bearest\n nor sword nor shield,\n And little had been mine honour, an thou to my hand didst\n yield! 410\n Yet bear I awhile thy mocking, nor will I thy friendship\n pray,\n Tho' many a joust have I ridden, yet my saddle I kept alway.\n An thou be not for jousting minded, and I find not in thee a\n foe,\n Yet the world lieth wide before me, and hence on my way I go;\n For labour and strife am I seeking and fain would I win me\n praise, 415\n Be anguish or joy my portion; nor unfruitful shall be my\n days.'\n\n Quoth Gawain, 'What I spake aforetime I spake of true heart\n and free,\n Nor my thoughts were the thoughts of evil, for well would I\n deal with thee;\n And the boon that I crave will I win me, my monarch with many\n a knight\n Lieth here at hand with his army, and with many a lady\n bright, 420\n An it please thee, Sir Knight, to betake thee to our goodly\n company,\n From all strife shall this right hand guard thee, and gladly\n I'll ride with thee.'\n 'I thank thee, Sir Knight, fair thou speakest, yet say ere\n with thee I ride,\n Who the monarch may be whom thou servest? and who rideth here\n at my side?'\n\n 'A man do I hail as master, thro' whose fame much fame I won, 425\n Nor here shall my mouth keep silence on the things he for me\n hath done.\n For dear hath he ever held me, and as true knight did me\n entreat:\n (His sister King Lot hath wedded, and the twain I as parents\n greet.)\n And the good gifts God gave unto me, to his service I yield\n them all,\n For my hand and my heart he ruleth, whom men do King Arthur\n call. 430\n Nor mine own name need here be hidden, nor a secret shall\n long remain,\n For the folk and the lands that know me, they call on me as\n Gawain:\n And fain would I do thee service, alike with my hand and\n name,\n If thou turnest here at my bidding, nor bringest upon me\n shame!'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Is it thou, O Gawain? too little I yet have\n done 435\n That thou shouldst as a friend entreat me; yet hast thou this\n honour won\n That all men thou gently treatest--and thy friendship I here\n will take,\n Yet not for mine own deserving, but repayment I fain would\n make.\n Now say where thine army lieth, since so many tents I see\n That stand fair by the brink of the river? If King Arthur in\n truth shall be 440\n So near, then must I bemoan me, that in honour I may not dare\n To enter his royal presence, or look on his queen so fair.\n Since 'tis meet that I first avenge me of a foul and\n discourteous blow,\n For which, since the day I left them, I sorrow and shame must\n know.\n For a maiden as she beheld me, laughed sweetly, the seneschal 445\n For my sake smote the maid so sorely, 'twas a wood that upon\n her fell.'\n\n 'Rough vengeance thou here hast taken! (Gawain to the Waleis\n spake)\n Since thou in a joust hast felled him, and right arm and left\n leg he brake.\n Ride here, see his charger lifeless, that lieth the stone\n below;\n On the snowdrift behold the splinters of the spear that hath\n dealt the blow! 450\n 'Tis the spear thou but now wast seeking!' Then the truth\n knew Sir Parzival,\n And straightway he spake unto Gawain, 'Now, if this be the\n seneschal,\n And the man who so sorely shamed me, if thou swear me that\n this was he,\n Thou mayst ride where thou wilt, and gladly will I ride in\n thy company!'\n 'Nay, never a lie do I tell thee,' quoth Gawain, 'thou hast\n overthrown 455\n Segramor, who ere now in battle was ever as victor known,\n He fell ere yet Kay had met thee: great deeds hast thou done\n to-day,\n Since o'er two of our bravest heroes the prize thou hast\n borne away.'\n\n So rode they, the one with the other, the Waleis and Knight\n Gawain,\n And the folk, both afoot and on horseback, with honour would\n greet the twain, 460\n Gawain and his guest the Red Knight, this did they of\n courtesy,\n And the twain to his fair pavilion they gat them right\n speedily.\n And the lady, fair Kunnewaar\u00e9, whose tent by Gawain's did\n stand,\n Rejoiced, and she joyful greeted the hero, whose strong right\n hand\n Had failed not to wreak stern vengeance for the ill that Kay\n wrought that day; 465\n Then her brother and fair Jeschut\u00e9 she led by the hand\n straightway,\n And Parzival looked upon them as the three to his tent drew\n near,\n And his face, thro' the rust of his armour, it shone ever\n fair and clear,\n As roses dew-dipped had flown there: his harness aside he\n laid,\n And he stood before Kunnewaar\u00e9, and thus spake the gentle\n maid: 470\n\n 'To God shalt thou first be welcome, as welcome thou art to\n me,\n Since thy manhood thou well hast proven, and the faith that I\n had in thee!\n Ere the day that my heart beheld thee, nor laughter nor\n smiles I knew,\n And Kay, who in that hour smote me, with stern hand my\n gladness slew.\n But now hast thou well avenged me! With a kiss I thy deed\n would pay, 475\n If I of thy kiss were worthy!' 'Nay, so had I thought to-day\n To crave of thy lips my payment,' quoth Parzival, 'if thou\n still\n Wilt give me such gracious greeting, right gladly I'll do thy\n will!'\n\n Then she kissed him, and down they sate them, and the\n princess a maiden sent\n And bade her to bring rich raiment; so sped she unto the\n tent; 480\n And the garments they lay there ready, of rich silk of\n Nineveh,\n For her prisoner, King Klamid\u00e9, had she fashioned them\n cunningly.\n Then the maiden who bare the garments, full sorely must she\n bewail\n That the mantle was yet unfinished, since the silken cord did\n fail.\n Then the lady, Kunnewaar\u00e9, from her side drew a silken band 485\n From the folds of her robe, in the mantle she wove it with\n skilful hand.\n\n Then courteous her leave he prayed him, the rust would he\n wash away,\n And fair shone his face, and youthful, and his lips they were\n red that day.\n And robed was the gallant hero, and so bright and so fair was\n he,\n That all men who there beheld him, they sware he for sure\n must be 490\n The flower and the crown of manhood, a knight without shame\n or fear;\n And they looked upon him, and they praised him and his colour\n waxed bright and clear,\n And right well did his garb become him; an emerald green and\n rare,\n The gift of fair Kunnewaar\u00e9, as clasp at his neck he bare;\n And a girdle beside she gave him, all wrought in a cunning\n row 495\n With mystic beasts, bejewelled, that burnt with a fiery glow,\n And its clasp was a red-fire ruby--How think ye the beardless\n youth\n Was seen when thus richly girded? Fair was he in very sooth,\n For so the story runneth--the folk bare him right goodwill,\n Men and women who looked upon him, they counted him worthy\n still. 500\n\n Forthwith, as the Mass was ended, came Arthur the noble king,\n And the knights of his Table with him, a goodly following.\n No man there whose lips spake falsehood. Yea, all heard the\n word that day,\n 'With Gawain the Red Knight dwelleth!' the king thither took\n his way.\n\n Then the knight who so sore was beaten came swiftly, Sir\n Antanor, 505\n For, fain to behold the Waleis, his feet sped the king\n before,\n And he asked, 'Art thou he who avenged me, and the lady of\n fair Lalande?\n Now vanished shall be Kay's honour, for it falleth unto thine\n hand,\n And an end hast thou made of his threatening, and the days of\n his strife are o'er,\n For his arm it is weak, and his vengeance I fear for it never\n more!' 510\n\n And so fair was the knight and radiant, that all men beheld\n his face\n As an angel from heaven, that wingless, abideth on earth a\n space.\n And well did King Arthur greet him, and his knights were no\n whit behind,\n And all they who looked upon him, naught but love in their\n hearts might find,\n And their lips to their heart made answer, and all spake to\n his praises, 'Yea,' 515\n And no man gainsaid the other, so lovely his mien that day!\n\n Then Arthur spake fair unto him, 'Thou hast wrought me both\n joy and pain,\n Yet ne'er from the hand of a hero such honour I thought to\n gain\n As the honour that thou hast brought me! yet no service I did\n to thee,\n An I did, then thy fame had repaid it, tho' no other thy\n deeds should be 520\n Than the deed thou hast done in the winning for Jeschut\u00e9 her\n husband's grace!\n Nor Kay's guilt had been unaveng\u00e8d, if ere this I had seen\n thy face\n Myself had, unasked, chastised him.' Then Arthur in this wise\n spake,\n 'Since so far they had come, and their journey had they taken\n but for his sake,\n They all with one voice did pray him, to swear to them\n brotherhood, 525\n And be one of the gallant Table, a comrade both true and\n good.'\n And their prayer it seemed good unto him, and joyful at heart\n was he,\n And he sware them the oath that they asked for, and their\n knight would he gladly be.\n\n Now hear ye, and speak the verdict, if on this day the Table\n Round\n Its right, and its due observance had here, as aforetime\n found; 530\n Since for many a day King Arthur in this wise had ruled his\n court,\n No knight should break bread before him, if there came of\n fair venture naught.\n But enough should have chanced this morning, and to Table\n they well might go,\n Though from Nantes might they never bear it, yet they here\n would its semblance show.\n Wide enow was the flowery meadow, nor hindered them tree or\n tent, 535\n As they did here their monarch's bidding--for this was his\n heart's intent,\n Fair honour to give the Red Knight, and his valour, as meet,\n reward--\n Then a silk in Acraton woven, they laid on the grassy sward,\n 'Twas brought from far lands of paynim, and 'twas shapen both\n wide and round;\n For ever this courteous custom mid these gallant knights was\n found, 540\n No high seat had they of honour, but all men were equal\n there;\n And thus had King Arthur willed it, both the knights and\n their ladies fair\n At the Table Round were welcome, yea, an they might honour\n claim,\n Knight, lady, or gentle maiden, at his court all should fare\n the same!\n\n And there, with her maiden following, came fair Guinevere the\n queen, 545\n And many a noble princess amid her train was seen,\n And none but was fair to look on, and the ring it was spread\n so wide\n That within, without strife or crowding, each maid sat her\n knight beside.\n And Arthur, who ne'er knew falsehood, led the Waleis by the\n hand,\n And Kunnewaar\u00e9 she walked beside him, the lady of fair\n Lalande, 550\n From sorrow the knight had freed her--Then, with kind and\n friendly eyes,\n Looked Arthur upon the hero, and he spake to him in this\n wise:\n\n 'My queen will I bid to kiss thee, who art fair both of form\n and face,\n For ne'er, in this court, of lady I ween wouldst thou crave\n this grace,\n Since from Pelrap\u00e4r thou hast ridden, and wert thou on\n kissing bent 555\n From lips of all lips the fairest, hast thou there thy full\n heart's content!\n Yet this one grace will I pray thee, if ever there dawn the\n day\n That I find 'neath thy roof abiding, this kiss I may then\n repay!'\n 'In sooth, will I do thy bidding,' quoth the Waleis, 'both\n there and here!'\n Then unto the gallant hero stepped the Lady Guinevere, 560\n And fair on the lips she kissed him, and she quoth, 'Here I\n pardon thee\n The ill thou aforetime didst me, and the sorrow thou gavest\n me.\n Thou didst leave me sorely grieving, when from hence thou\n didst ride away.\n By thy hand and thy dart my kinsman Prince Ither was slain\n that day!'\n\n And all tear-bedewed were the eyelids of the Lady Guinevere, 565\n For Prince Ither's death wrought sorrow unto many a woman\n dear.\n Now must King Klamid\u00e9 seat him, on the bank by Plimiz\u00f6l,\n And beside him sate Iofreit, who was son unto King Id\u00f6l;\n And 'twixt Klamid\u00e9 and Gawain must the Waleis have his\n place--\n And they know who tell the venture, none sate here of royal\n grace, 570\n None who woman's breast had suckled, whose fame stood so high\n and fair,\n For courage and youthful beauty did the Waleis, as jewels,\n wear.\n And they owned, who there looked upon him, that many a maiden\n bright\n Saw herself in a darker mirror than the lips of this fair\n young knight.\n And on cheek and on chin his colour might well as fetters be 575\n For those who should need such fetters, whose fancy flitteth\n free.\n Here might there be naught of changing--(of women my rede I\n trow\n For some they are ever wavering, and ever new friendships\n know!)\n But his look ever constant held them, till I wot well that\n thro' their eyes\n His entry he gained triumphant, and made of their hearts his\n prize! 580\n\n Thus maiden and man beheld him, and his honour all men did\n praise,\n Till he found here the goal of sighing, and the end of his\n joyous days.\n For hither came one I must tell of, and faithful was she in\n truth\n Tho' discourteous her ways, and for sorrow, I ween, had she\n little ruth!\n And the folk for her message sorrowed--Now hear how the maid\n must ride, 585\n Her mule it was tall as a war-horse, and branded on either\n side;\n And its nostrils were slit as is custom in the far land of\n Hungary,\n Yet her harness and bridle were costly, with rich work\n broidered cunningly.\n Soft and slow paced her mule, yet the maiden was not as a\n maid, I trow.\n What sought she? She came as 'twas fated, and sorrow must\n Arthur know. 590\n And of wisdom forsooth this maiden might boast her a wondrous\n store,\n No tongue but she spake, French, Latin, and Paynim: in all\n such lore\n As men read in the highest heavens, Dialectics, Geometry,\n In all was she courteous train\u00e8d, and her name it was called\n Kondrie.\n 'The sorceress' did men name her, nor her speech halted on\n its way, 595\n Too ready her tongue, since rejoicing she smote into grief\n that day.\n\n This maiden, so rich in wisdom, bare little of maiden grace,\n No lover e'er praised her beauty, no tongue spake her fair of\n face.\n A tempest she, joy destroying, yet of bridal cloth from Ghent\n Did she wear a mantle, bluer than azure the soft tints blent. 600\n As a cap was it fairly fashioned, such as maidens in France\n shall wear,\n And beneath it, around her body, a silken robe she bare.\n And a hat of the English peacock, with silk of orient lined,\n And new was the hat, and the fastening, and it hung low the\n maid behind.\n And like to a bridge her message, that sorrow o'er joy had\n crossed, 605\n And shame enough did she bring them, till laughter in tears\n was lost.\n\n In a thick plait above her headgear had she flung her tresses\n back,\n And adown on the mule were they hanging, so long, and so\n coarse, and black,\n Nor softer to touch than the bristles, which swine on their\n backs shall show.\n And her nose as a dog's was shapen, and from out her mouth\n did grow 610\n Two tusks as had 'seemed a wild boar, a hand's-breadth long\n were they;\n And above her eyes the eyebrows as thick as plaits they lay.\n And I speak but the truth, as I needs must, tho' my words\n lack in courtesy\n Since I speak of a maid, yet, for such cause, none other\n reproacheth me.\n\n And ears as a bear had Kondrie, and never the eye might trace 615\n A shy glance of love, or of longing, I ween in that wondrous\n face.\n And a scourge did she bear, and the handle was a ruby, of\n silk the cord;\n And the hands of this winsome maiden like a lion's were\n sharply clawed,\n And the skin as an ape's was dusky, and the nails they were\n not too light,\n And I ween, for her maiden favours, but seldom would heroes\n fight! 620\n\n So rode she unto the circle, and her coming did sorrow bring,\n And fair joy did she put in peril--Then turned she unto the\n king,\n (And Kunnewaar\u00e9 sat beside him, his table-mate was she,\n And fair Guinevere, his consort, a queen bare her company.)\n Thus in royal state King Arthur as monarch sat that day-- 625\n To the Breton king rode Kondrie, and in French did she speak\n alway;\n And tho' I in another language than hers shall the venture\n tell,\n Yet I rede ye to wit that the telling it pleaseth me none too\n well!\n\n 'Thou son of high Pendragon, thyself, and thy Breton host,\n By thy deed hast thou shamed--From all lands the noblest that\n they might boast 630\n Once sat here a gallant circle, but poisoned is now their\n fame,\n And thy Table Round dishonoured by traitor, and brought to\n shame.\n King Arthur, o'er all thy fellows, thy praises of old stood\n high,\n But it sinketh now, thy glory, and thy fame, that did swiftly\n fly,\n Henceforward goeth halting; thine honour doth seek the ground 635\n Since it showeth stain of falsehood--The fame of thy Table\n Round\n It suffered for the friendship ye with Parzival did swear,\n Tho' I wot well the outward token of a spotless knight he\n bear.\n \"The Red Knight\" ye here do call him, the name of one who lay\n Dead before Nantes, yet I tell thee unlike in their life are\n they! 640\n For no mouth hath read of a hero whose fame knew nor fault\n nor flaw,\n As his!' From the king she turned her, and did rein by the\n Waleis draw,\n\n And she quoth, 'Now sore shalt thou rue it, since I, for thy\n sake deny\n My greeting unto King Arthur, and the knights of his company.\n May thy fair face be dishonoured, and thy manhood I look on\n here. 645\n Of forgiveness and joy were I merchant, in sooth shouldst\n thou buy them dear!\n And I deem thou art but a monster, and myself shall far\n fairer be!\n Speak, Sir Parzival, as I bid thee, and this riddle read thou\n to me,\n When thou sawest the fisher sit there, joyless, of comfort\n reft,\n Why didst thou not loose his sighing? Why was he in bondage\n left?' 650\n\n 'For he showed thee of his sorrow--Oh! thou false and\n faithless guest,\n For hadst thou had pity on him, his anguish had gotten rest.\n I would that thy mouth might perish, yea, the tongue thy\n mouth within,\n For e'en as the heart the tongue is, in thine _heart_ is the\n root of sin.\n To Hell shalt thou be predestined, by the Ruler of Heaven\n high, 655\n And this be on earth thy portion, that true men thy face\n shall fly.\n And ban hast thou won for blessing, and for bliss shalt thou\n find but bale,\n For too late dost thou strive for honour, and thy striving\n shall naught avail.\n And so feeble shall wax thy manhood, and thy fame it shall be\n so weak,\n That never shall soul's physician the promise of healing\n speak. 660\n An one to the oath should drive me, on thine head were I fain\n to swear,\n That never a darker treason was wrought by a man so fair.\n Thou hook in fair feathers hidden, bright serpent with\n poisoned fang,\n Who ne'er of the sword was worthy, which thine host at thy\n side did hang!\n The goal of thy sins, this thy silence, of Hell's horde art\n thou now the sport, 665\n And dishonour upon thy body, Sir Parzival, hast thou wrought.\n Saw'st thou not how they bare before thee the Grail, and the\n bleeding spear,\n And sharp silver? Thy joy's destruction, and thy shelter from\n grief were here!'\n\n 'Yea, hadst thou but asked at Monsalv\u00e4sch; afar, in a heathen\n land,\n Rich o'er all earthly riches, doth the town of Tabronit\n stand; 670\n Yet the riches thy speech had won thee had been greater far,\n I ween--\n And with gallant strife of knighthood the hand of that\n country's queen\n Feirefis Angevin hath won him: no fear doth his manhood\n stain;\n One father, I ween, hath borne ye, yet unlike shall ye be, ye\n twain.\n And thy brother is strange to look on, for both white and\n black his face, 675\n And at Zassamank he reigneth o'er the folk of his mother's\n race.'\n\n 'And my thoughts to thy sire are turning; his country was\n fair Anjou,\n And he left thee far other heirdom (for his heart never\n falsehood knew,)\n Than the heritage thou hast won thee, and the crown of an\n evil fame!\n And could I but think thy mother had wrought here a deed of\n shame 680\n I had said that _his_ child thou wert not! Yet her faith it\n but wrought her woe,\n And of her naught but good be spoken! And thy father, as all\n men know,\n In his manhood was true and steadfast, and in many a distant\n land\n He won for him meed of honour, and his praise o'er all men\n did stand.\n For great heart and little falsehood as a roof did defend his\n breast, 685\n A dam 'gainst the flood of evil, and a home for his love to\n rest.\n And in manly strength and courage was his honour for aye held\n fast,\n But _thy_ truth it is turned to falsehood, and thine honour\n to earth is cast!\n Alas! for the day I heard it, alas! for the mournful tale,\n That the child of fair Herzeleide in knighthood and faith\n should fail.' 690\n She herself was the prey of sorrow, and her hands did she\n wring amain,\n While the teardrops they chased each other down her cheeks\n like a shower of rain.\n And her eyes they gave faithful witness to the grief that her\n bosom filled,\n For of true heart she spake, the maiden, nor e'en then was\n the sorrow stilled.\n\n Then unto the king she turned her, and she spake 'Is there\n here a knight 695\n Who yearneth for love's rewarding, and for honour and fame\n would fight?\n For I know of four queens, and maidens four hundred, and all\n are fair,\n In Ch\u00e2teau Merveil is their dwelling; and like to the empty\n air\n Shall be all knightly ventures to the venture that Burg\n within,\n Yet he who shall face its peril, from true love shall his\n guerdon win. 700\n And tho' far be that Burg and distant, and weary and rough\n the way,\n Its walls must I seek if haply I reach them ere close of\n day.'\n And sad was the maid, not joyful, nor courteous she bade\n farewell,\n But weeping she gazed around her, and she cried as the\n teardrops fell,\n 'Ah! woe unto thee, Monsalv\u00e4sch, thou dwelling and goal of\n grief, 705\n Since no man hath pity on thee, or bringeth thy woe relief!'\n\n Thus had the sorceress Kondrie, that maiden fierce and proud,\n Wrought evil upon the Waleis, and his fame to the earth had\n bowed.\n Naught they helped him, his bold heart's counsel, his manhood\n and knightly fame,\n And high o'er all other virtues, the virtue of knightly\n shame. 710\n (For falsehood he ne'er had hearkened,) and true shame doth\n rewarding bring,\n And it crowneth the soul with honour as the circlet doth\n crown a king.\n And he who true shame doth cherish his work shall for ever\n stand--\n Then she lifted her voice o'er the maidens, the maiden of\n fair Lalande,\n And she wept for the words of Kondrie, and the sorrow of\n Parzival, 715\n For the fairest of men did she deem him; and swiftly the\n teardrops fell\n From the eyes of many a woman, for the sake of that hero\n bold,\n And they sorrowed at heart, and their weeping must many a\n knight behold!\n\n Now sorrow had Kondrie brought them; and e'en as her way she\n went\n Another must ride towards them on a warlike errand bent; 720\n A knight of a haughty bearing, and his harness was fair to\n see,\n From his foot to the goodly helmet, and royal its cost must\n be,\n And richly plumed was the helmet; and, e'en as the man, the\n steed\n Was clad in such glittering armour as serveth for knightly\n need.\n And he found them, both man and maiden, heavy and sad at\n heart, 725\n As he rode nigh unto the circle; hear ye how he bare his\n part--\n Tho' his mien it was high and haughty, yet his heart it was\n full of woe,\n Of the twain shall ye learn the reason; thro' his manhood he\n pride must know,\n Yet grief to his heart taught mourning--Thus rode he unto the\n ring,\n Were it well he should come within it? Then squires to his\n aid did spring, 730\n And the gallant knight they greeted, yet were he and his\n shield unknown,\n Nor he doffed from his head the helmet, and sorrow was his\n alone;\n And his hand bare a sword unsheath\u00e8d, and he asked for those\n heroes twain,\n 'Where are they whom I fain would speak with, King Arthur and\n Knight Gawain?'\n\n Then straight thro' the ring he passed him, and a costly coat\n he bare, 735\n And 'twas wrought of silk all shining, in Orient woven fair;\n And before the host he halted as he sate there within the\n ring,\n And he spake aloud, 'God's favour be on thee, thou gracious\n king,\n And upon these knights and ladies--To all whom mine eyes here\n see,\n I offer, in greeting, service, yet be _one_ from my greeting\n free; 740\n For ne'er will I do him service, nay, rather I choose his\n hate,\n If ill-will he beareth to me, mine ill-will with his may\n mate!'\n\n 'And 'twere well that I name him to ye. Alas! alas! woe is\n me!\n My heart he so sore hath wounded, mine anguish o'er-great\n shall be!\n And here doth he sit, Sir Gawain, whom all men were wont to\n praise, 745\n High standeth his fame, yet dishonour it ruleth, methinks,\n his ways;\n Since avarice to this betrayed him, in greeting my lord he\n slew,\n The kiss once by Judas given, it taught him such guile anew.\n Many thousand hearts hath he wounded--'Twas murder base,\n abhorred,\n And he, upon whom he wrought it, erewhile was my dearest\n lord. 750\n An Sir Gawain would here deny it, true answer our strife\n shall yield,\n Forty days from to-day shall he meet me, and face me on\n battlefield,\n Before Askalon's king and ruler, in the city of Schamfanzon;\n Thus I bid him in honour face me, and for conflict his armour\n don.'\n\n 'And this grace shall he not refuse me, but thither his\n shield shall bear; 755\n And yet further shall he bethink him, by the helmet he\n weareth fair,\n And the life that a knight beseemeth, who two treasures in\n pledge doth hold,\n True shame, and a faith unwavering, and their fame shall be\n new, as old.\n But from shame may Gawain ne'er free him, if a knight of the\n Table Round,\n Whose heroes stand here before me, he thinketh he may be\n found. 760\n For its honour and fame are vanished, if false knight sit its\n board beside--\n Methinks ye have heard mine errand, and ye know I came not to\n chide,\n For here would I not blame, but battle, and death shall my\n guerdon be,\n An it be not a life of honour, that Good Fortune shall hold\n for me!'\n\n Then sad was the king and silent, yet answer at last he gave, 765\n 'Know, Sir Knight, that Gawain is my nephew, and myself would\n the conflict brave\n Ere his bones should lie dishonoured--If Good Fortune by\n Gawain stand\n In strife shalt thou well acknowledge, 'neath the might of\n his strong right hand\n That his body in faith he keepeth, and falsehood afar doth\n hold.\n If another hath done thee evil methinks art thou over-bold, 770\n His shame dost thou speak too loudly, who never hath done\n thee ill--\n If he winneth, perchance, thine homage, and thou ownest him\n guiltless still,\n Yet hast thou in short space spoken such words of a blameless\n knight\n As have sham\u00e8d for aye thine honour, if this folk read the\n thing aright!'\n\n Then upsprang the proud Knight Beaucorps, brother to Gawain\n he, 775\n And he spake in his wrath, 'Wouldst thou fight him? Then\n myself his pledge will be,\n For thou speakest false of Gawain; and know that thy words of\n shame\n Have kindled anew within me fierce wrath's devouring flame.\n An thou speakest not Gawain guiltless of all dishonour, I\n Stand here to fight his battle, and to be his surety. 780\n Think not by thy words of scorning to lower his lofty fame,\n Unstain\u00e8d is Gawain's honour, and thy words are but words of\n shame!'\n\n Then he turned him to his brother, and he spake of true heart\n and free,\n 'Bethink thee now, my brother, of all thou hast done for me,\n Thou hast helped me unto the winning of fame, for thy toil's\n reward 785\n Bid me here to be hostage for thee, and bid me thine honour\n guard.\n If Good Fortune be here my portion, and I win here my meed of\n fame,\n Then _thine_ be the crown of honour, and thy foeman hath\n naught but shame.'\n By his knighthood and love as a brother he besought him right\n earnestly;\n Quoth Gawain, 'Now in sooth, my brother, too wise shall I\n surely be 790\n To hearken to thee, and to grant thee what thou askest of\n right good-will;\n What meaneth this strife, I wot not, and of fighting have had\n my fill,\n Of good-will would I ne'er deny thee what boon thou from me\n shouldst crave,\n Yet shame must I bear for ever if this conflict I fail to\n brave!'\n\n Yet Beaucorps he prayed him straitly--then out spake the\n stranger knight, 795\n 'A man whom I ne'er have heard of now lusteth with me to\n fight!\n I spake not of _him_, and no evil, methinks, hath he done to\n me.\n Strong, gallant, and fair to look on, and faithful and rich\n is he,\n And well might he be my hostage, yet against _him_ no wrath I\n bear--\n My lord and my kinsman was he for whose death I this strife\n declare, 800\n And brothers twain were our fathers, as comrades and kinsmen\n true;\n And were he a crown\u00e8d monarch against whom my sword I drew,\n By my birth might I give him battle, and vengeance of right\n demand,\n Of a royal race, and a princely, was I born in a distant\n land.\n And Askalon is my country, I am Landgrave of Schamfanzon, 805\n Kingrimursel do they call me; if Gawain's fame be not outrun\n No otherwise may he free him, but conflict with me must dare.\n Yet safe-conduct throughout my kingdom, from all save my\n hand, I swear,\n In peace may he ride, and safety, to the field where I\n vengeance claim;\n God keep in His grace those I leave here, save one, and ye\n know _his_ name!' 810\n\n So passed he, the gallant hero, from the plain of Plimiz\u00f6l,\n And e'en as his name was nam\u00e8d, all men knew Kingrimursel,\n For the fame of this knight so valiant was known thro' the\n far lands wide,\n And it seem\u00e8d them well that to Gawain might ill thro' this\n strife betide\n When they thought of the strength and the manhood of this\n knight who rode swift away. 815\n And many must sorely vex them that no honour he won that day;\n Yet full often a message cometh, I myself shall such venture\n know,\n Of such wise, that the guest who bears it, of his host must\n ungreeted go!\n\n From Kondrie they heard the tidings of Parzival's name and\n kin,\n How a queen, she had been his mother, and his sire was an\n Angevin. 820\n And they spake--''Twas at fair Kanvoleis, and the story we\n know full well,\n He served her with deeds of knighthood, and many a joust\n befell,\n And there by his dauntless manhood he won him that lady\n bright;\n And the noble Queen Anflis\u00e9, she taught him, that gallant\n knight,\n Such courtesy as befitted a hero of lineage high; 825\n And no Breton but shall rejoice him, that his son now draweth\n nigh,\n For of him, e'en as of his father, may this tale of a truth\n be told\n That honour is his yoke-fellow, as she was of his sire of\n old.'\n\n Thus joy alike and sorrow came to Arthur's host that day,\n And mingled, the life of the heroes, since the twain they\n must have their way. 830\n Upstood they all as one man, and all with one voice they\n wept,\n And the bravest knights among them within the circle stept,\n And they looked on Gawain and the Waleis where each by the\n other stood,\n And they wove them fair words of comfort to pleasure the\n heroes good.\n\n But Klamid\u00e9 the king bethought him that the loss which should\n be his share 835\n Was greater than that of another, and too sharp was his pain\n to bear,\n And to Parzival he quoth thus, 'If the Grail thee for lord\n must own,\n Yet still would I mourn my sorrow, and of true heart my woe\n make known.\n For the kingdom of Tribalibot, and Kaucasus' golden strand,\n Whatsoe'er shall be writ of riches in Christian or paynim\n land, 840\n Yea, even the Grail and its glory, they had fail\u00e8d the hurt\n to cure\n Which at Pelrap\u00e4r was my portion, or the grief that I here\n endure!\n Ah me! Of all men most wretched am I since thy valiant hand\n Of joy and of blessing robbed me!--See the princess of fair\n Lalande,\n Know thou that this noble lady she keepeth such faith with\n thee, 845\n That no service else she craveth, and none other knight will\n she;\n Yet well might she crown his service who served her for love\n alone!\n And that I am so long her captive, methinks may she well\n bemoan.\n If my joy thou to life wouldst quicken, then give me thine\n aid, I pray,\n And teach her herself to honour in such wise that her love\n repay 850\n In a measure the ill thou didst me, and that which thro' thee\n I lost,\n When the goal of my joy fled from me and my pathway by thee\n was crossed,\n But for thee, I, methinks, had reached it, and if thou art\n foeman true\n Thou wilt help me with this fair maiden, and my gladness\n shall wax anew!'\n\n 'Right gladly will I,' quoth the Waleis, 'if so be she will\n grant my prayer, 855\n For fain would I bring thee comfort, since _mine_ is that\n maiden fair\n For whose sake thou sore didst sorrow, my wife and my queen\n is she,\n Kondwiramur, the fairest of all women on earth that be!'\n Then the heathen Queen of Ianfus, King Arthur, and Guinevere,\n Kunnewaar\u00e9 of Lalande, and Jeschut\u00e9 of Karnant, who these\n words must hear, 860\n Came near with sweet words of comfort--what would ye they\n should do more?\n Kunnewaar\u00e9 they gave to Klamid\u00e9, who yearned for her love so\n sore,\n And he gave her, as her rewarding, himself, his body fair,\n And a queenly crown and golden henceforth on her head she\n bare!\n\n Quoth the heathen unto the Waleis, 'Kondrie a man hath named, 865\n Whom thou as in truth thy brother, rejoicing, might well have\n claimed;\n For far and wide he ruleth in the power of a double crown,\n And alike by land and water men in fear to his hand bow down.\n And Assagog is one kingdom, Zassamank shall the other be,\n Two mighty lands and powerful from fear and from weakness\n free. 870\n And naught shall be like his riches save those the Baruch\n doth own,\n Or those of far Tribalibot, he is worshipped as God alone!\n A marvel his skin to look on, and like unto none his face,\n For 'tis black, and 'tis white, as his parents, who sprang of\n a diverse race.\n Thro' one of his lands I journeyed as hither I took my way, 875\n And full fain had he been my wanderings in a far-off land to\n stay.\n Yet but little his will prevail\u00e8d, tho' I am his near of kin,\n The cousin unto his mother, and _he_ is a mighty king!\n Yet hear thou more of his prowess; his saddle no man may keep\n Who rideth a joust against him, and fame doth he richly reap. 880\n And no gentler knight or truer e'er lay on a mother's breast,\n And falsehood it fleeth from him, and truth in his heart doth\n rest.\n Yea, true and fair in his dealings is Feirefis Angevin,\n And women he serveth duly, tho' he pain thro' his service\n win!'\n\n 'Tho' all men to me were strangers, yet hither I came to know 885\n What ventures of gallant knighthood a Christian land might\n show;\n And of all Heaven's gifts the highest, I ween, shall thy\n portion be,\n And Christendom winneth honour thro' the praise it doth give\n to thee.\n And thine is a noble bearing, and fair is thy form and face,\n And in thee beauty mates with manhood, and strength doth thy\n youth embrace!' 890\n (Both rich and wise was the heathen, and of wisdom she token\n gave,\n In the French tongue her speech was holden.) Then out spake\n the hero brave,\n And he quoth, 'God reward thee, Lady, who thinkest to comfort\n me,\n Yet sorrow it fast doth bind me, and the cause would I tell\n to thee,\n For the shame that has here befallen think not I shall\n lightly bear, 895\n And here many sin against me, who give to my plaint no ear,\n The while I must list their mocking!--No joy shall my portion\n be\n Or long or short be my wanderings, till the Grail once again\n I see!\n For my soul's unrest constrains me, and it driveth me on my\n way,\n Nor so long as my life endureth shall my feet from their\n wanderings stay!' 900\n\n 'If a courteous and knightly bearing but bringeth rewarding\n still\n In shame, and in this world's mocking, then methinks I was\n counselled ill!\n For 'twas Gurnemanz who bade me of questions rash beware,\n And from words and ways unfitting a courteous knight forbear.\n Here standeth full many a hero, I pray ye give counsel true, 905\n By your courtesy and knighthood, that your grace I may win\n anew.\n Here hath judgment been passed upon me with bitter words and\n strong--\n Who withholdeth from me his favour, I deem not he doth me\n wrong;\n If perchance, in the days hereafter, fame and honour my lot\n shall be\n Then according to those my dealings, I pray ye to deal with\n me; 910\n But now must I haste far from ye--An oath have ye sworn me\n here\n While I stood in the strength of mine honour; of that oath do\n I hold ye clear\n Till the day I have won me payment for my fresh joy waxed wan\n and pale;\n And my heart shall be home of sorrow, nor tears to mine eyes\n shall fail,\n For the day that at far Monsalv\u00e4sch my labour I left undone, 915\n And myself from all joy I severed, and woe for my guerdon\n won.\n Ah God! they were fair, those maidens! and ne'er was there\n wonder tale\n That men told, but as naught its marvels to those of the\n wondrous Grail!\n Yet torment so sore, and sighing, are the lot of Its king,\n alas!\n Small good hath my coming done thee, thou hapless Anfortas!' 920\n\n Nor longer the knight might linger, but part they must alway,\n So turned he unto King Arthur, and leave he fain would pray\n Of him, his knights, and ladies, with their favour would he\n depart,\n And none, I ween, but sorrowed that he rode hence sad at\n heart.\n\n Hand in hand King Arthur sware him, if henceforth his land\n should bear 925\n Such woe as Klamid\u00e9 brought him, then the shame he with him\n would share,\n And he spake that full sore it grieved him that crowns and\n kingdoms twain,\n With the riches that were their portion, L\u00e4helein from the\n knight had ta'en.\n And service both true and faithful many sware unto him that\n day,\n Ere yet from the court of King Arthur, sorrow-driven, he\n passed away. 930\n\n Then the fair maid Kunnewaar\u00e9, she took the hero bold,\n And hence by the hand she led him, and in this wise the tale\n is told,\n Sir Gawain he turned and kissed him, and he spake out in\n manly wise\n To the hero strong and gallant: 'Now thou ridest in warlike\n guise,\n And thy feet shall be swift to battle--God guide thee upon\n thy way, 935\n And give me such strength to serve thee as my heart shall be\n fain alway.'\n\n But Parzival cried, 'Woe is me! Who is He, this mighty God?\n Had He power, then methinks our portion had ne'er been this\n shame abhorred!\n Small power shall be His! I served Him from the day I first\n knew His grace,\n Henceforth I renounce His service; doth He hate me, His hate\n I'll face! 940\n And, friend, in thine hour of peril, as thy shield may a\n _wife's_ love stand,\n Dost thou know her for pure and holy, then the thought of her\n guide thine hand,\n And her love from all evil guard thee,--as I wish, may it be\n to thee,\n For little I wot of the future, if thy face I again may see!'\n\n And their parting it brought them sorrow, for comrades in ill\n were they. 945\n With the maiden Kunnewaar\u00e9, to her tent must he take his way.\n And she bade them bring his harness; with her hands so soft\n and white,\n She bound the armour on him who had served her as faithful\n knight.\n And she spake, ''Tis my right to do this, since it is thro'\n thy deed alone\n That Brandigan's gallant monarch now claimeth me as his own. 950\n For otherwise thy valour but bringeth me grief and pain,\n Art thou not against sorrow arm\u00e8d, then thy loss shall\n outweigh my gain!'\n\n For battle decked was his charger, and his sorrow must wake\n to life,\n And fair was the knight to look on; and the harness he bare\n for strife\n Knew never a flaw, but was costly, and as sunshine 'twas\n white and fair, 955\n And radiant with gold and jewels the corslet and coat he\n ware,\n But the helmet alone was lacking--ere he bound it upon his\n head,\n In the self-same hour he kissed her, Kunnewaar\u00e9, the gracious\n maid.\n And this of the twain was told me, that the parting was sore\n to see\n 'Twixt those two who loved each other in all honour and\n loyalty. 960\n\n So hence let him ride, our hero, and what ventures a man may\n tell\n He shall measure them not with the ventures that to Gamuret's\n son befell.\n Yet hear ye awhile of his doings, where he journeyed and\n whence would ride--\n He who loveth not deeds of knighthood, if counsel he take of\n pride\n For awhile will forget his doings--On thee, Kondwiramur, 965\n On thy fair face and lovely body, thy lover thought evermore.\n What ventures he dared in thy service as knightly the Grail\n he sought!\n Nor tarried he in the seeking but onward his way he fought,\n The child of fair Herzeleide, and knew not that he was heir\n To the glories that he rode seeking, to the Grail and Its\n palace fair! 970\n\n Then forth went full many a vassal on a toilsome and weary\n way,\n To gaze on the wondrous castle where in magic fetters lay\n Four hundred gracious maidens, and four queens, right fair to\n see.\n Ch\u00e2teau Merveil was the castle; and no hate shall they earn\n from me,\n I grudge them naught they may win there! No woman rewardeth\n me, 975\n For she to whom I do service, from payment hath set me free!\n\n Then out spake the Greek, Sir Klias, 'Yea, there was I\n overthrown!'\n (And thus in the ears of all men did he frankly the truth\n make known)\n 'For the Turkowit he thrust me from my charger unto my shame;\n And four queens who there lie captive the knight unto me did\n name; 980\n And old are the twain, and the others as yet they shall\n children be,\n And the first maid is called Itonj\u00e8, and the second shall be\n Kondrie,\n And the third she is named Arniv\u00e8, and Sangiv\u00e8 the fourth is\n hight!'\n Then fain to behold the wonders of that castle was many a\n knight,\n Yet their journey brought little profit, for sorrow o'ertook\n them there. 985\n Yet I mourn not o'ermuch for their sorrow; for he who would\n labour bear,\n And strife, for the sake of a woman, for guerdon shall\n gladness know,\n Tho' grief shall be mixed with his gladness, and his joy\n shall be crossed with woe.\n And I know not the which shall be stronger, or if sorrow\n shall joy outweigh,\n But so runneth the world for ever, where Frau Minne she\n holdeth sway! 990\n Now Gawain he must make him ready, and he girded his armour\n on,\n For the strife that afar should wait him, in the kingdom of\n Askalon.\n And sad was many a Breton, and ladies and maidens fair\n Of a true heart did they bemoan them that Gawain must to\n conflict fare.\n And orphaned and reft of glory henceforth was the Table\n Round. 995\n Then Sir Gawain he well bethought him, since victor he would\n be found,\n And he bade the merchants bring him good shields both hard\n and light,\n And little he recked their colour so they served his need in\n fight.\n On laden mules they brought them, and methinks that they sold\n them dear;\n And three did he take as his portion--and the hero he chose\n him here 1000\n Seven chargers well fit for battle, and he chose him as\n friends so good\n Twelve spears of sharp steel of Angram, and the hilts were of\n hollow wood.\n They were reeds grown in heathen marshlands, Oraste Gentesein\n their name.\n Then Gawain he prayed leave, and rode forth, dauntless, to\n seek him fame,\n And with royal hand, for his journey, King Arthur he gave the\n knight 1005\n Red gold, and rich store of silver, and jewels gleaming\n bright,\n And heavy the weight of his treasure--Then the hero rode\n swift away,\n And I ween 'twas towards sore peril that his pathway must\n lead that day.\n\n Then she sailed to her distant kingdom, the young Queen\n Ekuba,\n I speak of the heathen princess; and they scattered to lands\n afar 1010\n The folk who awhile abode there, on the fair plain of\n Plimiz\u00f6l;\n And King Arthur and all his courtiers they gat them to\n Karid\u00f6l.\n Yet first they prayed leave, Klamid\u00e9 and Kunnewaar\u00e9 of fair\n Lalande,\n And Duke Orilus and his lady, Jeschut\u00e9 of Karnant.\n Yet till the third day with Klamid\u00e9 in the plain did the\n twain abide, 1015\n And the marriage-feast was holden ere yet from the place they\n ride.\n Yet small was the pomp; in his kingdom, I ween, should it\n greater be.\n And free was his hand and knightly, and he dealt right\n courteously,\n For many a knight at his bidding henceforth must his man\n remain,\n And many a wandering minstrel did he gather within his train, 1020\n And he led them into his kingdom, and in honour, rich gifts,\n and land\n He gave unto them, nor churlish would any refuse his hand.\n\n Now Duke Orilus and Jeschut\u00e9, to Brandigan the twain would\n fare\n For the love that unto Klamid\u00e9 and Kunnewaar\u00e9 they bare.\n For they thought them that fitting honour to their sister\n they scarce had done 1025\n Till as queen they had seen her crown\u00e8d, and set on the royal\n throne.\n Now I know well if wise the woman, and true of heart she be,\n Who seeth this story written, of a sooth will she own to me\n That better I speak of women than I spake of _one_ erewhile;\n For true was fair Belakan\u00e9, and free from all thought of\n guile, 1030\n For dead was her love, yet lifeless he still o'er her heart\n did reign.\n And a dream filled fair Herzeleide with torment of fear and\n pain.\n And Queen Guinevere bewailed her full sorely for Ither's\n death,\n (And little I grudge her mourning, for no truer knight e'er\n drew breath).\n And I wot when King Lac's fair daughter rode forth such a\n shameful ride 1035\n Then sorely I mourned the sorrow that, guiltless, she must\n abide.\n Sore smitten was Kunnewaar\u00e9, and torn was her golden hair;\n Now the twain they are well aveng\u00e8d, and glory for shame they\n bear!\n\n And he who doth tell this story, he weaveth his ventures\n fair,\n And he knoweth right well to rhyme them, in lines that break\n and pair. 1040\n And fain were I more to tell ye, an she give to my words good\n heed\n Who treadeth with feet far smaller than the feet that shall\n spur my steed!\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VII\n\nOBILOT\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nThe poet will now for a while recount the adventures of Gawain;\n whom\nmany have held to be as valiant a knight as Parzival.\n\nBook VII. tells how Gawain fell in with the army of King Meljanz\n of\nLys, who would fain avenge himself on Duke Lippaut, whose\n daughter had\nscorned his love. How Gawain came to the beleaguered city of\n Beaurosch;\nhow Obie scorned him; and how Obilot besought him to be her\n knight. How\nthe heroes fought before the walls of Beaurosch, and of the\n valiant\ndeeds of Gawain and the Red Knight. How Gawain took Meljanz of\n Lys\ncaptive; how Obilot made peace betwixt Obie and Meljanz, and how\n Gawain\nrode forth from Beaurosch.\n\n BOOK VII\n\n OBILOT\n\n Awhile shall this venture follow the knight, who to fly was\n fain\n From shame, nor with guile had dealings, that hero bold,\n Gawain.\n For many a one hath held him for as brave, yea, for braver\n knight\n Than Parzival, who the hero of this wonder-tale is hight.\n Yet he who his friend would ever with his words to the\n heavens upraise 5\n Is slow to speak well of another, or to yield him his meed of\n praise;\n But him shall the people follow whose praises with truth are\n wrought,\n Else whatever he speak, or hath spoken, shall ne'er under\n roof be brought.\n Who shall shelter the word of wisdom if wise men their aid\n withhold?\n But a song that is woven of falsehood is best left in the\n outer cold, 10\n Homeless, upon the snowdrift, that the mouth may wax chill\n and sore\n That hath spread for truth the story--such rewarding hath God\n in store\n As all true folk must wish him whose guerdon in toil is\n told--\n Who is swift to such deeds, I wot me, but blame for reward\n shall hold,\n And if good men and true shall praise him, then folly doth\n rule their mind; 15\n He will flee such who true shame knoweth, and in knighthood\n his rule would find.\n\n And true of heart was Sir Gawain, for courage as sentinel\n Had guarded his fame, nor shadow of cowardice across it fell.\n But his heart in the field of battle was strong as a mighty\n tower,\n Steadfast in sharpest conflict, yet foremost in danger's\n hour. 20\n And friend and foe bare witness to the fame of his\n battle-cry;\n Fain was Kingrimursel to rob him of his glory thus waxen\n high--\n Now far from the court of King Arthur for many a weary day,\n I know not their tale to tell ye, did the valiant Gawain\n stray;\n So rode he, the gallant hero, from out of a woodland shade, 25\n And his folk they were close behind him as he wended adown\n the glade,\n And there on a hill before him he was 'ware of a goodly sight\n That would teach him fear, yet fresh courage it brought to\n the gallant knight.\n\n For the hero he saw full clearly how a host on their way\n would fare\n With pomp of warlike pageant, and banners borne high in air. 30\n Then he thought, 'I too far have journeyed this host in the\n wood to wait'--\n And he bade them prepare the charger that was Orilus' gift of\n late,\n And red were its ears, and Gringuljet, I think me, they\n called its name,\n Without a prayer he won it--The steed from Monsalv\u00e4sch came,\n L\u00e4helein, in a joust he took it, when lifeless its rider fell 35\n By the Lake of Brimbane--Hereafter Trevrezent would the story\n tell.\n\n Thought Gawain, 'He who cowardly flieth ere the foe on his\n track shall be\n Flieth all too soon for his honour--this host would I nearer\n see\n Whatever may then befall me; they have seen me ere this I\n trow,\n And, for aught that may chance unto me, wit shall counsel me\n well enow.' 40\n Then down he sprang from his charger as one who his goal hath\n found.\n Countless I ween the army that in troops was toward him\n bound,\n And he saw many robes fair fashioned, and shields with their\n blazon bright,\n But he knew them not, nor the banners that danced on the\n breezes light.\n\n 'Strange shall I be to this army,' quoth Gawain, 'strange are\n they to me, 45\n If they count this to me for evil then a joust shall they\n surely see,\n And a spear will I break with these heroes ere yet on my way\n I ride!'\n Gringuljet too was ready when his master would strife abide,\n In many an hour of peril he the hero to joust had borne,\n As Gawain had well bethought him when the steed he would ride\n that morn. 50\n\n There Gawain saw many a helmet, costly and decked full fair,\n And new spears white, unsplintered, in sheaves to their goal\n they bare;\n To the pages hands were given those blazoned with colours\n clear,\n And the badge might ye read on the pennons that floated from\n every spear.\n\n And the son of King Lot, Sir Gawain, he saw there a crowded\n throng, 55\n There were mules with harness laden; heavy wagons with horses\n strong,\n And they hasted them, fain for shelter; and behind them a\n wondrous store\n Of goods, borne by travelling merchants as was ever the way\n of yore.\n And women were there in plenty, and of knightly girdle bright\n The twelfth might some wear, the payment and pledge of love\n holden light. 60\n Not _queens_ were they hight, I think me, _Vivandier\u00e8s_ was\n their name--\n And young and old behind them a rabble onward came,\n And they ran till their limbs were weary; and a rope had fit\n guerdon been\n For many who swelled this army, and dishonoured true folk I\n ween!\n\n So they rode, and they ran, that army, and Gawain stood\n beside the way, 65\n So it chanced they who saw the hero deemed him part of their\n host that day.\n And never this side of the water, or in lands that beyond it\n lie,\n So gallant a host had journeyed, great their strength and\n their courage high.\n\n And close on their track there followed, spurring his steed\n amain,\n A squire of noble bearing, with a led horse beside his rein; 70\n And a fair new shield he carried, and ever his spurs he\n plied,\n Nor thought to spare his charger, but swift to the strife\n would ride,\n And his raiment was fairly fashioned--Then Gawain his pathway\n crossed,\n And, greeting, he asked him tidings, who was lord of this\n goodly host?\n\n Quoth the squire, 'Sir Knight thou mockest, were I lacking in\n courtesy, 75\n And have chastisement earned, then I pray thee that my\n penance shall other be\n That shall wound not so sore mine honour--For God's sake lay\n thine hate aside,\n Methinks thou right well shalt know them, these knights that\n before us ride,\n Why askest thou me? Of a surety to each other shall ye be\n known\n As well, nay, a thousand times better, than I unto thee had\n shown!' 80\n\n Then many an oath he sware him, he knew not the race or name\n Of the folk who went there before him, 'My journey hath won\n but shame,\n Since in truth must I make confession that never before\n to-day\n Mine eyes have beheld these heroes, tho' mine aid men right\n oft would pray!\n Then the squire he quoth unto Gawain, 'Sir Knight, _mine_ the\n wrong hath been, 85\n Thy question I should have answered, here my wisdom hath\n failed I ween!\n Now pass judgment on me, I pray thee, of thy friendly heart\n and true,\n Hereafter I'll gladly tell thee, first must I my folly rue.'\n 'Then, lad, by thy words of repentance, sure token of\n courtesy,\n The name of this gallant army I prithee to tell to me!' 90\n\n 'Sir Knight, he who rides before us, and no man his way doth\n bar,\n Is King Poidikonjonz; and beside him Duke Astor he rides to\n war,\n Of Lanveronz is he ruler--and there rideth beside the twain\n One whose roughness and ways discourteous Love's payment have\n sought in vain.\n He beareth the brand unknightly, Meljakanz that prince is\n hight, 95\n He wooeth nor wife nor maiden, but their love will he take\n with might,\n And, methinks, men for that should slay him--Poidikonjonz'\n son is he,\n And here will he fight with his army, and he fighteth right\n valiantly,\n And dauntless his heart; but such manhood it profiteth\n naught, I trow--\n An ye threaten, perchance, her sucklings, she fighteth, the\n mother sow! 100\n And never a voice shall praise him whose strength lacketh\n knighthood fair,\n And methinks to the truth of my speaking many men will their\n witness bear.'\n\n 'Now hearken to greater marvels, and mark thou the words I\n say,\n One with a mighty army doth follow upon our way\n Whom folly doth drive to battle--The young King Meljanz of\n Lys, 105\n Scorned love wrought in him fierce anger, and pride vexed him\n needlessly,'\n\n And courteous he spake to Sir Gawain. 'What I saw, I Sir\n Knight will say:\n The sire of the young King Meljanz, as he on his death-bed\n lay,\n He bade them draw near unto him, the princes from out his\n land,\n For his gallant life lay forfeit, a pledge in stern Death's\n cold hand, 110\n And to Death he needs must yield him--In grief o'er his\n coming end\n To the faith of the princes round him his son would the king\n commend,\n And he chose out one from among them, the chief of his\n vassals true,\n And his faith was proved and steadfast, and from false ways\n afar he flew.\n And he gave the lad to his keeping, and he quoth, 'Now, with\n hand and heart, 115\n True service henceforward show him, bid him aye act a kingly\n part\n To vassal alike and stranger; bid him list to the poor man's\n prayer,\n And freely give of his substance.' Thus he left him unto his\n care.'\n\n 'And Prince Lippaut did as his monarch, dying, of him did\n pray,\n Nor failed in aught, but true service he did to his lord\n alway. 120\n And he took the lad to his castle, and the prince had two\n children fair,\n He loved them well, and I think me, e'en to-day they his love\n shall share.\n One maiden in naught was lacking, save in age, that a knight\n might crave\n Her love for his love's rewarding; Obie was the name they\n gave\n To this maid; Obilot, her sister; and the elder maid, I ween, 125\n Hath wrought ill, for she, and none other, the cause of this\n strife hath been.'\n\n 'It so fell that one day the young king for his service\n reward would pray,\n 'Twas an ill thought, she quoth, and she asked him why his\n wits he had cast away?\n And she spake unto him, 'I think me, e'en if thou so old\n shouldst be,\n That 'neath shield thou the hours hadst counted that in\n worthy strife might flee; 130\n With helmet on head hadst mingled in knightly venture bold,\n Till the tale of thy days, if reckoned, full five years more\n had told;\n If there thou hadst won thee honour, and hither hadst come\n again,\n And bowed thyself to my bidding, if a _yea_ I to speak were\n fain\n To that which thou now desirest, all too soon should I grant\n thy prayer-- 135\n Thou art dear, I will ne'er deny it, as Galoes to Annora\n fair;\n For death did she seek, and I think me that her seeking was\n not in vain,\n When she lost him, her well belov\u00e8d, and her knight in a\n joust was slain.'\n\n 'Now sore doth it grieve me, Lady, that love worketh so in\n thee,\n That thine anger with words of scorning thus venteth itself\n on me. 140\n For true service,' quoth he, 'winneth favour, an love thus be\n well approved;\n O'er-weening thy pride thus to taunt me that madness my\n speech had moved!\n Small wisdom in this thou showest, 'twere better thou hadst\n bethought,\n How thy father is but my vassal, and save of my grace hath\n naught!'\n\n 'For that which he holds can he serve thee,' she spake,\n 'higher is my aim, 145\n For fief will I hold of no man, none shall me as vassal\n claim!\n And so high do I prize my freedom that no crown it shall be\n too high,\n That an earthly head e'er weareth!' Then he spake out\n wrathfully,\n 'Methinks thou hast been well tutored, that thy pride shall\n have waxed so great,\n An thy father such counsel gave thee, then penance on wrong\n shall wait-- 150\n 'Tis meet that for this I arm me, some wounded shall be, some\n slain,\n An they call it or war, or Tourney, many spears shall they\n break in twain!'\n\n 'Thus in anger he left the maiden, and all did his wrath\n bemoan,\n Yea, full sore it grieved the lady--Her father must well\n atone,\n Tho' he sware as his lord reproached him, guiltless of wrong\n was he, 155\n (Or straight were his ways or crooked, his peers should his\n judges be,\n All the princes in court assembled)--that he to this strait\n was brought\n Thro' no sin of his own--And eager the prince from his lord\n besought\n His favour and love as of old time, but in vain he for peace\n might pray,\n For anger it ruled the monarch, and his gladness was reft\n away.' 160\n\n 'Tho' hasty the prince they counselled a prisoner to make his\n lord,\n His host had he been, and such treason of a true knight were\n aye abhorred.\n Farewell, the king ne'er bade him, but he rode forth in wrath\n and pride,\n And his pages, the sons of princes, aloud in their sorrow\n cried.\n Long time with the king they dwelt there, and goodwill they\n to Lippaut bare, 165\n For in truth did he aye entreat them, nor failed them in\n knighthood fair.\n 'Tis my master alone who is wrathful, tho' he, too, Lippaut's\n care might claim,\n A Frenchman, the lord of Beauvais, Lisavander they call his\n name.\n And the one alike and the other, ere a knight's shield they\n thought to bear,\n Must renounce the prince's service, and war against Lippaut\n swear; 170\n And some shall be prince's children, and some not so highly\n born,\n Whom the king to the ranks of knighthood hath lifted, I ween,\n this morn.'\n\n 'And one who in strife is skilful and bold doth the vanguard\n lead,\n Poidikonjonz of Gros, and with him hath he many an armed\n steed.\n And Meljanz is son to his brother; and haughty of heart the\n twain, 175\n The young as the old, I think me discourtesy here doth\n reign!'\n\n 'Thus these two kings, moved by anger, will forth unto\n Beaurosch ride,\n Where with toil he would win the favour that the maid to his\n love denied.\n And there with thrust and onslaught shall be broken many a\n spear;\n Yet so well is Beaurosch guarded that, tho' twenty hosts were\n here, 180\n Each one than our army greater, it ne'er to our force would\n yield!\n The rear-guard knoweth naught of my journey, from the others\n I stole this shield,\n Lest perchance my lord should find here a joust, and with\n onslaught fierce\n And clash of the meeting chargers the spear thro' his shield\n might pierce.'\n\n Then the squire he looked behind him, and his lord on his\n track did ride, 185\n Three steeds and twelve spears unsplintered sped onward his\n rein beside.\n And I ween that his haste betrayed him, he would fain in the\n foremost flight\n The first joust for his own have challenged, so read I the\n tale aright.\n\n Then the squire he spake unto Gawain, 'Thy leave I, Sir\n Knight, would pray,'\n And he turned him again to his master--What should Gawain do\n alway 190\n Save see how this venture ended? Yet awhile he doubted sore,\n And he thought, 'If I look on conflict, and fight not as aye\n of yore,\n Then methinks shall my fame be tarnished; and yet if I here\n delay,\n E'en tho' it may be for battle, then in sooth is it reft\n away,\n My meed of worldly honour--To fight not, methinks, were best, 195\n First must I fulfil my challenge.' But afresh doubt vexed his\n breast,\n For he deemed that his warlike errand but little might brook\n delay,\n Yet how could he take his journey thro' this army that barred\n his way?\n And he quoth, 'Now God give me counsel, and strengthen my\n manhood's might,'\n And on to the town of Beaurosch rode Gawain as gallant\n knight. 200\n\n So before him lay Burg and city; fairer dwelling no man might\n know;\n Already it shone before him with its turrets in goodly row,\n The crown of all other castles--Before it the army lay\n On the plain 'neath the walls of the city; thro' the lines\n must he take his way,\n And right well he marked, Sir Gawain, many tents in a goodly\n ring, 205\n And strange banners waved beside them, which strange folk to\n the fight would bring;\n And doubt in his heart found dwelling, by eagerness cleft in\n twain--\n Then straight thro' the host encamped there rode the gallant\n knight Gawain.\n\n One tent-rope it touched the other, tho' the camp it was long\n and wide,\n And he saw how they lay, and he noted the task which each one\n there plied. 210\n Quoth they, '_Soit bien venu_' then '_Gramercy_' the knight\n for an answer gave--\n And troops from Semblidag lay there, hired soldiers both\n strong and brave;\n And closely they camped beside them, the archers from\n Kahetei--\n And strangers are oft unfriendly; As King Lot's son he passed\n them by\n No man of them all bade him tarry, so he rode o'er the grassy\n plain, 215\n And toward the beleaguered city Sir Gawain he turned his\n rein.\n\n Then he thought,'Must I e'en as a smuggler, in hiding-place\n bestow\n My goods, then the town is safer, methinks, than the plain\n below,\n Nor on gain shall my thoughts be turn\u00e8d, for this be my care\n alone,\n An Fate will so far befriend me, to guard that which is mine\n own!' 220\n To the city gate he rode thus, and he found that which worked\n him woe,\n None too costly the Burgers deemed it, but their portals\n against the foe\n Had they walled up; well armed the watch-towers, and he saw\n on each rampart high\n Archers, with cross-bow bended that their bolts 'gainst the\n foe might fly.\n For defence and defiance ready on the battlements they stood. 225\n Up the hillside toward the castle he turned him, that hero\n good.\n\n Tho' little he knew the pathway to the Burg came the gallant\n knight,\n And straightway his eyes beheld them, full many a lady\n bright,\n For the prince's wife had come there, from the hall abroad to\n gaze,\n And daughters twain stood by her, bright as the sunlight's\n rays. 230\n\n Then they spake in such wise as Gawain right well their words\n might hear--\n 'Now, who is this,' quoth the mother, 'who doth to our aid\n draw near?\n Where goes he with pack-horse laden?' Spake the elder\n daughter fair,\n 'Nay, mother, 'tis but a merchant!' 'Yet he many a shield\n doth bear.'\n 'Such shall oft be the wont of merchants!' Then the younger\n sister spake, 235\n 'Thou sayest the thing that is not, and shame to thyself\n shouldst take,\n For surely he is no merchant! My knight shall he be\n straightway,\n If his service here craveth guerdon, such debt I were fain to\n pay!'\n\n Now the squires they saw how a linden and olive-trees stood\n fair\n Beneath the walls, and they thought them how a welcome shade\n were there. 240\n What would ye more? Then King Lot's son he straight to the\n ground did spring\n Where the shade was best, and his servants, they swift to\n their lord would bring\n A cushion fair and a mattress, and the proud knight he sat\n thereon;\n From on high gazed a crowd of ladies--Then, as he his rest\n had won,\n They lift adown from the pack-steeds the chests, and the\n harness bright, 245\n And beneath the trees they laid them who rode here with the\n gallant knight.\n\n Spake the elder duchess, 'Daughter, what merchant think thou\n would fare\n In such royal guise? Thou wrongest his rank who now sitteth\n there!'\n Then out quoth the younger sister, 'Discourteous she aye\n shall be,\n With pride and scorn did she treat him, our king, Meljanz of\n Lys, 250\n When her love he besought--unseemly such words and ways I\n trow!'\n Then spake Obie, for anger moved her, 'I see naught in that\n man below!\n There sitteth, methinks, a merchant, and he driveth a goodly\n trade;\n He would that they well were guarded, the chests that his\n steeds do lade,\n And like to a brooding dragon, O foolish sister mine, 255\n O'er his treasure-chest he watcheth, this gallant _knight_ of\n thine!'\n\n And each word that they spake, the maidens, fell clear on\n Gawain's ear--\n Leave we their speech, of the city and its peril ye now must\n hear.\n\n A water that ships had sailed on 'neath a bridge of stone\n flowed past,\n And the land here was clear of foemen, nor its flood held\n their armies fast. 260\n A marshal came swiftly riding 'fore the bridge on the plain\n so wide,\n And a goodly camp had he marked out ere his lord to the field\n should ride.\n And he came e'en as they were ready, and with him came many\n more--\n I will tell ye their names who, for truth's sake, and the\n love they to Lippaut bore,\n Here rode to his aid--His brother, men called him Duke\n Marangliess, 265\n And two swift knights came with him from the land of\n Brevigariez;\n King Schirniel, the gallant monarch who ware crown in\n Lirivoin,\n And with him there rode his brother, the monarch of\n Avendroin.\n\n Now when the Burgers saw well that help drew anigh their wall\n They deemed that an evil counsel which aforetime seemed good\n to all-- 270\n Then out spake their lord, Duke Lippaut, 'Alas! for the\n woeful hour\n That Beaurosch must seal its portals against the foeman's\n power!\n Yet if I against my master in open field had fought,\n Then mine honour, methinks, were smitten, and my courtesy\n brought to naught.\n His grace would beseem me better, and gladden me more, I\n ween, 275\n Than the hatred which now he showeth, of such hate have I\n guiltless been.\n A joust that his hand had smitten but little would grace _my_\n shield.\n Or if _his_ of the sword bare token that I 'gainst my king\n would wield.\n Methinketh, tho' wise the woman, she were shamed an she\n praised such deed--\n Yea, say that my king were captive in my tower, I my lord had\n freed, 280\n And myself had become his prisoner--what had pleased him best\n to do\n Of evil, I'ld gladly bear it, as befitted a vassal true,\n And I thank my God of a true heart that I here, a free man,\n stand,\n Tho' spurred by love and anger my king doth invade my land!'\n Then he quoth again to the Burgers, 'Now may wisdom with ye\n be found 285\n To counsel me in the perils that compass my path around.'\n\n Then many a wise man answered, 'Thou hast wrought in no wise\n amiss,\n Might innocence win its guerdon, then thou never hadst come\n to this.'\n Then all with one voice they counselled that the gates be\n opened wide,\n And that he should bid their bravest forthwith unto jousting\n ride. 290\n And they quoth, 'So to fight were better than thus our\n ramparts high\n To defend 'gainst our king, and the armies twofold that\n around us lie,\n For the most part they are but children who ride with their\n king to-day,\n And 'twere easy to take a hostage, so wrath oft is turned\n away.\n And the king he shall be so minded, that if here knightly\n deeds be done, 295\n He shall free us perchance from our peril, and the ending of\n wrath be won.\n Far better in field to seek them than forth from our walls be\n brought\n As their captives--Nay, e'en to their tent-ropes, methinks,\n we with ease had fought\n Were it not for the King Poidikonjonz, 'neath his banner the\n bravest fight;\n And there is our greatest peril, the captive Breton knights, 300\n Duke Astor it is who leads them, and foremost in strife are\n they;\n And the king's son is there, Meljakanz; higher his fame\n to-day\n Had Gurnemanz been his teacher! Yet never he feareth fight;\n But help have we found against them,'--Now their rede have ye\n heard aright.\n\n Then the prince he did as they counselled, the portals he\n open brake, 305\n And the Burgers who ne'er lacked courage their way to the\n field would take.\n Here one jousted, and there another; and the armies they made\n their way\n With high courage towards the city, right good was their\n vesper-play.\n On both sides the troops were countless; manifold was their\n battle-cry,\n And Scotch and Welsh might ye hearken, for in sooth here I\n tell no lie. 310\n And stern were their deeds of knighthood as fitting so stern\n a fight,\n And bravely those heroes battled, till weary each gallant\n knight.\n\n And they were little more than children who with the king's\n army came,\n And they took them as pledge in a corn-field, who thought\n there to win them fame,\n And he who had ne'er won token of love from a lady fair, 315\n Might never more costly raiment on his youthful body bear;\n Of Meljanz the venture telleth that in harness bright he\n rode,\n On high flamed his youthful courage--A charger the king\n bestrode\n That Meljakanz won when in jousting his foe from his steed he\n swung,\n 'Twas Kay, and so high he smote him that aloft from a bough\n he hung; 320\n There Meljakanz won the charger that Meljanz would ride that\n day,\n And foremost of all the heroes he strove in the knightly\n fray.\n And Obie beheld his jousting, and watched him with eager eye,\n As she stood there among her maidens, and gazed from the\n palace high.\n\n So quoth she unto her sister, 'See, sister mine, thy knight 325\n And _mine_, unlike do they bear them, for thine hath no will\n to fight,\n He thinketh for sure this city and castle we needs must lose.\n An here we would seek defenders, other champion we needs must\n choose!'\n And the younger must bear her mocking--then she spake, 'Yet I\n trust my knight,\n He hath time yet to show his courage, and thy mockery put to\n flight. 330\n For here shall he do me service, and his gladness shall be my\n care,\n An thou holdest him for a merchant, with me shall he trade\n full fair!'\n\n As with words they strove, the maidens, he hearkened, the\n Knight Gawain,\n Yet he made as tho' he heard not as he sat on the grassy\n plain.\n And if knightly soul should hearken, nor feel in the hearing\n shame, 335\n 'Twould but be that death had freed him from burden of praise\n or blame.\n\n Now still lay the mighty army that Poidikonjonz had led,\n Save one gallant youth with his vassals, who swift to the\n combat sped,\n And Lanveronz was his dukedom--Here came Poidikonjonz the\n king,\n And the old man wise one and other again to the camp would\n bring, 340\n For the vesper-play was ended--In sooth had they fought right\n well,\n And for love of many a maiden full many a deed befell.\n\n Then out spake the King Poidikonjonz to Lanveronz' gallant\n knight,\n ''Twere fitting to wait for thy leader, an thou lusted for\n fame to fight.\n Dost think thou hast borne thee bravely? See the brave Knight\n Lahduman, 345\n And here is my son Meljakanz,--Came these two in the van,\n And I myself, then, I think me, that a fair fight thou sure\n shouldst see\n Wert thou learn\u00e8d enow in combat to know what a fight should\n be!\n I come not again from this city till of strife we have had\n our fill,\n Or man and woman yield them as prisoners to my will!' 350\n\n Quoth Duke Astor, 'The king, thy nephew, O sire fought before\n the gate\n With his army of Lys--Should thine army here slumber\n o'er-long and late\n The while these others battled? Say when didst thou teach\n such lore?\n Must I slumber while others battle then I'll slumber as ne'er\n of yore!\n Yet believe me, had I not been there then the Burgers had won\n them fame, 355\n And a fair prize their hand had taken--I have guarded thee\n here from shame;\n In God's Name be no longer wrathful! Such valour thy folk\n have shown,\n They won more than they lost,--I think me fair Obie the same\n will own!'\n\n Yet Poidikonjonz was wrathful with his nephew, Meljanz the\n king,\n Tho' of many a joust the token the young knight from the\n field must bring, 360\n And youthful fame ne'er mourneth such pledge of strife, I\n ween--\n Now hear ye again of the maiden who the cause of this strife\n had been.\n\n Hate enow did she bear to Gawain who was guiltless of ill\n intent,\n And shame would she bring upon him--A servant the maiden sent\n Below, to Gawain as he sat there, 'Now ask thou, without\n delay, 365\n If his steeds be for sale--In his coffers, perchance, he doth\n bear alway\n Goodly raiment that we may purchase; say thou if it so shall\n be,\n Then we ladies above in the castle will buy of him readily.'\n\n So the serving man went, and his greeting was wrath, for Sir\n Gawain's eye\n Taught fear to his heart, and in terror the lad from his face\n would fly, 370\n And he asked not, nor gave the message his lady had bid him\n bear.\n Nor Gawain held his peace, 'Thou rascal, from hence shalt\n thou swiftly fare,\n For many a blow will I give thee if again thou dost dare draw\n near!'\n Then the lad hied him back to his lady; what she did shall ye\n straightway hear:\n\n For she bade one speak to the Burg-grave, Scherules they\n called his name, 375\n Saying, 'This shall he do at my bidding for the sake of his\n manly fame;\n 'Neath the olive-trees by the Burg-moat stand seven steeds, I\n trow,\n In them shall he find his guerdon, and riches beside enow.\n A merchant will here deal falsely--I pray he prevent such\n deed.\n I trust in his hand; none shall blame him, if the goods he\n doth hold for meed.' 380\n\n The squire went below as she bade him, and his lady's plaint\n he bare;\n 'From knavery must we guard us,' quoth Scherules, 'I forth\n will fare.'\n So he rode where Gawain was seated whose courage might never\n fail,\n And he found there all weakness lacking, high heart that for\n naught would quail,\n And a face so fair to look on--Scherules he saw him well, 385\n And his arms and hands so skilful that a knightly tale might\n tell.\n And he spake, 'Thou art here a stranger, Sir Knight, sure\n good wit we need\n Since here thou hast found no lodging; as sin shalt thou\n count such deed.\n I will now myself be marshal, folk and goods, all I call mine\n own\n That freely shall do thee service; nor host to his guest hath\n shown 390\n Such favour as I would show thee.' 'Thy favour,' quoth Knight\n Gawain,\n 'As yet shall be undeserv\u00e8d, yet to follow thee am I fain.'\n\n Then Scherules, of honour worthy, he spake of a true heart\n free,\n 'Since the office hath fallen to me, thy guardian 'gainst\n loss I'll be,\n If the outer host would rob thee, thou shalt call to thine\n aid mine hand,' 395\n Then, smiling, he spake to the servants whom he saw round\n their master stand,\n 'Now load ye again your harness that never a piece shall\n fail,\n For hence must we ride, and shelter shall ye find in the\n lower vale.'\n\n With the Burg-grave he rode, Sir Gawain, nor Obie her wrong\n would own,\n But she sent a minstrel maiden whom her father right well had\n known, 400\n And she bade her bear the tidings, a false coiner had passed\n that way,\n 'And goodly and rich is his lading; by his knighthood my\n father pray,\n Since many a hireling serves him for steed, and garb, and\n gold,\n That he here let them take their payment, 'twere enow, were\n they sevenfold.'\n\n To the prince did she tell, the minstrel, all that his\n daughter said-- 405\n Now to win so rich a booty that his hirelings may be well\n paid,\n The need right well he knoweth who hath ridden forth to war,\n And Lippaut, the prince so faithful, by his soldiers was\n pressed full sore--\n Then he thought, 'I must win this treasure or by love or by\n force to-day.'\n And swiftly he rode; but Scherules, he met him upon his way, 410\n 'Now whither dost ride so swiftly?' 'A knave would I here\n pursue,\n A false coiner is he, I think me, if the tale I have heard be\n true!\n Now guiltless in sooth was Gawain, 'twas but thro' his steeds\n and gold\n That suspicion on him had lighted--Then loud laughed the\n Burg-grave bold,\n And he quoth, 'Nay, sire, they misled thee, they lied who\n thus told the tale 415\n Were it wife, or man, or maiden--Nor knighthood my guest\n shall fail,\n Far otherwise shalt thou judge him, no die he methinks shall\n hold;\n Ne'er bare he the purse of the changer, if the tale shall\n aright be told.\n Look thou on his mien, and hearken his word, in my house is\n he,\n An knighthood aright thou readest then thou knighthood in him\n shalt see, 420\n And ne'er was he bold in falsehood--Whoever hath done him\n wrong,\n An my child it were, or my father; whose wrath waxeth fierce\n and strong,\n An my kinsman it be, or my brother, then the rudder of strife\n shall turn\n 'Gainst myself, for I will defend him from the wrong that he\n ne'er did earn,\n If I with thy will may do so. The knight's garb would I\n gladly change 425\n For the hermit's robe of sackcloth, and afar thro' the wide\n world range\n In a land where none may know me, than here thou shouldst\n reap thee shame!\n Methinks it would better fit thee to welcome such guests as\n came,\n Who have heard the tale of thy sorrow, than to rob them of\n goods and gold;\n 'Twould better beseem my master as treason such deed to\n hold!' 430\n\n The prince spake, 'I fain would see him.' 'Methinks 'twill\n not harm my guest.'\n So he rode where he looked on Gawain, and two eyes and a\n heart confessed\n (The eyes and the heart of Lippaut) that the stranger was\n fair to see,\n And knighthood and manly virtue the mate to his mien should\n be.\n\n Whosoe'er, by true love constrain\u00e8d, hath felt of true love\n the pain, 435\n Then his heart, as right well ye know it, doth forfeit to\n Love remain,\n And so doth she change and rule it that no mouth can the\n wonder speak,\n Be it heart of man or of maiden on which she her will would\n wreak,\n And the wise doth she bend to folly. Now the twain they were\n lovers true,\n King Meljanz and maiden Obie--His anger ye needs must rue, 440\n Since in wrath he had ridden from her; of sorrow such load\n she bare\n That her spirit was moved to anger unfitting a maiden fair.\n And, guiltless, must Gawain suffer, and others must feel her\n pain;\n She had womanly ways forsaken when she gave to her wrath the\n rein.\n Whene'er she beheld the hero as a thorn was he to her sight, 445\n For her heart was fain that Meljanz be held for the bravest\n knight,\n And she thought, 'Doth he bring me sorrow, then sorrow I'll\n gladly bear,\n O'er all the world do I love him, my hero, so young and fair,\n And my heart for his love aye yearneth.' Oft anger from love\n doth grow,\n Nor blame ye o'er-much the maiden if her love she by wrath\n would show. 450\n\n Now list how he spake, her father, as he looked on the Knight\n Gawain\n And bade him a kindly welcome--In this wise he spake again,\n 'Sir Knight, it may be that thy coming the dawn of our bliss\n hath been;\n Thro' many a land have I journeyed, but no face have I ever\n seen\n So fair to mine eyes as thy face. In this our day of grief 455\n Thy coming shall bring us comfort, thro' thee may we find\n relief.'\n Then he prayed him take part in the conflict--'If harness\n shall lack to thee\n All thou needest will I prepare thee, so here thou wilt fight\n for me.'\n\n Then out quoth the gallant Gawain, 'That would I of right\n goodwill,\n I am strong, and well armed for battle, yet from strife must\n I hold me still, 460\n Nor fight till the hour appointed; or else would I gladly\n fare\n As thou farest, the fate of battle with thee were I fain to\n share.\n But now must I needs forego it, for 'tis fitting I first\n should fight\n With the foeman to whom I pledged me on mine honour as\n faithful knight.\n By the favour I claim from all true knights my fame must I\n there defend 465\n Or die on the field--To this conflict, Sir Knight, I my way\n would wend!'\n\n Then a grief were his words to Lippaut, and he quoth, 'By thy\n knightly fame,\n And thy courtesy, do thou hear me, for free shall I be from\n blame.\n Two daughters have I, and I love them, and dear to my heart\n are they,\n In the joy God in them hath given would I live to my dying\n day. 470\n Yea, well is me for my children, tho' sorrow thro' them I\n win,\n And the one of my two fair daughters methinks hath her share\n therein,\n And unlike, tho' alike, we share it--for thro' Love doth my\n lord and king\n Work sorrow to her, and thro' Hatred his forces 'gainst me\n would bring.\n And thus do I read the riddle, my lord worketh ill to me, 475\n Since a _son_ I lack, but I wot well that my _daughters_\n shall dearer be.\n What, then, if for them I suffer? Then my woe do I count for\n weal--\n Who hath never an heir save his daughter, tho' the sword\n ne'er her grip may feel,\n Yet other defence may she bring him, she may win him a son\n and heir;\n And such is my hope!'--Quoth Gawain, 'God grant thee this\n favour fair!' 480\n\n Then Lippaut he sorely pressed him, 'In God's name give thy\n pleading o'er,'\n Spake the son of King Lot, 'I pray thee, of thy courtesy ask\n no more,\n Nor let me betray mine honour--Yet this will I do, Sir\n Knight,\n I will think the thing o'er, and my answer shalt thou have\n ere it draw to night.'\n\n Then he thanked him, the prince, and he rode forth; in the\n courtyard he found alway 485\n His child with the Burg-grave's daughter; with rings did the\n maidens play.\n 'Now, daughter mine, whence camest thou?' thus to Obilot he\n spake,\n 'Father, I came from the castle, to the strange knight my way\n I'ld take,\n I would pray him as knight to serve me, methinks he will hear\n my prayer,\n And do for my sake such service as winneth rewarding fair!' 490\n 'Nay, I fear me, my little daughter, for he saith me nor yea,\n nor nay,\n But plead thou as I have pleaded.' To the guest did she run\n straightway.\n\n So came she to Gawain's chamber, he greeted her courteously,\n At her fairy feet he sat him, and thanked her that, maidenly,\n She spake for him to her sister; and he quoth, 'Now if ever a\n knight 495\n Had fought for so small a maiden, I were ready for thee to\n fight!'\n\n Then the little maiden tender spake out so frank and free,\n 'Sir Knight, as God is witness, the first man thou aye shalt\n be\n With whom I have held free converse; if in this my maiden\n shame\n And my courtesy I wrong not, then joy as reward I claim! 500\n For ever my mistress taught me how speech is the crown of\n thought,\n And I pray thee, Sir Knight, to help us--Thro' sorrow thine\n aid I sought;\n An thou wilt, all our need I'll tell thee, nor do thou be\n wroth with me,\n For I do as befits a maiden, and my prayer to _myself_ shall\n be.\n For altho' our name be diverse, yet methinks that _thou_ art\n _I_, 505\n Take thou my name, and maiden and knight art thou verily.\n This grace from us both do I pray here, and if I from hence\n must go\n Ashamed, and my prayer unanswered, then, Sir Knight, I would\n have thee know\n That thy knightly fame must answer to thy knightly courtesy,\n Since my maidenhood sought for shelter in vain in thy\n chivalry. 510\n But if thou indeed wilt hearken, and do me this thing I ask,\n With a true heart true love I'll give thee as rewarding for\n knightly task.'\n\n 'And art thou true man and courteous, then surely thou'lt do\n my will,\n For see, wilt thou serve a maiden, I am worthy thy service\n still.\n 'Tis true that my father kinsman and cousin for help hath\n prayed, 515\n But for that shalt thou not refuse us, for my love shalt thou\n give thine aid!'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Thy lips, sweet maiden, would bid me my word\n forswear,\n Wouldst have me my pledge to forfeit? On my knightly honour\n fair\n I pledged my word--An I fail me, 'twere better methinks to\n die.\n Yet, e'en an I did thee service for thy love, still long\n years must fly 590\n Ere yet thou shalt be a woman, and my service might well\n approve.'\n Then he thought how Parzival trusted less in God than in\n woman's love,\n And the words he spake bare the message of the maid unto\n Gawain's heart;\n And he vowed to the little lady to bear arms on her father's\n part,\n And, laughing, he spake, 'My sword-blade thy little hand must\n guide, 525\n If my foeman a fair joust seeketh, then thou must against him\n ride;\n And for me shalt thou strive in conflict, for tho' men think\n they see _me_ fight\n Yet _thou_ in my stead shalt have battled,--so keep I my\n pledge aright.'\n\n Then she spake, 'That will I, right gladly, thy shelter and\n shield I'll be,\n Thine heart, and thine heart's best comfort, since from grief\n thou hast set me free. 530\n Thy friend will I be and comrade, and whatever chance betide,\n A roof 'gainst misfortune's stormcloud, safe dwelling wherein\n to hide.\n True peace this my love shall give thee, Good Fortune to thee\n I'll bring;\n That-thy strength may by naught be vanquished, I'll guard\n thee 'gainst host and king.\n Host am I alike and hostess--To combat I'll ride with thee, 535\n An thou keepest my words in remembrance strength and bliss\n shall thy portion be.'\n\n Then out quoth the gallant Gawain, 'Yea, maiden, the twain\n I'll share,\n Since my life I vow to thy service, thy love and thy comfort\n fair.'\n And the hand of the little maiden the while in his strong\n clasp lay--\n Then she quoth, 'To fulfil mine office I must hence to the\n Burg away, 540\n Wouldst thou fare forth without my aiding, and without my\n token fight?\n Nay, for that all too dear I hold thee--My part will I play\n aright,\n And my token I will prepare thee, and if thou my pledge shalt\n bear\n Then I wot well that o'er all others thy glory shall blossom\n fair.'\n\n Then they went forth, the little maidens, and Gawain, the\n stranger guest, 545\n They thanked with sweet words and kindly, and thus he his\n speech addrest,\n 'When older ye twain shall be waxen, were they spears, every\n woodland bough,\n And the forest bare naught but spear-shafts, then too poor\n were the crop, I trow!\n If your childhood shall thus be powerful, what then of your\n maidenhood?\n For your favour brave knights shall shatter both strong\n shield and spear-shaft good!' 550\n\n Then forth sped the little maidens, and their hearts they\n were glad and gay;\n And she spake, the Burg-grave's daughter, 'Lady, I prithee\n say\n What wilt give to thy knight for a token, since naught but\n our dolls have we?\n An mine were but somewhat fairer I would give it right\n willingly\n Nor be wroth with thee for the taking, we should strive not\n o'er that I ween!' 555\n Then Lippaut the prince o'ertook them half-way on the\n hillside green,\n And he saw Obilot and Clauditt\u00e9, as up towards the Burg they\n sped,\n And he bade them stand still, and await him, and his daughter\n towards him fled.\n\n 'Father, I never needed thy help as I do to-day,\n Now give me I pray thy counsel, for the knight he hath said\n me yea.' 560\n 'Whate'er be thy will, little daughter, an I may, I will give\n it thee,\n For happy the day whose dawning brought thee, a fair gift to\n me,\n Then Good Fortune smiled sweetly on me.' 'I will tell thee,\n my father dear,\n But the thing that so sore doth vex me thou must it in secret\n hear,\n So hearken, and do as I pray thee!' Then he bade them to lift\n the maid 565\n On his charger, 'But what of my playmate?' Many knights round\n their leader stayed,\n And they strove which of them should take her, for each one\n well pleased would be,\n Then one as his prize he claimed her, for Clauditt\u00e9 was fair\n to see.\n Then riding, he spake, her father, 'Now Obilot tell to me\n How dost thou need my counsel? What is it that vexeth thee?' 570\n 'I have promised my knight a token, and my wits were I ween\n astray,\n If nothing I find to give him then worthless my life to-day;\n Since he vowed unto me his service then in sooth must I blush\n for shame,\n If I give him naught--Never hero truer love from a maid might\n claim!'\n\n Then he quoth, 'Trust to me, little daughter, and thy token I\n will prepare, 575\n If service from him thou winnest thou shalt give him his\n payment fair,\n If thy mother she too be willing--God grant he may bring us\n aid,\n That gallant knight and worthy; what trust I on him have\n laid!\n Tho' never a word to the hero had I spoken before to-day,\n Yet last night in a dream I saw him, as asleep on my couch I\n lay.' 580\n\n Then Lippaut he sought the Duchess, and with him he led the\n maid,\n And he quoth, 'Now lady, help us, for we twain sorely need\n thine aid;\n And my heart would shout for gladness that God gave me this\n maiden fair,\n And parted me from the sorrow that I all guiltless bare.'\n Then out spake the Duchess, 'Tell me, what wilt thou of my\n grace?' 585\n 'Lady, since thou wilt hearken, this maid craves a better\n dress,\n And she deems she of right may ask it, since a knight will\n her token bear,\n And he asketh her love, and he offers to do for her service\n fair.'\n Then out spake the maiden's mother, 'Ah, good and gallant\n knight!\n Of the stranger I ween thou speakest, as May-tide his glance\n of light.' 590\n\n Then samite of Ethnis\u00e9 the wise mistress she bade them bear\n And rich stuffs as yet unsevered, and silk of Tabronit fair\n From far Tribalibot's kingdom--Red the gold on Kaucasus'\n strand,\n And fair is I ween the raiment which the heathen, with\n cunning hand,\n Wrought from silk, with the gold inwoven--And Lippaut, the\n prince, he bade 595\n That therefrom for his little daughter fitting garments\n should straight be made.\n Nor the best would he grudge to the maiden, and they shaped\n her a garment fair,\n Of silk that with gold was heavy; but one white arm they left\n yet bare,\n And a sleeve that the arm had covered from the vesture they\n cut away,\n This should Gawain win for his token and badge in the coming\n fray. 600\n So this was the gift that she gave him, a rich silk of Orient\n bright,\n That was brought from the land of the paynim, and had covered\n her arm so white.\n But they sewed it not to the garment, nor wrought it at all\n with thread,\n And Clauditt\u00e9 to Gawain bare it, when home from the Burg she\n sped.\n\n And free from all care was the hero; and three were his\n shields so bright, 605\n And on one straightway he bound it, and glad was the gallant\n knight;\n And fairest thanks he gave her, and oft would he praise the\n road\n On which the maid had trodden when she sought him in his\n abode,\n And so gently bade him welcome, and with sweet words and\n maiden wile\n Had made him rich in gladness, and made joy on his path to\n smile. 610\n\n Now the daylight had waned, and the night fell,--many valiant\n knights and good,\n A mighty force, lay on each side,--the besiegers were e'en a\n flood.\n Were they less, for the folk of the city their army enow\n should be.\n And now by the light of the moonbeams they would fain to\n their outworks see;\n Nor terror nor cowardice moved them, they were ready ere\n break of day, 615\n Twelve breast-works wide, and a deep moat before every\n earth-work lay.\n Thus they shielded them well from onslaught, and to every\n earth-work wide\n Were barbicans three, that the army might forth to the\n conflict ride.\n\n And at four of the gates the Marshal, Kardefablet of Jamore,\n With his army bravely battled, as men well at the dawning\n saw. 620\n And the rich Duke fought full knightly; he was brother to\n Lippaut's wife,\n And stronger in heart than others who yet bear them well in\n strife,\n And for men of war are reckoned--In conflict he grief would\n bear--\n With nightfall his host drew nearer, from far land would he\n hither fare,\n For but seldom from stress of battle or conflict he turned\n aside, 625\n And four of their gates he guarded right well in his warlike\n pride.\n\n The force from beyond the river passed o'er it ere morning\n light,\n And entered the walls of Beaurosch, as Lippaut should deem it\n right.\n But they of Jamore had ridden o'er the bridge before the\n gate,\n And every door was guarded, and warlike their foes they wait, 630\n Ere ever the day had dawn\u00e8d--Scherules one door would ward,\n Which he and the brave Knight Gawain would let not from out\n their guard.\n And there had ye heard lamentation from the lips of many a\n knight,\n And the best they were who mourned thus, they had failed here\n to see the fight,\n For the vesper-play was ended ere yet they a joust might\n share. 635\n Yet needless their lamentation, for countless they proffered\n there\n To all who had lust for battle, and to joust in the field\n would ride.\n In the streets saw ye many a hoof-track, and there drew in on\n every side\n Full many a tossing banner by the light of the moonbeam's\n ray.\n And many a costly helmet would they wear in the joust that\n day, 640\n And spears with bright colours blazoned--A Regensburg silk, I\n ween,\n Had been held of little value 'fore Beaurosch on the meadow\n green.\n For many a coat emblazoned had ye looked upon that day,\n Whose goal had methinks been higher in the cost that its lord\n would pay.\n\n And the night, as of old her custom, had yielded her place to\n day, 645\n Nor by song of the lark might they know it, for they\n hearkened far other lay,\n Whose voice was the voice of warfare with the crash of the\n splintered spear,\n As a cloud that is cleft and riven when the thunderbolt\n falleth near.\n And the King of Lys' young army sought the host of Lirivoin,\n And there, with his warriors, battled the monarch of\n Avendroin; 650\n And many a joust rang loudly, e'en as when one is wont to\n throw\n Chestnuts within the furnace that burst in the fiery glow.\n Ah, me! how they strove together that morn on the grassy\n plain,\n How the knights spurred their steeds to jousting, and the\n Burgers they fought amain.\n\n Now Gawain, and his host the Burg-grave, since it health to\n their souls might bring, 655\n And yield them a meed of blessing, bade a priest a Mass to\n sing;\n And he sang unto God and the heroes--And the prize of their\n fame waxed fair,\n For this was their pious bidding--Then they would to their\n post repair,\n But their rampart ere this was guarded by many a gallant\n knight,\n The followers they of Scherules, and well would those heroes\n fight. 660\n\n And what should I tell ye further? Poidikonjonz was proud I\n ween,\n And he came with such host, if in Schwarzwald each bough had\n a spearshaft been\n I had looked on no greater forest than here on this field ye\n saw.\n And six banners they bare, and early to battle would nearer\n draw,\n With ringing blasts of trumpet e'en as thunder that wakeneth\n fear, 665\n And drums strove amain with the trumpets, and smote on the\n listening ear.\n If a grass blade were left untrampled by the conflict I knew\n it not--\n E'en now shall the Erfurt vineyards show such tokens of\n strife, I wot!\n\n Then hither he came, Duke Astor, and he fought with the men\n of Jamore,\n And for sharp joust the spears they whetted, and many a\n knight they bore 670\n From his saddle down on the meadow, and for combat they aye\n were fain;\n And clear rang the stranger war-cries--And masterless o'er\n the plain\n Sped many a gallant charger, and afoot went the fallen\n knight,\n For I ween he had learnt the lesson how one oft is o'erthrown\n in fight.\n\n Then he saw, the gallant Gawain, how out on the plain afar 675\n The host of both friend and foeman were mingled in deadly\n war;\n And he spurred him swift towards them; nor 'twas light in his\n steps to tread,\n Tho' little they spared their chargers, those knights who\n behind him sped,\n Scherules and his vassals--Gawain gave them pain, I trow,\n Ah, me! for the spears he shivered and the knights that he\n laid alow. 680\n\n Had God given him not such valour, this knight of the Table\n Round,\n Then in sooth had one made petition for the fame that he\n there had found.\n 'Twas all as one, both armies, 'gainst the twain did he set\n his hand,\n That of Gros as of Lys--Many chargers did he win from each\n knightly band,\n And straightway the hero brought them where his host's banner\n waved on high, 685\n And he asked who was there who should need them? And many\n swift reply;\n Then he gave them e'en as they answered, and rich were they\n all, I trow,\n Thro' this brother-in-arms whose friendship they here for a\n space should know.\n\n Then there came a knight fast spurring, nor spears did he\n think to spare\n The Lord of Beauvais and Gawain they rode 'gainst each other\n there, 690\n And the young knight, Lisavander, midst the flowers of the\n field he lay,\n From his saddle behind his charger did Gawain thrust the\n prince that day.\n For the sake of his squire shall this grieve me, who yestreen\n so courteous spake,\n And told to Gawain the tidings, and whence all this woe did\n wake.\n He dismounted, and bent o'er his master, and Gawain he knew\n his face, 695\n And he gave him the steed he had won there, and the squire\n thanked his hand of grace.\n\n Now see ye how Kardefablet himself on the ground doth stand\n From a joust that was ridden against him, and aimed by young\n Meljanz' hand;\n From the ground his warriors lift him, and loud rings the\n battle-cry\n 'Jamore!' and the clashing sword-blades to the challenge make\n swift reply. 700\n And closer the fight draws round him, onslaught on onslaught\n pressed,\n And the blows ring loud and deafening that fall on each\n knightly crest.\n Then Gawain called his men around him, and swift to his aid\n he sped,\n And he covered the knight with the banner of his host that\n flew high o'erhead,\n And many brave knights had been felled there--Tho' witness I\n never knew, 705\n Yet in sooth ye may well believe me for the venture it\n telleth true!\n\n Then the Count of Montane rode 'gainst Gawain, and a goodly\n joust they ran,\n And behind his horse, on the meadow, lay the brave Knight\n Lahduman,\n And the hero, proud and gallant, his pledge unto Gawain gave.\n And nearest of all to the ramparts fought Duke Astor with\n heroes brave, 710\n And many a joust was ridden, and many a spear was crossed;\n 'Nantes! Nantes!' came the war-cry pealing, the cry of King\n Arthur's host,\n Firm they stood, and no whit they yielded, the captive Breton\n knights,\n And hirelings from Erec's kingdom and men spake of their\n deeds of might--\n The Duke of Lanveronz led them--So well did they fight that\n day 715\n That Poidikonjonz well might free them, since his captives\n they were alway;\n At the mountain Cluse from King Arthur, in the days that were\n long gone by,\n As his prisoners did he win them, when they stormed him right\n valiantly.\n And here, as was aye their custom, where'er they might chance\n to fight,\n They shouted 'Nantes' as their war-cry, 'twas the way of\n these men of might; 720\n And many had waxed grey-bearded, and on every Breton breast\n Or high on their helmet gleaming stood a Gampilon for their\n crest.\n For as Ilinot's arms they bare it, who was Arthur's gallant\n son--\n And Gawain he sighed as he saw it (small fame he 'gainst\n these had won).\n And his heart awoke to sorrow for the blazon right well he\n knew, 725\n And it filled him again with anguish for the death of his\n kinsman true.\n And his eyes ran o'er with tear-drops, and he passed them\n upon the field,\n Nor with them would he fight--Thus to friendship a hero full\n oft shall yield!\n\n Then he rode on to Meljanz' army, whom the Burgers with might\n withstood,\n And their rightful meed of honour they won from the warriors\n good; 730\n Tho' perforce 'gainst o'ermastering numbers they had failed\n to hold the field,\n And backward within their trenches awhile to the foe must\n yield.\n\n And he who the Burgers challenged his harness glowed red as\n flame,\n 'The Nameless Knight' they called him for none knew from\n whence he came;\n And I tell it to ye as I heard it, to Meljanz he rode, this\n knight, 735\n But three days back, and the Burgers must mourn it in coming\n fight\n That he swore his aid to their foeman--Twelve squires unto\n him he gave,\n To serve him as meet in the jousting, and to follow to\n onslaught brave.\n And the spears their hand might proffer those spears he right\n swiftly brake,\n And clear rang his joust o'er the tumult, when he did as his\n captives take 740\n King Schirniel and his brother; nor he would from his pledge\n release\n The knight whom he here had vanquished, the Duke of\n Marangliess.\n And bravely they fought mid the foremost, and he vanquished\n them as they stood,\n Yet their folk still held them valiant tho' reft of their\n leaders good.\n\n And there fought the young King Meljanz, and all were they\n friend or foe, 745\n They owned greater deeds of valour a young knight might\n seldom show;\n By his hand were the strong shields cloven--Ah! the spears\n that he brake in twain\n As the forces together mingling dashed swift o'er the\n battle-plain.\n And his young heart for conflict lusted, and none gave him of\n strife his fill.\n And it vexed him sore, till Gawain would joust with him at\n his will. 750\n\n Then Gawain took a spear of Angram, that he won him at\n Plimiz\u00f6l,\n And twelve were those spears--The war-cry of Meljanz was\n 'Barbig\u00f6l!'\n Of his kingdom of Lys 'twas chief city--Gawain aimed his\n joust so true,\n And Oraste Gentesein taught sorrow to the king since it\n pierced him thro'\n That strong shaft of reed; his shield piercing, it brake in\n his arm of might-- 755\n And a fair joust again was ridden, and Gawain smote the King\n in flight;\n And the hinder bow of the saddle it brake, and those heroes\n twain\n They stood on their feet, and valiant, they battled with\n swords amain.\n 'Twere more than enough such labour for two churls on the\n threshing-floor,\n And each one bare the sheaf of the other, and each smote the\n other sore. 760\n\n And a spear must Meljanz carry that had smitten him thro' the\n arm,\n And thro' conflict fierce the hero in blood and sweat waxed\n warm.\n Then Gawain by force he drave him within a portal wide,\n And he bade him his pledge to swear him, nor the young king\n his will defied;\n Were he not so sorely wounded then so swiftly he ne'er were\n known, 765\n To yield himself to a foeman, but his prowess had longer\n shown.\n\n Then Lippaut the prince, the land's host, his valour might\n not restrain\n With the monarch of Gros he battled; and alike must they\n suffer pain,\n Both man and steed from the bow-shots, for their skill they\n were fain to show,\n They of Semblidag, and Kahetines, for they fled as they bent\n the bow. 770\n And the Burgers must well bethink them the foe from their\n lines to hold,\n But foot-soldiers had they, and sheltered by their ramparts\n they battled bold.\n And he who of life was forfeit for the wrath of a maid must\n pay,\n For her folly and scorn on her people brought sorrow enow\n that day.\n But what part therein had Lippaut? I think me his lord of\n old, 775\n King Schaut, ne'er had thus beset him! Now faint waxed those\n heroes bold.\n\n But Meljakanz still fought bravely--Do ye think it was whole,\n his shield?\n Not a hand's-breadth wide was the fragment--Then he bare him\n across the field\n Duke Kardefablet, and I think me the Tourney it came to stand\n On the meadow fair and flowery, for fast locked was either\n band. 780\n Then Gawain he rode swiftly to them, and he pressed Meljakanz\n so sore,\n E'en Launcelot, gallant hero, ne'er wrought him such grief\n afore\n When the sword bridge he crossed to battle--Her captivity\n pleased him ill,\n The Queen Guinevere, and he thought him by the sword-blade to\n free her still.\n King Lot's son he rode full gallop--Meljakanz, what could he\n do 785\n But spur his steed towards him? And many that joust must\n view.\n Who lay there behind his charger? He whom the gallant knight\n Of Norroway had smitten to earth with his spear of might.\n And many a knight and lady they looked on this joust so fair,\n And they spake in praise of Gawain, and his fame would aloud\n declare. 790\n And the maidens right well might see it as they looked from\n the hall on high.\n Underfoot was Meljakanz trampled; many steeds did o'er him\n fly,\n And tare with their hoofs his surcoat, who fodder might taste\n no more,\n And they covered the prostrate hero with rain of sweat and\n gore.\n 'Twas a day of doom for the chargers, but the vultures at\n will might feast; 795\n And Duke Astor he came to the rescue, and from them of Jamore\n released\n Meljakanz, or else was he captive, and he raised him from off\n the ground--\n And the Tourney was o'er, and the combat methinks had its\n ending found.\n\n Now who had as knight best ridden, or best for a maiden\n fought?\n Nay, I know not, an I would name them small leisure such task\n had brought. 800\n For Maid Obilot's sake with the townsfolk a knight valiant\n deeds had dared;\n Without, a Red Knight fought bravely, and the fame 'twixt\n those two was shared.\n\n When the guest of the outer army had learnt he no thanks\n might win\n From the king he had served, since Meljanz was captive the\n town within,\n He rode where his squires were waiting, and thus to his\n prisoners spake, 805\n 'Sir Knights, ye your word have pledged me; ill-chance doth\n me here o'ertake,\n For King Meljanz of Lys is captive--Now if ye such grace can\n find\n With his captors, that for _your_ freedom _his_ fetters they\n will unbind,\n Such service I'ld gladly do him!' To the King of Avendroin\n He spake, and to Duke Marangliess, and King Schirniel of\n Lirivoin. 810\n And this oath must they swear unto him, ere they rode the\n walls within,\n To loose Meljanz, or if they failed here, to help him the\n Grail to win.\n But never a word could they tell him of where It was hid, the\n Grail,\n Save 'twas guarded by King Anfortas, but further, their lore\n must fail.\n\n When thus they spake, quoth the Red Knight, 'Then if it shall\n still betide\n That my wish find not here fulfilment, ye to Pelrap\u00e4r shall\n ride,\n And unto the fair queen yielding say, \"He who in days of yore\n Faced Kingron for her and Klamid\u00e9, for the Grail now\n sorroweth sore,\n As he yearneth for her, his lady, and after the twain in\n thought\n And deed is he ever striving.\" To her be this message brought 820\n And ye heroes bear it truly, and as on your way ye ride\n God have ye in His safe keeping, for the world and its ways\n are wide.'\n\n Then they prayed his leave, and they rode hence--And the\n knight to his squires he spake,\n 'Here is booty none may gainsay us, of these steeds ye at\n will may take;\n But leave me one for my riding, since sore wounded mine own\n shall be.' 825\n Spake the Squires, 'Sir Knight, we must thank thee for the\n grace thou hast shown us free,\n For our lifetime hast thou enriched us.' Then he chose in his\n charger's stead,\n With the close-cropped ears, Ingliart, the same that from\n Gawain fled,\n When Meljanz he made his captive, and the twain they must\n fall in field,\n And the Red Knight's hand had caught it, when hewn was many a\n shield. 830\n\n Then Farewell the hero bade them--Full fifteen steeds they\n tell,\n To the squires he left, unwounded, in sooth might they thank\n him well.\n And they prayed him to linger with them, and abide with them\n yet a space,\n But far hence lay the goal he was seeking, and the road he\n was fain to trace.\n So he turned him about, the hero, to where ease should be\n bought full dear 835\n For naught but strife was he seeking--In the days that ye\n read of here\n No knight e'en as he had battled--Then the outer host would\n ride\n To where they might find a lodging, and in peace for a space\n abide.\n\n And within, Lippaut spake, and asked them how matters had\n gone that day?\n That Meljanz was taken captive, that tale did he know alway. 840\n And all was as he would have it, and comfort the hour would\n bear--\n And Gawain loosed the sleeve full gently from his shield,\n lest perchance it tear,\n For he deemed it o'er good for tearing, and Clauditt\u00e9 she\n held it fast,\n And 'twas slashed in the sides and the centre with the spears\n that had thro' it passed;\n And he bade her to Obilot bear it, and glad was the little\n maid, 845\n On her bare white arm soft-rounded the tattered sleeve she\n laid,\n And spake, 'Who hath done this for me?' whene'er she her\n sister saw,\n And wrathful her elder sister her maiden mischief bore.\n\n Then, as weariness it bade them, the knights they craved for\n rest--\n Then Scherules took Count Lahduman, and Gawain his gallant\n guest 850\n And many a knight whom he found there, whom Gawain with\n valiant hand\n Had o'erthrown on the field of battle tho' strife they might\n well withstand.\n And the Burg-grave rich he bade them to sit them in order\n fair,\n And he and his wearied vassals would stand 'fore their\n monarch there\n Till Meljanz his fill had eaten--And they treated him\n courteously, 855\n But Gawain, o'er-much he deemed it, and he spake out, frank\n and free,\n\n 'Methinks an the king allow thee, Sir Host, thou shouldst\n take a seat.'\n Thus spake Gawain in his wisdom, as his courtesy found it\n meet.\n But the host gave his prayer denial, 'The king's man is that\n gallant knight\n My master, this were his office if the king had but deemed it\n right 860\n To take, as of old, his service--My lord thro' his courtesy\n Will not see the face of his monarch while exiled from grace\n is he.\n An it pleaseth God of friendship to sow here the seed once\n more,\n Then joyful we'll do his bidding with one will, as in days of\n yore.'\n\n Then spake the youthful Meljanz, 'Yea, courteous knights and\n true 865\n Were ye, when I dwelt among ye, nor your rede did I ever rue.\n An I now had thy counsel followed, this even had seen me\n glad;\n Now give me thine aid Count Scherules, for the trust that I\n ever had\n In thy faith, with this knight my captor, and with him my\n second sire\n Duke Lippaut--for well I think me they will do as thou shalt\n require-- 870\n Yea, pray them to show me favour, for friends had we been\n to-day\n Had not Obie such jest played on me as no maiden I ween\n should play!'\n\n Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'Afresh shall be knit a\n band\n That naught but death can sever'--Then they came whom the Red\n Knight's hand\n Without had taken captive, on the height would they seek\n their king, 875\n And they told him all that befell them; and Gawain must list\n the thing,\n And they told of the arms of the hero, how their strength\n before his must fail,\n And how he their pledge had taken, and had bidden them seek\n the Grail;\n And he thought how the knight of this venture was none other\n than Parzival,\n And his thanks uprose to high Heaven that no evil did there\n befall, 880\n But that God apart had held them, and they met not in strife\n that day.\n And courteous I ween were those heroes that they tore not the\n veil away,\n But both of them there were nameless, and none knew from\n whence they came,\n Yet I wot well the world around them rang fair with their\n warlike fame.\n\n To Meljanz he spake, Scherules, 'Now, Sire, wilt thou list to\n me? 885\n Look thou again on my master, and such rede as is given to\n thee\n By friends on both sides shalt thou hearken, and thine anger\n shalt thou recall;'\n And all deemed it good, the counsel, so they rode to the\n royal hall,\n The inner force of the city, as the Marshal was fain to pray.\n Then Gawain took the Count Lahduman, and the captives he made\n that day, 890\n And he gathered them all around him, and the pledge that to\n him they gave\n When he erst on the field o'erthrew them, must they yield to\n the Burg-grave brave,\n And gladly they did his bidding--To the palace the heroes\n fare,\n And rich garments as fit for a monarch did the wife of the\n Burg-grave bear;\n And a veil did she give unto Meljanz that should serve him\n for a sling 895\n For the arm that Gawain had wounded, when his spear smote the\n youthful king.\n\n And Gawain by the mouth of Scherules, Obilot his lady prayed;\n Fain would the hero see her, his life in her hand he laid,\n And would crave from her lips dismissal--and further the hero\n spake,\n 'I leave the king here, her captive, and I pray her such\n thought to take 900\n That she may in such wise entreat him, that her honour shall\n wax apace!'\n And Meljanz spake, 'Well I know this, Obilot is of maiden\n grace\n And maiden worth the glory; and joyful am I at heart\n If her captive I be, for in gladness methinks shall I have my\n part,'\n Then out quoth the gallant Gawain, 'Her prisoner art thou\n alone, 905\n 'Tis _she_ who hath captive made thee, and _my_ glory is here\n her own.'\n\n Before them rode Scherules--As was fitting for royal court,\n Nor man was there nor maiden but had robed them in such sort\n That one, in poor guise and scanty, might scarce have been\n seen that day--\n They who sware their pledge to the Red Knight with Meljanz\n must take their way. 910\n And there in the hall of the castle they sat in their order\n four,\n Lippaut, his wife, and his daughters, as the guests passed\n within the door.\n\n Up sprang the host and hastened his lord and king to greet,\n And close pressed the crowd around them as friend with foe\n did meet;\n By Gawain's side stood Meljanz. 'Now, an it were here thy\n will, 915\n Thy friend of old, the Duchess, with kiss would she greet\n thee still.'\n And Meljanz to his host made answer, '_Two_ ladies I think to\n see\n From whom I'll take kiss and greeting--but the _third_ naught\n shall win from me.'\n\n And the parents wept; but the maiden, Obilot, was glad and\n gay,\n And they greeted their king with kisses; and two beardless\n kings that day 920\n They kissed, with the Duke of Marangliess, and the gallant\n Knight Gawain.\n And they brought him his little lady, and the fair child he\n clasped again,\n And e'en as a doll he held her so close to his manly breast,\n As joy and delight constrained him, and to Meljanz his speech\n addrest:\n 'Thine hand hath surety pledged me, of that shall thou now be\n free, 925\n In my right arm I hold my lady, _her_ captive thou now shalt\n be.'\n\n Then Meljanz he stept him nearer, and she held fast to\n Gawain's hand,\n And she took the pledge of her monarch mid the knights who\n did round them stand.\n 'Sir King, 'twas ill-done I think me, if a _merchant_ he be\n my knight\n As my sister hath said, to yield thee as his captive on field\n of might!' 930\n Thus spake Obilot, the maiden; then to Meljanz she gave\n command,\n He should yield his pledge to her sister, and swear it hand\n clasped in hand;\n 'Thou shalt have her for Love, for thy knighthood, as her\n Love and her Lord art thou\n Henceforward, of true heart gladly, and ye twain to my will\n shall bow!'\n\n God spake by the lips of the maiden, her will it was done\n straightway, 935\n And Frau Minne with power and wisdom again o'er their hearts\n held sway,\n And knit afresh the meshes, and fettered the twain anew;\n From the folds of her flowing mantle her small hand Obie\n drew,\n And she touched the arm of her lover, and weeping, her lips\n so red\n Kissed the wound he had won in jousting, since it was for her\n sake he bled. 940\n And his arm was bathed in the tear-drops that flowed from her\n eyes so bright--\n How waxed she thus bold 'fore the people? 'Twas Love bade her\n claim her right;\n And fulfilled was the wish of Lippaut, and naught of his\n bliss should fail,\n Since God had willed that his daughter henceforth as his\n queen he hail!\n\n How the wedding feast was holden, ask them who took their\n share 945\n Of wedding gifts, or wandering, to Beaurosch had thought to\n fare.\n If they fought, or were fain to rest them, of that I no word\n may tell,\n But they say in the hall of the palace Sir Gawain would bid\n farewell\n To her for whose leave he came there, and sore wept the\n little maid\n And spake, 'Now take me with thee,' but Gawain her wish\n gainsaid, 950\n And scarce might her mother tear her from the knight--leave\n he prayed them there,\n And Lippaut he proffered service for the good-will he towards\n him bare.\n And his gallant host, Scherules, with his folk he would not\n delay\n To ride awhile with the hero; and he wended a woodland way,\n And they gave him guides for his journey, and food lest he\n ill should fare, 955\n And he bade them farewell, and sorrow Gawain for the parting\n bare.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK VIII\n\nANTIKONIE\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBook VIII. tells how Gawain came to Schamfanzon, and how King\nVergulacht committed him to the care of his sister Antikonie. How\nGawain wooed the maiden, and of the wrath of her people. Of the\nadventure of the chess-board, and how Kingrimursel came to the\n help of\nGawain. How Antikonie reproached King Vergulacht, and how the\n nobles\ncounselled their monarch. Of the oath Gawain sware to the King,\n and how\nhe rode forth to seek the Grail.\n\n BOOK VIII\n\n ANTIKONIE\n\n Whosoe'er at Beaurosch had battled, methinks that Gawain had\n won\n The highest fame in both armies, save but for one knight\n alone;\n And none knew his red harness glowing, and none knew from\n whence he came,\n But high as a banner waveth, so high did it rise, his fame.\n Yet of honour alike and good fortune had Gawain in full his\n share-- 5\n Now hence must he ride, for the moment of strife which he\n sought drew near,\n And far and wide stretched the woodland thro' which he must\n wend his way--\n No conflict he shunned, tho' all guiltless of the sin men on\n him would lay.\n But, alas! his charger failed him, Ingliart, with the\n close-cropped ear,\n In the land of the Moors at Tabronit no better the steeds\n they rear. 10\n And diverse the wood around him, here a bush and there a\n field,\n And so narrow at whiles, that pathway, it scarcely a space\n might yield\n For tent, or for knight's pavilion. Then fair dwellings met\n his eye,\n 'Twas Askalon, and he prayed them if Schamfanzon at hand did\n lie?\n But many a marsh and moorland and many a steep hillside 15\n Must he traverse, ere fair before him in the setting sun he\n spied\n A fortress stand so stately, it gleamed in the sunlight's\n rays,\n And he turned his steed towards it who rode here on unknown\n ways.\n\n Now list ye awhile the venture, and mourn ye awhile with me\n The sorrow that fell on Gawain--And if old ye shall chance to\n be 20\n Or young, yet of this your friendship I pray you his grief to\n weep;\n Alas! were it best to tell ye, or silence a space to keep?\n Nay, better to tell the story, how he whom Good Luck did call\n Her friend, was by her forsaken, and how grief to his lot\n must fall.\n\n So proudly uprose the fortress that never did Carthage seem 25\n So fair to the eyes of \u00c6neas, when Dido, as failed her dream\n Of love, turned to death and, seeking, found rest in his cold\n embrace.\n Would ye know what countless turrets those stately halls did\n grace?\n Scarce more had Akraton boasted, that city whose walls so\n wide,\n An man may believe the heathen, with Babylon only vied; 30\n So high rose the circling ramparts, and where to the sea they\n fell\n No storm might they fear, but defiance could they bid to\n their foes right well.\n\n 'Fore the city a plain outstretching lay fair for a mile or\n more.\n As Sir Gawain rode across it, five hundred knights he saw,\n Yet one, o'er all the others, gallant and fair to sight; 35\n Gaily they rode towards him all clad in raiment bright,\n For so the venture telleth--With their falcons soaring high\n Would they chase the crane, or other fair game that should\n wing\u00e8d fly.\n A tall steed from Spain's far kingdom, King Vergulacht\n bestrode,\n And his glance was as day in the night-time--Aforetime his\n race abode 40\n Where Mazadan reigned as monarch, by Fay Morgan's mystic\n mount,\n And amid the roll of his fathers he many a fay might count--\n And even as in the spring-tide the May blossom bloometh fair\n So rode the king in his beauty, and Gawain he bethought him\n there,\n As he saw him ride so stately, 'twas another Parzival, 45\n Or Gamuret, as he came to Kanvoleis, as this venture erewhile\n did tell.\n\n Now into a pond so marshy a heron had taken flight\n As it fled from before the falcon, and the king, as beseemed\n a knight,\n Sought not for the ford but followed as he saw his falcon's\n need,\n And wet he won in the aiding, and lost was his gallant steed, 50\n And lost too his royal raiment, tho' safe was I ween the\n bird.\n The falconers took his garments, for this, so the tale I've\n heard,\n Was their right, and they needs must have them, and no man\n might say them nay.\n Another horse they brought him, for lost was his own for aye,\n And fresh garments they put upon him, since such was the\n chance of fate 55\n That his falconers won the vesture that had decked their king\n of late.\n\n Then Sir Gawain, he rode towards them, and knightly and\n worshipful\n The greeting they gave unto him, not such as in Karid\u00f6l\n Once fell to the lot of Erec, when after his well-fought\n fight\n He had fain drawn near to King Arthur, and with him his lady\n bright, 60\n Fair Enid, who graced his coming--But the dwarf Maliklisier\n With a scourge full hardly smote him, 'neath the eyes of\n Queen Guinevere.\n At Tulmein he took his vengeance, where, within the ring so\n wide\n To win the hawk, the heroes in deeds of valour vied.\n 'Twas Id\u00ear, the son of Noit, a hero true and bold 65\n Whom he else had slain, whom Erec did there in surety hold.\n\n But leave we all other venture, and hearken awhile to me,\n For in sooth never fairer welcome shall it fall to your lot\n to see.\n Yet, alas! for ill it wrought him, Gawain, King Lot's brave\n son--\n An ye will I will cease my story ere the tale to its end be\n run, 70\n And for pity's sake keep silence--Yet perchance it were best\n to tell\n The ill that thro' others' treason on a gallant spirit fell.\n And if I yet further pray ye this story strange to heed\n Then in sooth, e'en as I, right truly will ye mourn for its\n hero's need.\n\n Quoth the king, 'Sir Knight, thus I think me, thou shalt to\n the castle ride, 75\n Thine _host_ will I be right gladly, tho' scarce may I be thy\n _guide_;\n Yet if this on my part shall vex thee the chase will I gladly\n leave!'\n Quoth Gawain, 'As it best may please thee, that do, nor for\n my sake grieve,\n Whate'er thou shalt do shall be well done--No grudge do I\n bear thee, Sire,\n But of right good-will I gladly will do as thou shalt\n require.' 80\n\n Quoth the king of Askalon further, 'Schamfanzon thou well\n mayst see\n Sir Knight, there my sister dwelleth, who as yet but a maid\n shall be;\n And she hath in fullest measure such beauty as poets sing--\n An thou as a grace shalt hold it, my knights unto her shall\n bring\n Such word she shall well entreat thee in my stead, till I\n come again. 85\n And whenever I come, I think me, 'twill be sooner than thou\n art fain\n To look on my face, for gladly wilt thou spare me when thou\n shalt see\n My sweet sister, nor e'er bemoan thee, tho' my coming o'er\n late shall be!'\n\n 'Nay, gladly again I'll see thee, and gladly thy sister\n greet,\n Tho' as host never queen has done me such service as host\n finds meet' 90\n Thus spake the gallant Gawain--Then a knight bare the king's\n behest\n To his sister, that she, as fitting, should so care for the\n stranger guest\n That however long his absence the hours should as minutes\n fly--\n (An ye will, I will cease my story that now runneth but\n mournfully!)\n\n Nay, further I'll tell the venture,--Steed and pathway the\n hero bore 95\n Where as one were both Burg and palace, and he held him\n before the door.\n And he who shall e'er have builded a house, he shall better\n know\n To tell of this mighty castle, and the strength of its walls\n to show.\n Yea, indeed 'twas a Burg, none better might this earth on its\n bosom bear\n And around it, far outstretching, the ramparts towered high\n in air. 100\n\n Leave we the praise of the castle, and speak of the castle's\n queen,\n A maiden fair, for of women I shall better speak I ween,\n And as fitting I'll sing her praises--Was she fair to the\n eye? 'Twas well;\n Was she true of heart? Then gladly will men of her praises\n tell.\n And so both in mind and manner might she vie with that lady\n true, 105\n The Margravine, who from Heitstein afar o'er her marches\n threw\n A light,--Well for him who dwelleth as friend in her presence\n fair,\n Such pastime as there his portion he findeth not other-where!\n For I praise but a woman's virtue, as I see, and shall surely\n know,\n True and pure must she be, the maiden, on whom I shall praise\n bestow. 110\n And he whom this venture singeth is a gallant man and true,\n For no dealing have I with falsehood, or with one who his\n deeds shall rue,\n As repentance, slowly piercing, but turneth his bliss to\n bale,\n And his soul knoweth wrath and sorrow, or ever his life-days\n fail.\n\n To the castle court rode Gawain, and the goodly company 115\n To whom the king had sent him, who shamed for his sake should\n be.\n Then the knight to his lady led him, as she sat in her\n beauty's glow,\n Queen Antikonie--Could the merchants a woman's fame bestow,\n Of such goods had she made rich purchase; 'gainst falsehood\n she set her face,\n And hers was the crown of honour, and a maiden's maiden\n grace. 120\n Ah! woe's me for him of Veldeck, that death thus cut short\n his days,\n None is there of all men living who so well could have sung\n her praise.\n\n Then Gawain, he looked on the maiden, and the messenger spake\n the word\n E'en as the king had bade him, and the queen his message\n heard.\n Then gently she spake to the hero, 'Come thou near unto me,\n Sir Knight, 125\n Thyself shalt be my master in courtesy, as is right;\n And gladly I'll do thy bidding--If well it shall please thee\n here,\n 'Twill be even as thou shalt order--Yea, since my brother\n dear\n Hath bid me well entreat thee, I'll kiss thee, if so I may.\n I'll do, or leave it undone, e'en as thou the word shalt\n say!' 130\n\n Courteous she stood before him, quoth Gawain, 'Thy lips so\n red\n In sooth were made for kissing, be kiss and greeting sped!'\n So full and warm and rosy were the lips that Gawain pressed,\n No stranger sure had kissed her as kissed this stranger\n guest.\n Unchecked he sat him by her, and sweet words passed between, 135\n Soft spake they to each other; and oft renewed, I ween,\n His prayers and her denials, yea, sorely grieved was he,\n And fain to win her favour--Then she spake as I tell to ye:\n\n 'Bethink thee, Sir Knight, thou art wise else, with this I\n enough have done,\n For I ween at my brother's bidding mine uncle Gamuret won 140\n Less welcome from Queen Anflis\u00e9 than the welcome _I_ gave to\n thee,\n An our tending were weighed together methinks hers would\n lighter be.\n Nor know I, Sir Knight, whence thou comest, nor e'en what\n shall be thy name,\n That, after such short approving, thou shouldst to my love\n lay claim!'\n\n Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'Then know here assuredly 145\n O! queen, of my father's sister the brother's son am I;\n Wilt thou give me sweet love's rewarding, for my birth shalt\n thou not delay,\n Hand in hand, and to equal measure, it paceth with thine\n alway!'\n The maiden who filled the wine-cup she had passed from out\n the hall,\n And the women who sat beside them must now to their mind\n recall 150\n The task that elsewhere did wait them; nor longer the knight\n stood there\n Who erst to the queen had brought him--As Gawain was now\n aware\n That no man was here beside them, he thought how a mighty\n bird\n Is oft trapped by a little falcon--nor further he spake a\n word,\n But he passed his arm around her beneath her mantle's fold, 155\n And love laid such stress upon them, the maid and the hero\n bold,\n That belike a thing had chanced there, an no eye had been\n there to see,\n Of one mind were the twain--yet heart-sorrow drew near to\n them speedily.\n\n For straight stepped within the doorway an old and\n grey-haired knight,\n And loudly he called on Gawain, and shouted a shout of might, 160\n For well did he know the hero, and fiercely his cry did ring,\n 'Alas! alas! woe upon us, since the hand that hath slain our\n king\n Is fain now to force his daughter!' At the sound of his\n battle-cry\n The folk that within the castle abode to the hall did hie,\n So it fell out--Then quoth Sir Gawain to the queen, 'Now,\n Lady mine, 165\n Say thou how we best may ward us 'gainst this wrathful folk\n of thine,\n For sure they will come against us--An I had but my sword at\n hand!'\n Then out spake the gentle maiden, 'Their might shall we best\n withstand\n An we to yon tower betake us that riseth my bower beside,\n Perchance they will then bethink them, and the storm shall we\n override.' 170\n\n Here a knight, and there a merchant, already the maid must\n hear,\n With the cry of the angry townsfolk, as the twain to the\n tower drew near;\n And sore was her friend beset there, tho' she prayed them\n from strife to cease,\n So loud rose the angry tumult none hearkened her words of\n peace.\n\n 'Gainst the portal the foe pressed onward, Gawain stood\n within the door, 175\n And held off the angry rabble; an iron bolt he tore\n From its fastenings wherewith to arm him, and before his\n strong right hand\n Full oft fled his evil neighbours, they durst not his blows\n withstand.\n While the queen, with flying footsteps, hither and thither\n sought\n To find, perchance, some weapon 'gainst the foe that so\n fiercely fought. 180\n At length did she chance on some chess-men, and a\n chess-board, wide and fair,\n That hung by a ring of iron; to Gawain she brought it there,\n As a shield four-square it served him; yea, many a game was\n played\n On that board ere 'twas hewn in battle--Now hear of the royal\n maid;\n\n Were it king, or queen, or castle, she hurled them against\n the foe, 185\n Heavy and large the chess-men, and in sooth I would have ye\n know\n They who by her shaft were stricken must ever a fall abide.\n Right bravely the queen so gracious now fought by her hero's\n side,\n And she bare herself so knightly, that never the Burger maids\n Of Tollenstein at Shrove-tide such dauntless skill displayed. 190\n And yet they but fight for folly, and weary themselves for\n naught--\n An a woman bear trace of battle, on her womanhood shame is\n brought,\n (For I know what befits a woman,) unless love shall have bid\n her fight\n To prove her faith--Now faithful and true was that lady\n bright,\n As Schamfanzon might bear witness--Yet, tho' high of heart\n was she, 195\n Many tears that conflict cost her; for in sooth shall it ever\n be\n That Love is brave as steadfast, yet tender and true of\n heart--\n Would ye know how in such fierce conflict Sir Gawain would\n bear his part?\n\n When the strife but leisure gave him to gaze on the maid\n aright,\n Her lips so red and glowing, her eyes so soft and bright-- 200\n More slender was she and shapely than ever a lowland hare\n That ye truss on the spit, so graceful her limbs, and her\n form so fair;\n Full well might her charms awaken desire in the heart of man.\n And smaller, I ween, the maiden, where her golden girdle ran\n Around her waist, than ants are, and their slender shape ye\n know-- 205\n The sight wrought in Gawain courage his foemen to overthrow,\n For she shared his need; his chastising none other than death\n should be,\n And help was there none--Then his anger flamed high and wroth\n was he\n As he looked on that gentle maiden, and no fear was his but\n hate,\n And sorely his foemen rued it who met at his hand their fate. 210\n\n Came King Vergulacht, and he saw well how his folk 'gainst\n Gawain did fight;\n Nor do I in this deceive ye, nor can I account him right\n That not as a host he bare him, when he saw his gallant guest\n Thus stand, as one man against many--But straight thro' the\n throng he pressed,\n In such wise, I must mourn for Gandein, the monarch of Anjou\n fair, 215\n That his daughter, so true a lady, so faithless a son must\n bear.\n From the strife his folk he called not, short space must they\n stay their hand\n While the king would don his armour, he lusted to lead the\n band.\n\n Too mighty the force for Gawain, nor I ween shall ye count it\n shame\n That he closed the door upon them--Then in wrath and haste\n there came 220\n The knight who to battle bade him 'fore Arthur at Plimiz\u00f6l\n But short time back--They called him the Landgrave\n Kingrimursel,\n And sore did Gawain's need vex him, he wrung his hands amain,\n For in sooth had he pledged his honour his foe should in\n peace remain\n Till _one_ man alone o'ercame him--Old and young from the\n tower he drave, 225\n Yet the portal would they force open, as their king\n commandment gave.\n\n Then the Landgrave he cried on Gawain, 'Sir Knight, I would\n in to thee\n As a friend, that this bitter conflict I may share, if it so\n must be,\n For then must my monarch slay me, or leave thee in life\n to-day.'\n Peace Gawain would swear unto him, and he made to the tower\n his way-- 230\n Then doubtful, the foemen thronging, their hand for a space\n must hold,\n For their Burg-grave he was, and his bidding had they\n hearkened both young and old.\n Then, as ceased the noise of battle, thro' the doorway he\n sprang, Gawain,\n And the Landgrave, he stood beside him, swift and bold were\n those heroes twain.\n\n Quoth King Vergulacht, 'Why tarry? Why stand we here as on\n guard, 235\n When of foemen but _two_ shall dare us, and none other the\n tower gates ward?\n Much my cousin doth take upon him, when he dareth to shield\n my foe,\n Yea, _himself_ should wreak vengeance on him, if his faith he\n were fain to show!'\n\n Of true heart then they chose a true man, and unto the king\n he spake,\n 'Now, Sire, upon our Landgrave no vengeance we think to take, 240\n Nor shall harm at _our_ hand befall him--May God so turn thy\n mind\n That, instead of shaming, honour thou shalt from this venture\n find.\n For shame shall it bring upon thee, and an ending to thy fair\n fame,\n If he who as host doth hail thee shall here at thine hand be\n slain.\n And thy kinsman is he, this other who hath brought him into\n this land; 245\n So, lest cursing and shame be thy portion, we pray thee to\n stay thine hand,\n And grant thou a truce thro' the daylight, and the fleeting\n hours of night,\n Then bethink thee for shame or honour, and do as shall seem\n thee right!'\n\n 'And our queen who hath ne'er known falsehood, thy sister,\n Antikonie,\n See there as she standeth by him and weepeth full bitterly. 250\n Canst thou see such sight without rueing, since one mother\n bare ye both?\n And bethink thee, sire, thou art wise else, thou didst send\n him, nothing loth,\n Alone to this gentle maiden, nor further a guardian gave;\n For _her_ sake it were well to spare him!' Then the king bade\n those warriors brave\n To call a truce--He'ld bethink him how vengeance he best\n might take 255\n For his father's death--Yet all guiltless Gawain, for\n another's sake,\n Must he bear the shame; with a lance-thrust by Ekun\u00e2t was he\n slain\n As to Barbig\u00f6l Prince Iofreit, a prisoner, he would have\n ta'en,\n Who had ridden erewhile with Gawain--In such wise the chance\n befell\n That they deemed that _Gawain_ had slain him--So men do the\n venture tell. 260\n\n And scarce was the truce bespoken ere of men was the field\n bereft,\n Each betook him unto his lodging, nor one on the ground was\n left.\n Then the queen threw her arms around him, and with many a\n kiss so sweet\n She gave to her gallant cousin such rewarding as seemed her\n meet,\n Since so bravely he stood by Gawain, and sheltered the twain\n from wrong, 265\n And she spake, 'Now art thou my cousin, nor unfaith shall to\n thee belong.'\n\n Now hearken and I will read ye that word which I spake of\n late,\n How a true heart sore was darkened--I ween 'twas an evil fate\n That led Vergulacht to Schamfanzon; such deed he ne'er did\n learn\n From sire or aye from mother, with shame did the young knight\n burn, 270\n And torment sore and suffering his better self must know\n As his sister 'gan upbraid him, small mercy the maid would\n show.\n\n And thus spake the noble maiden, 'Now had it but been God's\n will,\n That I, a man born, might sword bear, and knightly tasks\n fulfil,\n To strive with me hadst thou come here, methinks thou hadst\n come too late,-- 275\n But now am I all defenceless, a maiden, and no man's mate.\n And yet a shield I carry, and fair its device shall be,\n And honoured of all--Its blazon would I read here, Sir King,\n to thee,\n That thou henceforth mayst know it--Pure heart and upright\n mind,\n That true man beneath its cover a shelter may ever find. 280\n And that, o'er the gallant hero whom thou sentest unto my\n care,\n Did I hold, and 'gainst thee, his foeman, I did, as beseemed\n me, bear,\n For none other armour had I--And if thou repent the ill\n Thou hast done to thy guest, me, thy sister, hast thou\n wronged more deeply still;\n For this is the right of woman, so ever 'twas told to me, 285\n That if ever unto the shelter of a maiden a knight shall\n flee,\n Then they who as foemen follow shall straightway leave their\n chase--\n In such wise they ever bear them who would not their shield\n disgrace--\n Now, Sir Vergulacht, that thy guest fled to _me_ as his hope\n of life,\n Hath loaded with shame thine honour, since thou aided, nor\n checked, thestrife!' 290\n\n Then Kingrimursel quoth sternly, 'Yea, Sire, 'twas at _thy_\n command,\n That on Plimiz\u00f6l's plain I bade him, Sir Gawain, to seek this\n land.\n On thy royal word safe conduct I sware him, that should he\n ride\n Hither we twain were pledged him no evil should here betide,\n Save but from _one_ foeman only--Now, Sire, thou hast here\n done ill 295\n In that, spite of thine oath so knightly, thy word thou didst\n not fulfil.\n And here shall my fellows hearing give judgment betwixt us\n twain,\n If thus thou wrongest _princes_, what as _king_ mayst thou\n hope to gain\n From us of faith and honour?--If honoured thou fain wouldst\n be,\n Then, courteous, make confession that near of kin are we; 300\n True cousin am I, no bastard, and e'en if such chance had\n been,\n Even then, in this thy dealing, thou hadst done me a wrong, I\n ween!\n A knight am I in whom no man hath found a taint of shame,\n And I think me that free from falsehood, yea, to death will I\n guard my fame,\n For in God have I ever trusted, and, methinks, He holds not\n in store 305\n Such fate for the days of the future as I knew not in days of\n yore.\n Yet they who shall hear the story, how the nephew of Arthur\n rode\n To Schamfanzon 'neath my safe-conduct, where'er shall be his\n abode--\n An he come from the land of the Breton, or from France, or\n from Provence fair,\n Burgundian he, or Gallician, or the arms of Punturtois bear-- 310\n When he hear of the grief of Gawain then _my_ fame shall be\n swiftly sped,\n And shame be my meed for the danger that threatened that\n knightly head.\n At the tale of this strife shall my glory wax narrow, and\n blame grow wide;\n And, as joy in the past dwelt with me, so henceforward shall\n shame abide.'\n\n As he made an end of speaking stood a vassal the king before, 315\n And, as Kiot himself hath told us, Liddamus was the name he\n bore.\n And I speak here of Kiot the singer, and so sweet was I ween\n his song\n That none wax of the hearing weary, tho' the days of their\n life be long.\n And I rede ye to wit that Kiot of old was a Proven\u00e7al,\n Who found writ in a book of the heathen this story of\n Parzival. 320\n And in French again he sang it, and I, if no wit shall fail,\n Would fain in his footsteps follow, and in German would tell\n the tale.\n\n Quoth the Prince Liddamus in his anger, 'Now say, what doth\n he do here\n In the house of my lord, who his father hath slain, and hath\n brought anear\n The brand of shame? My king's courage is known thro' many a\n land, 325\n 'Twould better beseem his honour to avenge him with his own\n hand;\n One death for the other payeth--and the need waxeth here as\n there.'\n And Gawain he stood in sore peril, and fear for his life must\n bear.\n\n Quoth Kingrimursel, 'Who to threaten is swift, he as swift\n should be\n To mingle in strife, yet but lightly thy foeman he holdeth\n thee! 330\n An wide were the field or narrow, yet Sir Liddamus, I know\n well\n This man were safe from thine onslaught e'en tho' shame at\n his hand befell,\n For ne'er wouldst thou dare to avenge it, who yet dost so\n loudly boast--\n And swifter were we to hearken if ever in battle host\n We had seen thee ride the foremost! But strife ever wrought\n thee pain, 335\n And afar from the field of battle to linger thou aye wast\n fain.\n Yea, _more_ hast thou learnt--The beginning of strife didst\n thou ever see,\n Then hence wouldst thou fly as swiftly as a maiden is wont to\n flee.\n And the prince who thy counsel hearkens, and doeth as thou\n shalt say,\n Shall find that the crown he weareth but loosely shall sit\n alway!' 340\n\n 'And fain, in a joust so knightly, were I to have faced\n Gawain,\n Nor feared me aught, for such combat had we sworn fast\n betwixt us twain.\n And here had we fought, as fitting, 'neath the eye of the\n king my lord,\n And wroth am I now, for dearer, methought, had he held his\n word!\n Now swear thou to me, Sir Gawain, when a year from this day\n be past, 345\n To meet me again in combat--If thou 'scape my lord's wrath at\n last,\n And thy life for a prey he leave thee, yet we twain must\n fight our fight.\n At Plimiz\u00f6l first I bade thee; at Barbig\u00f6l, if it seem thee\n right,\n Before Meljanz, the youthful monarch, the strife shall\n methinks be fought;\n And around my heart till the day come shall sorrow's wreath\n be wrought, 350\n And gladly I'll hail that dawning, and face thee, thou hero\n bold,\n Tho' the guerdon be but of sorrow, that shall there by thine\n hand be told.'\n\n So there, as the Landgrave bade him, the hero Gawain swore,\n And his oath, and his pledge so knightly, he plighted as erst\n of yore.\n But Duke Liddamus, he bethought him of words that he fain\n would say, 355\n And with cunning skill and wisdom his speech did he weave\n that day.\n\n Thus he spake for all men to hear him, for the time of speech\n was come,\n 'Now if strife ever call upon me, if the battle be lost or\n won,\n If I fight as beseems a hero, or fly as a coward flies,\n If the meed of my warlike bearing be honour in all men's\n eyes, 360\n Then reward me I pray, Sir Landgrave, with rewarding as I\n shall win;\n But if honour or praise be withholden I count it not me for\n sin!'\n\n Nor here did his speech find ending. 'If _Turnus_ thou fain\n wouldst be,\n Then good, thou shalt find me _Tranzes_; thou mayst well\n wreak thy will on me,\n If so be thou hast aught against me, but 'tis _thou_ who dost\n boast too loud, 365\n Yea, e'en an thou wert the highest of my peers, these princes\n proud;\n For Prince am I too, and Landgrave, and I have in Galicia's\n land\n Many Burgs so fair and stately that e'en far as Vedrun stand.\n And tho' thou and this Breton stranger were minded to work me\n ill,\n Yet not even a fowl for thy threatening would fly, but abide\n thee still!' 370\n\n 'He came from the land of the Breton whom thou hither for\n strife didst hale.\n Take _thou_ vengeance for king and kinsman, if such vengeance\n may aught avail;\n With _him_, not with _me_, thy quarrel, avenge thou thine\n uncle's life\n On him who of life hath robbed him, it toucheth me not, this\n strife,\n For I wot well in naught I wronged him, and none for such\n wrong makes moan. 375\n\n What need to bewail thine uncle? His son sitteth on his\n throne,\n And I ask for no higher ruler, since Fleurdamur, the queen,\n Was his mother, his sire Kingrisein, and his grandsire\n Gandein hath been.\n And still in my mind it dwelleth how Galoes and Gamuret,\n Those heroes twain, were his uncles, nor lie I, nor truth\n forget. 380\n And I think me that in all honour my castles and lands so\n wide\n I may take from his hand, with their banners, and serve him\n whate'er betide!'\n\n 'Let him fight who hath lust for fighting, for weary of\n strife am I,\n Tho' I know well who fame in battle doth win, for his victory\n Hath reward from the lips of women, yet for never a maiden's\n sake 385\n Will I evil entreat this body, or bid it such ill-road take.\n Nay, why should I be a Wolfhart? Since barred is the battle\n way,\n And no lust of strife hath beguiled me that I know not the\n thing I say.\n If thou shouldst for aye despise me, yet Rumolt I'll take as\n guide,\n Who gave counsel unto King Gunther, ere yet to the Huns he\n hied. 390\n For he bade him in Worms abide still, where was plenty and\n e'en to spare,\n And content his soul with the flesh-pots and the riches of\n Rhineland fare!'\n\n But ready of wit was the Landgrave, and he spake, 'Yea, the\n tale be told\n E'en to day, and no man shall marvel, for we know well thy\n ways of old.\n Thou wouldst urge me to strife, yet thy counsel is e'en what\n a cook once gave 395\n To the Nibelung lord, little recked he such counsel, the hero\n brave.\n For he and his, little doubting, went boldly to meet their\n fate,\n And avenged was the death of Siegfried, and sated was\n Kriemhild's hate!\n And Sir Gawain, I ween, must give me my death, or himself\n must feel\n The weight of my bitter vengeance as we battle for woe or\n weal!' 400\n\n 'Thou dost well,' Liddamus made answer, 'yet I think me of\n treasure fair,\n All that Arthur might hold, or India, if one such to my feet\n should bear,\n And say 'twas mine own, he might have it ere I fought e'en\n for such a prize.\n An thou wilt, win thee fame and honour, I, I think me, am all\n too wise.\n God knoweth, no Segramor am I, whom men must with fetters\n bind 405\n So keenly for strife he lusted, far other was aye my mind.\n Yet mine be my monarch's favour, for Sibech ne'er drew a\n sword,\n But ever he fled with the flying, yet men hearkened well his\n word;\n And many for counsel prayed him, and great gifts and lands\n enow\n The hand of Ermenrich gave him, tho' no helmet e'er felt his\n blow. 410\n And Sir Kingrimursel, I rede thee, thou shalt mark me with\n never a scar!'\n Then out spake King Vergulacht sternly, as he ended their\n wordy war:\n\n 'Peace, peace, nor so loudly wrangle, Sir Knights, all too\n bold are ye,\n For too near is your monarch's presence, and of speech are ye\n both too free;\n And that thus ye should strive before me, tho' your strife be\n of _word_, not _deed_, 415\n Ill beseemeth both king and vassal, so hearken my word, and\n heed.'\n\n This befell in the hall of the palace, 'neath the eyes of his\n sister fair,\n And Gawain stood beside the maiden, and heroes and knights\n were there.\n Quoth the king to his gentle sister, 'Now take thou with thee\n thy guest\n And the Landgrave, while I bethink me the word that shall\n 'seem me best. 420\n And all ye who wish well unto me, shall follow and give me\n rede.'\n Quoth the maid, 'Of good faith seek counsel, for better\n 'twill serve thy need!'\n Gat the king to his council-chamber; the king's daughter had\n comrades three,\n Cousin, and guest, and beside them black care bare them\n company.\n Gawain, as right well beseemed her, by the hand to her bower\n she led. 425\n And she quoth, 'Now shall all lands rue it if here thou shalt\n be ill-sped!'\n And the son of King Lot, Sir Gawain, with the maiden went\n hand in hand,\n And none thought them shame, for so gracious was the custom\n of that fair land.\n\n So passed they unto her chamber, the queen and those heroes\n twain,\n And that none 'gainst her will should enter was the care of\n her chamberlain. 430\n Only her bower maidens as befitted them there might be,\n And the queen, in all love and honour, her guest tended\n royally.\n And the Landgrave in naught gainsaid her, for belike did he\n bear a part\n In the fear for her guest's well-doing that lay dark on the\n maiden's heart.\n So the twain with the queen abode there till the strife of\n the day was o'er, 435\n And the night and the hour of feasting had come in their\n course once more.\n Then the slender maidens bare them sweet drinks, and the wine\n so red,\n And with fish and fowl in plenty, I ween, was the table\n spread.\n Fair and white was the bread to look on, and the Landgrave\n and Knight Gawain,\n Who had passed thro' such deadly peril, to taste of the food\n were fain. 440\n And each as the queen might bid him ate that which should\n please him best,\n And no lack did they find, for right queenly the maid did\n entreat her guest,\n And vainly the heroes prayed her to cease from her kindly\n care.\n Of the many who knelt before them no maid but was young and\n fair;\n Yea, fair with the opening beauty of the rose that is yet\n unblown, 445\n And soft lay their locks as the feathers of a falcon the\n knight hath flown.\n\n Now list, ere they close the council, to the rede they would\n rede the king\n And wise were the men who, wisely, good counsel in need\n should bring;\n And each spake as his mind should bid him, and that which his\n heart deemed best,\n And they turned the thing hither and thither, till the king\n thus his speech addrest: 450\n\n And he spake, 'One of late fought with me, as on venture bent\n I rode\n In the wood L\u00e6htamreis--too proudly, perchance, I my steed\n bestrode,\n For a knight, who o'er great my fame deemed, in joust smote\n me such a blow\n That, behind my gallant charger, on the greensward he laid me\n low.\n And this oath must I swear unto him, in search of the Grail\n to ride, 455\n And my knightly pledge I gave him, were it other, I there had\n died.\n Now give me, I pray, your counsel, for 'gainst death was no\n other shield\n But to swear as my victor bade me, and, as knight, to a\n knight to yield!'\n\n 'Yea, mighty and strong that hero,--nor sware I that oath\n alone,\n But he bade me, as true man truly, when a year should have\n come and gone, 460\n And the Grail I still were seeking, to ride unto Pelrap\u00e4r\n To the queen who the crown there weareth, the child of King\n Tampent\u00e4re.\n And there, as I looked upon her, I should yield me unto her\n grace;\n And from him should I bear this message in the day that I\n sought her face.\n He would say, \"An she thought upon him 'twas his joy and his\n labour's meed, 465\n His hand from the King Klamid\u00e9 aforetime her land had\n freed.\"'\n\n Then the speech to the end they hearkened; and Liddamus spake\n this word,\n 'Give me leave to speak, ye shall follow, Sir Knights, when\n my rede is heard,\n For the oath that perforce thou swarest, its fulfiller shall\n be Gawain,\n And he, captive, his wings shall flutter in the snare wherein\n _thou_ wast ta'en. 470\n For here, where we stand to hearken, shall he swear us the\n Grail to win,\n And then of free will let him ride hence; for I deem men\n would count it sin\n Were he slain in thine house--Nay, me-seemeth 'twere better\n to let him live,\n For but ill would it please thy sister an thou didst not her\n knight forgive!\n Sore stress at our hands hath he suffered, and he now to his\n death shall ride; 475\n For far as the far sea's water shall circle the earth so wide\n There standeth no Burg so mighty as Monsalv\u00e4sch, its towers\n shall fear\n No foeman, and strait the pathway that wendeth its walls\n anear,\n And sore dangers that road encompass--Let him slumber in\n peace this night,\n And the word that we deem the wisest shall be told him with\n morning light!' 480\n Right well did the counsel please them, and ended, I ween,\n the strife,\n And Gawain, so the venture telleth, thus won at their hands\n his life.\n\n So they tended the dauntless hero right well thro' the hours\n of night;\n From the Mass came the folk on the morrow when the noontide\n hour waxed bright,\n And the hall was thronged and crowded with townsfolk and\n warriors good, 485\n When before the king, as they counselled, his foeman, Sir\n Gawain, stood.\n To naught other would he compel him than to that which ye\n late did hear.\n Now see ye the gentle maiden as she drew with her knight\n anear,\n And her uncle's son came with her, and many a hero brave\n Of the king's men were fain to follow, and thus fair escort\n gave. 490\n Then the queen led Gawain to her brother with slender hand\n and white,\n And a chaplet of fair flowers woven she bare on her locks of\n light,\n Fair the flowers, yet the maid was fairer, and no blossom\n around her head\n But waxed pale and dim, if 'twas mated with her lips of\n glowing red.\n And he whom of true heart gently she kissed, as beseemed a\n maid, 495\n Such lances for her had broken as had wasted a woodland\n shade.\n\n Now hearken to me and heed me, as with gracious words I'ld\n greet\n Antikonie, free from falsehood, a maiden pure and sweet.\n In such wise did she ever bear her that never a doubting\n word,\n Were one fain to sing her praises, from the lips of men was\n heard; 500\n For no heart but wished her gladness, and no mouth but spake\n her free\n From all thought of guile--Far-reaching, as a falcon's eye\n can see,\n Shone the light of her gracious presence, as the light of a\n balsam rare\n That burneth, and sheddeth perfume, and sweeteneth the\n scented air.\n And her will was ever gracious, as the will of a maid should\n be, 505\n And she spake to her royal brother of a true heart right\n maidenly:\n\n 'I bring here to thee, my brother, the guest thou didst bid\n me tend,\n And I would thou shouldst well entreat him, as befitting my\n knight and friend--\n For better shall that become thee, to bear thee as brother\n true,\n Than to feel the world's hate, or to teach me to hate thee,\n who hate ne'er knew.' 510\n\n Quoth the king, 'Nay then, my sister, an I may, so stands my\n will,\n Thou shalt give me here thy counsel, for I think me I did but\n ill,\n And stained thereby mine honour, and dimmed my knightly fame;\n And I deem me but little worthy that thou shouldst me as\n brother claim.\n E'en if all lands should do my bidding at thy prayer would I\n yield them all, 515\n Lest that sorrow of sorrows greatest, thine hatred, on me\n should fall!\n And honour and joy were ended an I said to thy pleading,\n Nay--\n Sir Gawain, I here entreat thee, since for fame thou didst\n ride this way,\n An thou knightly fame wouldst honour, so help me, that I may\n win\n Anew from my sister favour, and forgiveness for this my sin. 520\n Far liefer were I to pardon the wrong thou hast done to me\n Than to lose her, my sweetest sister--Now list what thy task\n shall be,\n Do thou swear to me here that truly thou wilt strive, as I\n erst was fain\n To strive, for the Grail's fair kingdom, and the honour thou\n there shalt gain.'\n\n In such wise the strife was ended, Sir Gawain far hence must\n ride, 525\n And with sword and spear do battle, and woe for the Grail\n abide.\n And the Landgrave forgave his monarch the wrong that he did\n his word\n When he brake his pledge unto Gawain--and no prince of the\n land but heard.\n\n Then their swords they ungirt, and they hung them in their\n place on the castle wall--\n And the squires of Gawain came swiftly, and, joyful, he\n hailed them all, 530\n For not one in strife was wounded--for a man of the Burger\n folk,\n Ere the battle waxed hot, had claimed them, and wise were the\n words he spoke,\n And their peace he prayed from the foemen, and he held them\n awhile in ward,\n Were they French, or from land of the Breton, till again to\n their rightful lord\n He might send them in peace--Some were children, and some\n were lads strong and young-- 535\n And glad were their hearts when they saw him, and awhile on\n his neck they hung,\n And weeping they kissed Sir Gawain, yet no sorrow I ween was\n there,\n But from joy sprang the crystal tear-drops that ran o'er\n their faces fair.\n\n And one came from the land of Cornwall, Count Laiz he, and\n Tinal's son;\n And a noble lad was with him whose father his death had won 540\n At Schoie-de-la-Kurt, Gandelus, the son, and Gurzgrei, the\n sire--\n (Thro' that venture full many a maiden must weep for her\n heart's desire)\n And his aunt was the maid Liass\u00e9, and fair was the lad of\n face\n And of feature, for Love had touched them, and had wrought\n them with hand of grace,\n And fain were all men to see him--Six were there those twain\n beside, 545\n Eight lads, all of noble bearing and birth, with Gawain did\n ride.\n And as kinsmen right well they loved him, and they served him\n for payment fair;\n What payment gave he? Meed of honour their guerdon, and\n tender care!\n Then Gawain quoth unto the children, ''Tis well, for I now\n have seen,\n Fair kinsmen, that ye had mourned me, if slain I perchance\n had been, 550\n (And well might he see their sorrow, for as yet they mourned\n full sore,)\n Where were ye in hour of battle? Much sorrow for ye I bore.'\n Then they answered, and none spake falsely, 'As thou sat'st\n in the high hall place\n A hawk flew astray, and we ran thence, and joined for awhile\n the chase.'\n\n Then all they who sat or stood there, nor ceased for awhile\n their gaze, 555\n Saw well that Gawain was a true knight, and a man whom all\n men might praise;\n Then the king gave the leave he prayed for, and he spake unto\n all farewell,\n Save the queen alone, and the Landgrave, he whom men called\n Kingrimursel.\n For the queen took the twain, and the children who followed\n as Gawain's squires,\n And she led them where gentle maidens should serve as she\n should require, 560\n And in peace, as became fair maidens, each maid did her\n lady's will,\n And fair were the hands and gracious that did gracious tasks\n fulfil.\n\n Straightway when the meal was ended Gawain from the feast\n uprose,\n Thus Kiot hath told the story--and as blossom from root\n up-grows,\n So afresh from a true heart's true faith did sorrow spring\n forth amain-- 565\n Quoth the hero unto the maiden, 'Now, Lady, an God be fain\n To leave to me life and wisdom, wherever my way I take\n True service, true knight befitting, will I do for thy gentle\n sake.\n The rede did I hear and hearken that spake thee of falsehood\n free,\n And thy fame o'er the fame of all maidens shall high as the\n heavens be. 570\n And Heaven Itself shall bless thee, and thy gifts all be\n gifts of God!\n Now, Lady, thy leave I crave here, since 'tis time on my way\n I rode.\n Give me leave, then, and let me ride hence, for I ween for\n the future days\n Shalt thou be thine own best defender, and thy virtue shall\n crown thy praise!'\n\n Then sorrow of heart was her portion that the knight thus her\n side must leave, 575\n Sore she wept, and her gentle maidens awhile with her grief\n must grieve.\n And the queen she spake out freely, 'An more I had done for\n thee,\n Then my joy had o'ercome my sorrow, yet better it might not\n be;\n Little peace for thee here might blossom--but, believe me, be\n ill thy share,\n Or should deeds of knighthood lead thee where sorrow thou\n needs must bear, 580\n Then, Sir Gawain, my heart findeth portion in thy lot, be it\n loss or gain!'\n On his mouth, with her red lips glowing, the maiden she\n kissed Gawain.\n Then joy fled afar from the hero, and sorrow hath pierced his\n heart,\n Too early the twain they deemed it, from each other for aye\n to part.\n\n Meantime had his squires bethought them, and his steed to the\n palace brought, 585\n Where the boughs of a mighty linden might shadow the outer\n court;\n And the Landgrave's folk they sought him, and together they\n took their way\n Without the walls; ere they parted this grace would Sir\n Gawain pray,\n Since his squires might no more fare with him, that the\n Landgrave with them in ward\n Should ride forthwith unto Beaurosch, 'There Scherules the\n Burg doth guard, 590\n Thou shalt pray him that these fair children to Dianasdron he\n bring\n Where many a Breton dwelleth, and shall yield them unto the\n king\n Or to Guinevere, his Lady'--So sware him Kingrimursel,\n And, with kindly words and courteous, to Sir Gawain he bade\n 'Farewell.'\n Short the space ere both steed and rider were clad in their\n mail of might, 595\n Kinsmen and squires, he kissed them, and alone rode that\n gallant knight,\n For, as this his oath had bade him, to the Grail must his\n pathway wend,\n And many a pain and peril must he know ere his task should\n end.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK IX\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBook IX. In the opening the spirit of adventure craves admission\n to the\nheart of the poet, who would fain learn from her tidings of\n Parzival.\nThe venture telleth how the hero had ridden long in doubt and\n despair,\nand knew not the days of his wanderings. How he met again with\n Sigun\u00e9\nand came to the forest of Monsalv\u00e4sch, where he fought with a\n Knight of\nthe Grail. How, on Good Friday, Parzival met with a pilgrim\n knight who\nreproached him for bearing arms at that Holy Tide, and bade him\n seek\nthe hermit Trevrezent.\n\nHow Parzival came to the hermit's cell, and spake of his wrath\n against\nGod, of his sorrow for his wife, and of his search for the Grail.\n How\nTrevrezent told him wherein he had sinned, and showed him the way\n of\nsalvation.\n\nHow the hermit farther revealed to him the mysteries of the\n Grail, of\nthe Bleeding Lance, and the knives of silver; how he told him of\n the\nwound of Anfortas, of the race of the Grail Kings, and how\n Parzival\nhimself was nephew to Anfortas and Trevrezent. How Parzival\n confessed\nthat it was he who came to the Grail Castle and failed to ask the\nquestion; how Trevrezent spake to him words of comfort and\n counsel, and\nabsolved him from his sin; and how the two parted in sorrow.\n\n BOOK IX\n\n TREVREZENT\n\n 'Ope the portal!' 'To whom? Who art thou?' 'In thine heart\n would I find a place!'\n 'Nay! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be\n the space!'\n 'What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my\n presence be,\n Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels I'll tell to\n thee!'\n Is it thou, then, O Dame Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival, 5\n What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the Grail\n Hath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the\n maidens fair\n That the path of his far wayfarings the knight from their\n side must bear.\n So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he\n abide to-day?\n Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps\n stray? 10\n Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft,\n Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be\n left?\n His renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and\n thin?\n Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand\n shall win.\n Hath he seen once again Monsalv\u00e4sch, and Anfortas, the\n mournful king, 15\n Whose heart was with sorrow laden? Of thy pity swift comfort\n bring,\n And say if his woe be ended--Speak, speak for we tidings pray\n Of him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there\n to-day?\n Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret's son,\n And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his\n wanderings done? 20\n Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his\n lot, or woe?\n He hath striven, but rides he ever thro' the wide world nor\n rest doth know?\n Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o'er-long at ease?\n I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou\n shalt please!\n And this hath the venture told me--He hath ridden many a\n land, 25\n And hath sail\u00e8d many a water; and ever, before his hand,\n Were he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him,\n he fell,\n Nor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises\n tell.\n And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe must lie,\n 'Twas outweighed by his fame, and his glory uprose to the\n stars on high, 30\n And all others paled before it--In many a mighty strife\n With sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his\n life.\n And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they\n paid full dear--\n The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did\n hear,\n Sprang asunder onewhile, yet 'twas welded afresh in the\n mystic spring 35\n By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord\n did bring!\n\n Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture\n tell\n How adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,\n (But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning\n light,)\n When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering\n sight, 40\n And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er\n the brooklet's wave\n Then in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the\n hero brave,\n Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of\n God were led.\n But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy\n were sped,\n For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys\n of earth, 45\n And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief\n to birth.\n\n For he found here Schionatulander, and Sigun\u00e9, his faithful\n love,\n Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb\n above.\n Tho' but seldom Sigun\u00e9 the Duchess might hearken the Holy\n Mass,\n All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her\n days she'ld pass. 50\n And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys\n fade,\n And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a\n maid.\n\n Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to\n die,\n And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him\n tenderly.\n And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had\n Lunete braved 55\n Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her\n lady gave.\n And today may we look upon women, who never a willing ear\n Had turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked\n to hear.\n For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord\n alone,\n And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange\n service own, 60\n But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as\n true,\n Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new!\n And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as\n fair!\n And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth\n would swear.\n Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful\n she still abide, 65\n Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at\n feasting tide!\n\n Shall I joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Sigun\u00e9\n brought?\n Nay, 'twere better I speak not of it--O'er rough stones, and\n a road unwrought\n Rode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too\n near).\n He would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its\n windings hear. 70\n And he thought him, perchance, the hermit might tell of the\n unknown way,\n 'Doth one dwell here?' the voice of a maiden it was that made\n answer,'Yea!'\n As he knew 'twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his\n steed aside\n On the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too\n near did ride,\n And sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt 75\n Within such a lowly dwelling, and shame, as was meet, he\n felt.\n\n Then his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a\n fallen tree,\n And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous\n knight was he.\n Then he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place\n and road,\n And the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as 'seemed\n grief's abode. 80\n He spake, would she come to the window? and the maiden from\n prayer arose,\n She was tall as a virgin lily, and pale as a faded rose,\n And he deemed not as yet that he knew her--A shirt woven\n rough of hair,\n Next her skin, 'neath a flowing garment of grey, did the\n maiden wear,\n And sorrow was her heart's treasure, and fallen her courage\n high, 85\n And the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in\n many a sigh!\n\n Then the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did\n she courteous greet,\n In her hand did she hold her psalter, and her voice it was\n low and sweet.\n And Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of a ring of\n gold,\n For truly she bare the token she won from true love of old. 90\n And the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose\n slumbering light\n Flashed red mid the dusky shadows, as mid ashes the sparks\n glow bright.\n And the band that her head encircled was black as a mourning\n band--\n Then she spake, 'Sir Knight, 'neath the window a bench shalt\n thou see to stand,\n Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey\n will brook delay, 95\n God reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me\n this day!'\n\n Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat 'neath the\n window small,\n And he prayed her, 'Sit thou within there!' 'Nay! ne'er did\n such chance befall\n That here by a man I sat me!' Then he asked her, what did she\n here?\n That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in\n this desert drear 100\n Seemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt thou\n live,\n Since no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give?'\n\n Then she quoth, ''Tis the Grail that doth feed me, and It\n feedeth me well I ween,\n From Its marvels the sorceress Kondrie, (of her own will the\n task hath been,)\n Doth bring me each Sabbath vigil what serveth me for the\n week.' 105\n A little space she kept silence, then further the maid did\n speak:\n 'An it otherwise were with me as I would, I need little care\n For the food, since the Grail doth feed me I never too ill\n shall fare!'\n\n But he deemed that she lied unto him, and with false words\n would speak him\n fair, And, mocking, he spake,'Now, who gave thee that ring\n which I see thee wear? 110\n For ever 'twas told unto me that hermit, or man, or maid,\n Must forswear all love!'--'Now I think me, if in truth thou\n these words hast said,\n For false maiden thou sure dost hold me! Yet if falsehood I\n ever learn,\n And thou shalt be near to witness, 'twere time _then_ with\n wrath to burn!\n God knoweth, ill ways I hated, and falsehood I never knew; 115\n This troth plight that here thou seest I had from a lover\n true,\n Tho' never was love's fulfilment our portion while he might\n live,\n 'Twas the heart of maiden bade me the love of a maiden give.\n And he lieth in death beside me, and his token I ever wear\n Since the day that Duke Orilus slew him--and grief for his\n sake I bear--' 120\n\n 'And true love will I truly give him, thro' my sorrow-laden\n days,\n Such love as I sware unto him, when he, whom, all knights\n must praise,\n With sword, and shield, and helmet, and prowess of knightly\n deed\n Sought my love, and in true love's service won death for his\n glory's meed!\n Yet tho' ever a spotless maiden, my husband he, in God's\n sight, 125\n Shall be, and if thoughts God counteth as deeds then is woven\n aright\n The bond that shall ever bind us, true husband and wife as\n true,\n For his death wrought my life such sorrow as waxeth for ever\n new.\n And this ring shall, I ween, be my witness when I stand in\n the sight of God\n Of a marriage vow and the tear-drops that bedew it are tears\n of blood.' 130\n\n 'Yea, 'tis I indeed, and none other, and the hero who here\n doth lie\n Is my knight, Schionatulander, and the maid of his love am\n I!'\n Then he knew 'twas the maid Sigun\u00e9, and her sorrow it wrought\n him pain,\n And he lifted his helmet's visor ere he spake to the maid\n again.\n And she saw his head uncovered, and she saw his face gleam\n white 135\n Thro' the rust of the iron harness, and she spake to the\n gallant knight:\n 'Is it thou, Parzival, my kinsman? Dost thou seek for the\n Grail to-day?\n Or its mighty power hast thou proven? Say, whither dost wend\n thy way?'\n\n Then he spake to the noble maiden, 'Alas! for my joy is fled,\n And the Grail hath but wrought me sorrow, and mischance in\n fair fortune's stead. 140\n For the land that as king had crowned me must I leave, and\n yet more, I ween,\n The fairest of wives, and the sweetest, that ever a man hath\n seen.\n For no lovelier form I think me on earth of mankind was born,\n And I yearn for her tender greeting, and full sore for her\n love I mourn!\n And yet know I a deeper sorrow and I strive for a higher\n prize, 145\n For the day when the Burg of Monsalv\u00e4sch, and the Grail shall\n rejoice my eyes!\n Now, Sigun\u00e9, dear my cousin, thou wast all too wroth with me,\n For heavy indeed my sorrow, yet thou fain wouldst my foeman\n be!'\n\n And she quoth,'From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I\n forswear,\n For too much of thy joy lieth forfeit since the question thou\n didst forbear! 150\n And I would not too sorely grieve thee--Alas I that thou\n didst withhold\n The word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his\n griefs had told\n Who sat there as thine host beside thee--nor thine host alone\n was he,\n Anfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to\n thee!\n And thy question great bliss had brought thee, and thy\n silence had wrought thee woe, 155\n And thy spirit shall fail, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade\n thou well shalt know.\n And yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had\n sought thy side,\n Hadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did\n its host betide!'\n\n 'Yea, I did there as one who wrongeth himself; yet my cousin\n dear\n I prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen\n near. 160\n And tell me, how fares it with thee? I would sorrow for this\n thy woe\n Were my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never\n know!'\n\n Then she quoth, 'May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all\n men's woe,\n Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall\n show\n That shall lead thee once more to Monsalv\u00e4sch, and thine\n heart's bliss afresh shall spring. 165\n 'Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I\n could tidings bring\n Of whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg\n again,\n Or passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet\n she draweth rein,\n Where, from cleft in the high rock riven, the waters flow\n fresh and clear.\n It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet\n anear, 170\n And, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.' Then the knight he\n made no delay\n But farewell did he bid to the maiden; and he followed the\n woodland way,\n And fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the\n mule must choose\n Thro' the depths of the dusky thicket that its traces he soon\n must lose.\n As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again\n to-day, 175\n And joy and delight fled with It--Yea, had he but found the\n way,\n And reached once again Monsalv\u00e4sch, for better than erst of\n old\n Had he known how to ask the question--thus in sooth is the\n venture told.\n\n So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered\n head,\n And blazoned coat o'er his shining harness, full swiftly\n towards him sped! 180\n And to Parzival thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, I must deem it\n ill\n That thus thro' the woods of my monarch thou takest thy way\n at will!\n Begone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself far\n from here!\n Monsalv\u00e4sch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls\n anear,\n And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor's\n fame, 185\n Or such penance be thine, as without there, in the open, men\n _Death_ shall name!'\n And he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of\n silken sheen,\n Sharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new\n and strong I ween!\n And wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain\n should be\n His threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for\n joust was he; 190\n But many a spear as goodly had splintered 'fore Parzival,\n And he thought, 'Now, it well had chanced me, that death to\n my lot should fall\n If I rode thro' the corn upstanding--_then_ reason had he for\n wrath,\n But _now_ hath he none, since I ride here on naught but a\n woodland path,\n And I tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not\n lose its skill 195\n I will leave him such pledge for my journey as, I think me,\n shall please him ill!'\n\n Then they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged\n them with spur and rein,\n As the bolt from the bow of the archer so swift flew those\n heroes twain,\n And the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly\n fray\n Unscathed had Parzival ridden, and e'en so should it chance\n to-day. 200\n (Unto skill and the lust of battle must his father's son be\n heir.)\n His lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman's helm\n struck fair,\n And it smote him where men in jousting their shield are wont\n to hold,\n And down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the\n Templar bold.\n And the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a\n rocky dell, 205\n Tho' couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered not over\n well.\n\n But the victor's steed sped onward, and in vain would he\n check its flight\n Ere it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death\n the knight.\n A cedar o'erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast,\n (Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at\n last, 210\n He hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by his\n own hand)\n His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last\n their stand:\n Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay\n dead,\n Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety\n fled.\n Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from\n Parzival? 215\n Far better at home in Monsalv\u00e4sch had he fared with the\n wondrous Grail!\n To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of\n the Templar stood,\n For down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the\n war-horse good.\n As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its\n master fell,\n Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please\n him well. 220\n Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost\n he won--\n Nor L\u00e4helein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e'er had run!\n Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of\n Gurnemanz).\n Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance,\n Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalv\u00e4sch, yet one grief\n must vex his soul, 235\n He found not the Grail--Ever further he rode, further fled\n the goal!\n\n Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet\n befell,\n Tho' the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since\n Sir Parzival\n Had met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye\n before--\n One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho' thin was the\n cloak it bore 230\n Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time\n of frost;\n As he rode thro' the depths of a woodland by a knight was his\n pathway crossed,\n And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was\n bright and fair,\n And his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did\n bear.\n And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair\n grey, 235\n For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their\n way.\n And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men's eyes\n are fain to see,\n In like garments they followed barefoot, e'en as pilgrims are\n wont to be.\n\n Then our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his\n lowly way,\n And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips\n that day. 240\n And a prince of the land he seemed him--By each maiden a\n brachet ran,\n And with humble mien and reverent paced master alike and man.\n For both knight and squire they followed on this holy\n pilgrimage,\n And some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent\n low with age.\n\n But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise, 245\n In fair raiment, rich and costly, he rode in right knightly\n guise,\n And proudly he ware his harness, and unlike were the twain I\n ween,\n The old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his\n armour's sheen!\n Then swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway\n side,\n For fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the\n knight replied. 250\n But a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy Tide\n Should have fail\u00e8d to give due honour, but in warlike gear\n should ride.\n For better would it befit him unarm\u00e8d this day to greet,\n Or like them to walk barefooted, and in garb for a sinner\n meet!\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Nay, I know not what the time of the year\n may be, 255\n Or how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly\n flee,\n How the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot\n such lore!\n Of old time I served a master, and _God_ was the name He\n bore.\n But He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking\n gave,\n Tho' ne'er had my heart turned from Him--Men said, 'If from\n God ye crave 260\n For succour, He sure will give it;' but I deem well they\n spake a lie,\n For He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny!'\n\n Quoth the grey-haired knight, 'Dost thou mean Him who was\n once of a Maiden born?\n Dost believe that a Man for men's sake He died on the cross\n this morn,\n And this day for His sake we hallow? Then such garb becomes\n thee ill! 265\n For to-day all men call Good Friday, and the world it\n rejoiceth still\n O'er the day that her chains were riven; tho' she mourneth\n her Saviour's pain.\n Speak, knowest thou of faith more faithful than the faith God\n hath kept with men,\n Since He hung on the cross for men's sake? Such woe as He\n bare for thee,\n Sir Knight, sure must work thee sorrow, since baptized thou\n shalt surely be! 270\n For _our_ sin His life was forfeit, or else had mankind been\n lost,\n And Hell as his prey had held us, and Hell's torments had\n paid sin's cost.\n Sir Knight, if thou be not heathen, thou shalt honour this\n Holy Day--\n So do thou as here I counsel, ride thou on this woodland way,\n For near here a hermit dwelleth, as thy speech, so his rede\n shall be, 275\n And if ruth for ill deed thou showest of thy sin will he\n speak thee free!'\n\n Then out quoth the old man's daughter, 'Nay, father, but\n speak not so,\n For too chill and cold is the morning, thou shalt bid him no\n further go.\n Far better to bid him warm him his steel-clad limbs, for\n strong\n And fair shall he be to look on, and the way is both cold and\n long. 280\n Methinks were he thrice as mighty he would freeze ere his\n goal he reach,\n And here hast thou tent for shelter, and viands for all and\n each.\n Came King Arthur and all his vassals thou wouldst still have\n enough I trow,\n So do thou as host so kindly, and good-will to this young\n knight show!'\n Quoth the grey-haired sire, 'My daughters, Sir Knight, here\n give counsel good, 285\n Each year, with tent of pilgrim, I wend thro' this lonely\n wood.\n If warm or cold be the season I care not, as year by year\n The time of our dear Lord's Passion draweth once more anear,\n He rewardeth His servant's service--Sir Knight, what I, for\n His sake,\n Brought here, as my guest, right willing, I pray thee from me\n to take!' 290\n\n And kindly they spake, the maidens, and they bade the knight\n to stay,\n And with gracious mien they prayed naught might drive him\n from them away.\n And tho' cold was the frost and bitter, and it wrought not as\n summer's heat,\n Yet Parzival saw their lips glow so red, and soft, and sweet.\n (Tho' they wept for the death of the Saviour, such sorrow\n became them well.) 295\n And here, had I cause for vengeance, an such happy chance\n befell,\n I never would speak them guiltless, but a kiss should their\n penance be,\n Nor against their will would I take it, of good-will should\n they give it me!\n For women shall aye be women, and tho' brave be the knight,\n and strong,\n Yet I ween is he oft the vanquished, nor the strife it\n endureth long! 300\n\n With sweet words, and ways so gentle, they ever the knight\n would pray,\n Children alike and parents, and fain would they have him\n stay:\n Yet he thought, 'It were best I leave them, for e'en if I\n turn aside\n All too fair methinks are these maidens, 'twere unfitting\n that _I_ should ride\n While _they_ by my side walk barefoot--And 'tis better that\n we should part, 305\n Since ever I bear Him hatred Whom they worship with lowly\n heart,\n And they look for His aid, Who ever hath turn\u00e8d His face from\n me,\n Nor from sorrow hath He withheld me, but hath wrought with me\n heavily!'\n 'Knight and Lady,' he quoth, 'I think me 'twere better I\n leave should pray,\n May good fortune be yours, and blessing, and fulness of joy\n alway, 310\n And may you, ye gentle maidens, find reward in your courtesy,\n Since so well ye had thought to serve me, fair leave would I\n pray from ye!'\n He greeted them, low they bowed them, and greeted the knight\n again,\n Nor might they withhold their sorrow, for parting aye\n bringeth pain!\n\n So the son of Herzeleide rode onward, well taught was he 315\n In all manly skill and courage, in mercy and purity;\n And his mother had aye bequeathed him her faithful heart and\n true--\n Yet ever his soul waxed sadder, and there sprang up thoughts\n anew\n Of the might of the Maker of all things, Who hath made this\n earth of naught,\n How He dealeth with all creation, and still on His power he\n thought 320\n 'How might it yet be if God sent me that which brought to an\n end my woe?\n If ever a knight He favoured, if ever a knight might know\n His payment for service done Him--if He thinketh His aid they\n earn\n Who dauntless shall wield their weapons, and ne'er from a\n foeman turn,\n Let Him aid me, who bear unstain\u00e8d shield and sword as befits\n a man, 325\n If to-day be His Day of Redemption, let Him help me, if help\n He _can_.'\n\n Backward he turned his bridle on the road he had ridden\n before,\n And the knight and his children stood there, and mourned for\n the parting sore.\n And the maidens, true and gentle, gazed after the passing\n knight,\n And his heart spake, he fain had seen them once more those\n maidens bright. 330\n\n Then he spake, 'Is God's power so mighty that He guideth upon\n their way\n The steed alike and the rider, then His hand may I praise\n to-day!\n If God sendeth help from heaven, then let Him my charger show\n The goal which shall bless my journey, so shall I the token\n know.\n Now, go thou as God shall lead thee!' and bridle and bit he\n laid 335\n Free on the neck of his charger and spurred it adown the\n glade.\n\n Towards Fontaine-Sauvage the road led, and the chapel where\n once he sware\n The oath that should clear Jeschut\u00e9--A holy man dwelt there,\n And Trevrezent men called him, and ever on Monday morn\n Poor was his fare, and no richer it waxed as the week wore\n on. 340\n Nor wine nor bread he tasted, nor food that with blood was\n red,\n Fish nor flesh, but his life so holy on the herb of the\n ground was fed.\n And ever his thoughts, God-guided, were turning to Heaven's\n land,\n And by fasting the wiles of the Devil he deemed he might best\n withstand.\n\n And to Parzival the mystery of the Grail should he now\n reveal-- 345\n And he, who of this hath asked me, and since silence my lips\n must seal\n Was wroth with me as his foeman, his anger might naught\n avail,\n Since I did but as Kiot bade me, for he would I should hide\n the tale,\n And tell unto none the secret, till the venture so far were\n sped\n That the hidden should be made open, and the marvel of men be\n read. 350\n\n For Kiot of old, the master whom men spake of in days of\n yore,\n Far off in Toledo's city, found in Arabic writ the lore\n By men cast aside and forgotten, the tale of the wondrous\n Grail;\n But first must he learn the letters, nor black art might\n there avail.\n By the grace of baptismal waters, by the light of our Holy\n Faith, 355\n He read the tale, else 'twere hidden; for never, the story\n saith,\n Might heathen skill have shown us the virtue that hidden lies\n In this mighty Grail, or Its marvels have opened to Christian\n eyes.\n\n 'Twas a heathen, Flegetanis, who had won for his wisdom fame,\n And saw many a wondrous vision, (from Israel's race he came, 360\n And the blood of the kings of old-time, of Solomon did he\n share,)\n He wrote in the days long vanished, ere we as a shield might\n bear\n The cross of our Holy Baptism 'gainst the craft and the wiles\n of Hell,\n And he was the first of earth's children the lore of the\n Grail to tell.\n By his father's side a heathen, a calf he for God did hold, 365\n How wrought the devil such folly, on a folk so wise, of old?\n And the Highest Who knoweth all wonders, why stretched He not\n forth His Hand\n To the light of His truth to turn them? For who may His power\n withstand!\n\n And the heathen, Flegetanis, could read in the heavens high\n How the stars roll on their courses, how they circle the\n silent sky, 370\n And the time when their wandering endeth--and the life and\n the lot of men\n He read in the stars, and strange secrets he saw, and he\n spake again\n Low, with bated breath and fearful, of the thing that is\n called the Grail,\n In a cluster of stars was it written, the name, nor their\n lore shall fail.\n And he quoth thus, 'A host of angels this marvel to earth\n once bore, 375\n But too pure for earth's sin and sorrow the heaven they\n sought once more,\n And the sons of baptized men hold It, and guard It with\n humble heart,\n And the best of mankind shall those knights be who have in\n such service part'\n\n Then Kiot my master read this, the tale Flegetanis told,\n And he sought for the name of the people, in Latin books of\n old, 380\n Who of God were accounted worthy for this wondrous Grail to\n care,\n Who were true and pure in their dealings and a lowly heart\n might bear.\n And in Britain, and France, and Ireland thro' the chronicles\n he sought\n Till at length, in the land of Anjou, the story to light was\n brought.\n There, in true and faithful record, was it written of\n Mazadan, 385\n And the heroes, the sons of his body, and further the story\n ran,\n How Titurel, the grandsire, left his kingdom to Frimutel,\n And at length to his son, Anfortas, the Grail and Its heirdom\n fell:\n That his sister was Herzeleide, and with Gamuret she wed\n And bare him for son the hero whose wanderings ye now have\n read. 390\n For he rideth upon a journey that shall lead him a road\n unknown,\n Tho' the grey knight but now had wended his way from the\n fountain lone.\n\n And he knew again the meadow, tho' now the snow lay white\n On the ground that erst was blooming with flowers of\n springtide bright.\n 'Twas before the rocky hillside where his hand must wipe away 395\n The stain from Jeschut\u00e9's honour, and her husband's wrath\n allay.\n Yet still the road led onward, to Fontaine-Sauvage, the name\n Of the goal that should end his journey and his hermit host\n he came.\n\n Then out spake the holy hermit, 'Alas, why doest thou so,\n Sir Knight? at this Holy Season 'tis ill thus armed to go. 400\n Dost thou bear perchance this harness thro' strife and danger\n dared?\n Or hast thou unharm\u00e8d ridden, and in peace on thy way hast\n fared?\n Other robe had beseemed thee better! List not to the voice of\n pride,\n But draw thy rein here beside me, and with me for a space\n abide.\n Not all too ill shalt thou fare here, thou canst warm thee\n beside my fire. 405\n Dost thou seek here for knightly venture, and dost guerdon of\n love desire,\n If the power of true Love constrain thee, then love Him who\n Love may claim!\n As this day to His Love beareth witness, be His service\n to-day thine aim,\n And serve for the love of fair women, if it please thee,\n another day;\n But now get thee from off thy charger, and awhile from thy\n wanderings stay.' 410\n\n Then Parzival, e'en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the\n ground;\n Humbly he stood before him, as he told how he folk had found\n Who had told of the hermit's dwelling, and the counsel he\n wisely gave,\n And he spake, 'I am one who hath sinn\u00e8d, and rede at thy lips\n I crave!'\n As he spake the hermit answered,'Right gladly I'll counsel\n thee, 415\n But, say, what folk hast thou met with? Who showed thee thy\n way to me?\n 'In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he\n spake,\n And kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to\n take,\n On his track my steed came hither.' Then answered the hermit\n old,\n ''Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told. 420\n A prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis'\n king\n Hath taken to wife--Fairer maidens no mother to earth did\n bring\n Than those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon\n thy road,\n Of a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode!'\n\n Then Parzival spake to the hermit, 'Now say, when thou saw'st\n me here, 425\n Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no\n touch of fear?'\n Quoth the hermit,'Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for\n stag or bear\n Have I feared than I feared a man's face, in sooth shalt thou\n be aware\n I fear me for no man living! Both cunning and skill have I,\n And tho' I were loath to vaunt me, yet I ne'er to this life\n did fly 430\n For fear, as beseems a maiden! For never my heart did quail\n When I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne'er did my courage\n fail,\n In the days when such things became me, in the days when I\n too might fight,\n I was arm\u00e8d as thou art arm\u00e8d, like thee did I ride, a\n knight!\n And I strove for high love's rewarding, and many an evil\n thought 435\n With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I\n wrought\n To win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,\n And my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no\n more.'\n\n 'Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there 'neath the rocky\n wall\n Thy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall\n fall, 440\n Will gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may\n be,\n Yet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too\n ill with me!'\n But Parzival deemed that surely 'twas unfitting a hermit old\n Should thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from\n his hand withhold,\n 'Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive 'gainst thine\n host's good-will, 445\n Let not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my\n counsel still.'\n In this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did\n the knight,\n And the charger he led 'neath the hillside where but seldom\n did sun-rays light.\n In sooth 'twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed\n would stall,\n And thro' it, from heights o'erhanging, foamed ever a\n water-fall. 450\n\n The snow lay beneath our hero, no weakling was he, I ween,\n Else the frost and the cold of his harness o'er-much for his\n strength had been.\n To a cavern the hermit led him where no breath of wind might\n blow,\n And a fire of coals had warmed it, and burned with a ruddy\n glow.\n And here might the guest refresh him by the fire and a\n taper's light, 455\n (Well strewn was the ground with fuel,) then swiftly the\n gallant knight\n Laid from off him his heavy armour, and warmed his limbs so\n cold,\n And his skin in the light glowed ruddy, and his face might\n the host behold.\n He might well be of wandering weary, for never a trodden way\n Nor a roof save the stars of heaven had he known for many a\n day. 460\n In the daylight the wood had he ridden, and his couch, it had\n been the ground:\n 'Twas well that he here a shelter, and a kindly host had\n found!\n\n Then his host cast a robe around him, and he took him by his\n right hand,\n And he led him into a cavern where his Missal did open stand.\n And as fitted the Holy Season the Altar was stripped and\n bare; 465\n And the shrine--Parzival must know it, 'twas the spot where\n he once did swear\n With true hand, true oath and faithful, that ended Jeschut\u00e9's\n woe,\n And turn\u00e8d her tears to laughter, and taught her fresh joy to\n know!\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Well I know it this chapel and shrine! Of\n yore,\n As hither my wanderings led me, an oath on that shrine I\n swore; 470\n And a spear, with fair colours blazoned, that did here by the\n altar stand\n I bare hence, and in sooth, I think me, right well did it\n serve my hand!\n Men say it much honour brought me, yet I wot not if it be so,\n For in thoughts of my wife had I lost me, and naught of the\n thing I know.\n Yet, unwitting, two jousts had I ridden, and two foemen I\n overthrew, 475\n In those days all men gave me honour, nor sorrow nor shame I\n knew.\n Now, alas! is my sorrow greater than ever to man befell!\n Say, when did I bear the spear hence? The days of my\n wanderings tell!'\n\n 'It was Taurian,' quoth the hermit, 'who his spear in my care\n did leave,\n And much did he mourn its losing, and I with the knight must\n grieve. 480\n And four years and a half and three days shall have passed\n since we lost the spear,\n Sir Knight, an my word thou doubtest, behold! it is written\n here!'\n Then he showed unto him in the Psalter how the time it had\n come and gone,\n And the weeks and the years he read him that silent and swift\n had flown.\n And he spake, 'Now first do I learn them, the days that I\n aimless stray, 485\n And the weeks and the years that have vanished, since my joy\n hath been reft away.'\n And he spake, 'Now indeed me-seemeth that my bliss it was but\n a dream,\n For heavy the load of sorrow that so long hath my portion\n been!'\n\n 'And, Sir Host, I yet more would tell thee, where cloister or\n church shall be\n And men unto God give honour, there no eye hath looked on me, 490\n And naught but strife have I sought me, tho' the time as thou\n sayst be long,\n For I against God bear hatred, and my wrath ever waxeth\n strong.\n For my sorrow and shame hath He cherished, and He watched\n them greater grow\n Till too high they waxed, and my gladness, yet living, He\n buried low!\n And I think were God fain to help me other anchor my joy had\n found 495\n Than this, which so deep hath sunk it, and with sorrow hath\n closed it round.\n A man's heart is mine, and sore wounded, it acheth, and\n acheth still,\n Yet once was it glad and joyous, and free from all thought of\n ill!\n Ere sorrow her crown of sorrow, thorn-woven, with stern hand\n pressed\n On the honour my hand had won me o'er many a foeman's crest! 500\n And I do well to lay it on Him, the burden of this my shame,\n Who can help if He will, nor withholdeth the aid that men\n fain would claim,\n But me alone, hath He helped not, whate'er men of Him may\n speak,\n But ever He turneth from me, and His wrath on my head doth\n wreak!'\n\n Then the hermit beheld him sighing, 'Sir Knight, thou shalt\n put away 505\n Such madness, and trust God better, for His help will He\n never stay.\n And His aid to us here be given, yea, alike unto me and thee.\n But' twere best thou shouldst sit beside me, and tell here\n thy tale to me,\n And make to me free confession--How first did this woe begin?\n What foe shall have worked such folly that God should thine\n hatred win? 510\n Yet first would I pray thee, courteous, to hearken the word I\n say,\n For fain would I speak Him guiltless, ere yet thou thy plaint\n shall lay\n 'Gainst Him, Who denieth never unto sinful man His aid,\n But ever hath answered truly, who truly to Him hath prayed.'\n\n 'Tho' a layman I was yet ever in books might I read and learn 515\n How men, for His help so faithful, should ne'er from His\n service turn.\n Since aid He begrudged us never, lest our soul unto Hell\n should fall,\n And as God Himself shall be faithful, be _thou_ faithful\n whate'er befall;\n For false ways He ever hateth--and thankful we aye should be\n When we think of the deed, so gracious, once wrought of His\n love so free! 520\n For _our_ sake the Lord of Heaven in the likeness of man was\n made,\n And Truth is His name, and His nature, nor from Truth shall\n He e'er have strayed.\n And this shalt thou know most surely, God breaketh His faith\n with _none_.\n Teach thy thoughts ne'er from Him to waver, since Himself and\n His ways are One!'\n\n 'Wouldst thou force thy God with thine anger? He who heareth\n that thou hast sworn 525\n Hatred against thy Maker, he shall hold thee of wit forlorn!\n Of Lucifer now bethink thee, and of those who must share his\n fall,\n Bethink thee, the angel nature was free from all taint of\n gall,\n Say, whence sprang that root of evil which spurred them to\n endless strife,\n And won its reward in Hell's torments, and the death of an\n outcast life? 530\n Ashtaroth, Belcimon, and Belat, Rhadamant, yea, and many\n more!\n Pride and anger the host of Heaven with Hell's colours have\n painted o'er!'\n\n 'When Lucifer and his angels thus sped on their downward way,\n To fill their place, a wonder God wrought from the earth and\n clay:\n The son of His hands was Adam, and from flesh of Adam, Eve 535\n He brought, and for Eve's transgression, I ween, all the\n world doth grieve.\n For she hearkened not her Creator, and she robbed us of our\n bliss.\n And two sons sprang forth from her body, and the elder he\n wrought amiss,\n Since envy so worked upon him that from wrath there sprang\n disgrace,\n And of maidenhood did he rob her who was mother of all his\n race! 540\n Here many a one doth question, an the tale be to him unknown,\n How might such a thing have chanc\u00e8d? It came but by sin\n alone!'\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Now, I think me that never such thing might\n be,\n And 'twere better thou shouldst keep silence, than tell such\n a tale to me!\n For who should have borne the father, whose son, as thou\n sayest, reft 545\n Maidenhood from his father's mother? Such riddle were better\n left!'\n But the hermit again made answer, 'Now thy doubt will I put\n away,\n O'er my falsehood thou canst bemoan thee if the thing be not\n truth I say,\n For the _Earth_ was Adam's mother, of the _Earth_ was Adam\n fed,\n And I ween, tho' a man she bare here, yet still was the Earth\n a maid. 550\n And here will I read the riddle, he who robbed her of\n maidenhood\n Was Cain the son of Adam, who in wrath shed his brother's\n blood:\n For as on the Earth, so stainless, the blood of the guiltless\n fell,\n Her maidenhood fled for ever! And true is the tale I tell.\n For wrath of man and envy, thro' Cain did they wake to life, 555\n And ever from that day forward thro' his sin there ariseth\n strife.'\n\n 'Nor on earth shall aught be purer than a maiden undefiled,\n Think how pure must be a maiden, since God was a Maiden's\n Child!\n Two men have been born of maidens, and God hath the likeness\n ta'en\n Of the son of the first Earth-Maiden, since to help us He aye\n was fain. 560\n Thus grief alike and gladness from the seed of Adam spring,\n Since He willed to be Son of Adam, Whose praises the angels\n sing.\n And yet have we sin as our birthright, and sin's pain must we\n ever bear,\n Nor its power may we flee! Yet pity He feeleth for our\n despair,\n Whose Strength is aye linked with Mercy, and with Mercy goes\n hand in hand, 565\n And for man, as a Man, He suffered, and did falsehood by\n truth withstand.'\n\n 'No longer be wroth with thy Maker! If thou wouldst not thy\n soul were lost--\n And here for thy sin do penance, nor longer thus rashly\n boast,\n For he who, with words untam\u00e8d, is fain to avenge his wrong,\n His own mouth shall, I ween, speak his judgment ere ever the\n time be long. 570\n Learn faith from the men of old-time, whose rede ever waxeth\n new,\n For Plato alike and the Sibyls in their day spake words so\n true,\n And long years ere the time had ripened His coming they did\n foretell\n Who made for our sin's Atonement, and drew us from depths of\n Hell.\n God's Hand from those torments took us, and God's Love lifted\n us on high, 575\n But they who His love disdain\u00e8d, they yet in Hell's clutches\n lie!'\n\n 'From the lips of the whole world's Lover came a message of\n love and peace,\n (For He is a Light all-lightening, and never His faith doth\n cease,)\n And he to whom love He showeth, findeth aye in that Love his\n bliss,\n Yet twofold I ween is the message, and His token some read\n amiss; 580\n For the world may buy, as it pleaseth, God's Wrath or His\n Love so great.\n Say, which of the twain wilt thou choose here, shall thy\n guerdon be Love or Hate?\n For the sinner without repentance, he flieth God's faith and\n Face,\n But he who his sin confesseth, doth find in His presence\n grace!'\n\n 'From the shrine of his heart, who shall keep Him? Tho'\n hidden the thought within, 585\n And secret, and thro' its darkness no sunbeam its way may\n win,\n (For thought is a secret chamber, fast locked, tho' no lock\n it bear,)\n Yet, tho' against man it be clos\u00e8d, God's light ever shineth\n there.\n He pierceth the wall of darkness, and silent and swift His\n spring,\n As no sound betrayed His coming, as no footstep was heard to\n ring, 590\n So silent His way He goeth--And swift as our thoughts have\n flown,\n Ere God passed of our heart the threshold, our thoughts unto\n Him were known!\n And the pure in heart He chooseth; he who doth an ill deed\n begin,\n Since God knoweth the thoughts of all men, full sorely shall\n rue his sin.\n And the man who by deeds God's favour doth forfeit, what\n shall he gain? 595\n Tho' the world count him honour-worthy, his soul seeketh rest\n in vain.\n And where wilt thou seek for shelter if _God_ as thy foeman\n stand,\n Who of wrath or of love giveth payment, as men serve Him,\n with equal hand?\n Thou art lost if thy God be against thee--If thou wouldst His\n favour earn,\n Then away from thy wrath and thy folly thy thoughts to His\n goodness turn!' 600\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Here I thank thee, from my heart, that such\n faithful rede\n Thou hast given of him who withholdeth from no man his\n rightful meed,\n But evil, as good, requiteth--Yet my youth hath been full of\n care,\n And my faith hath but brought me sorrow, and ill to this day\n I fare!'\n\n Then the hermit he looked on the Waleis, 'If a secret be not\n thy grief, 605\n Right willing thy woe I'll hearken, I may bring thee\n perchance relief;\n Of some counsel may I bethink me such as yet to thyself dost\n fail!'\n Quoth Parzival, 'Of my sorrows the chiefest is for the Grail,\n And then for my wife--none fairer e'er hung on a mother's\n breast,\n For the twain is my heart yet yearning, with desire that\n ne'er findeth rest.' 610\n Quoth his host, 'Well, Sir Knight, thou speakest, such sorrow\n is good to bear;\n If thus for the wife of thy bosom thy heart knoweth grief and\n care,\n And Death find thee a faithful husband, tho' Hell vex thee\n with torments dire\n Yet thy pains shall be swiftly ended, God will draw thee from\n out Hell-fire.\n But if for the _Grail_ thou grievest, then much must I mourn\n thy woe, 615\n O! foolish man, since fruitless thy labours, for thou shalt\n know\n That none win the Grail save those only whose names are in\n Heaven known,\n They who to the Grail do service, they are chosen of God\n alone;\n And mine eyes have surely seen this, and sooth is the word I\n say!'\n Quoth Parzival, 'Thou hast been there?' 'Sir Knight,' quoth\n the hermit, 'Yea!' 620\n But never a word spake our hero of the marvels himself had\n seen,\n But he asked of his host the story, and what men by 'The\n Grail' should mean?\n Spake the hermit, 'Full well do I know this, that many a\n knightly hand\n Serveth the Grail at Monsalv\u00e4sch, and from thence, throughout\n all the land,\n On many a distant journey these gallant Templars fare, 625\n Whether sorrow or joy befall them, for their sins they this\n penance bear!'\n\n 'And this brotherhood so gallant, dost thou know what to them\n shall give\n Their life, and their strength and their valour--then know,\n by a _stone_ they live,\n And that stone is both pure and precious--Its name hast thou\n never heard?\n Men call it _Lapis Exilis_--by its magic the wondrous bird, 630\n The Phoenix, becometh ashes, and yet doth such virtue flow\n From the stone, that afresh it riseth renewed from the ashes\n glow,\n And the plumes that erewhile it moulted spring forth yet more\n fair and bright--\n And tho' faint be the man and feeble, yet the day that his\n failing sight\n Beholdeth the stone, he dies not, nor can, till eight days be\n gone, 635\n Nor his countenance wax less youthful--If one daily behold\n that stone,\n (If a man it shall be, or a maiden 'tis the same,) for a\n hundred years,\n If they look on its power, their hair groweth not grey, and\n their face appears\n The same as when first they saw it, nor their flesh nor their\n bone shall fail\n But young they abide for ever--And this stone all men call\n the Grail.' 640\n 'And Its holiest power, and the highest shall I ween be\n renewed to-day,\n For ever upon Good Friday a messenger takes her way.\n From the height of the highest Heaven a Dove on her flight\n doth wing,\n And a Host, so white and holy, she unto the stone doth bring.\n And she layeth It down upon It; and white as the Host the\n Dove 645\n That, her errand done, swift wingeth her way to the Heaven\n above.\n Thus ever upon Good Friday doth it chance as I tell to thee:\n And the stone from the Host receiveth all good that on earth\n may be\n Of food or of drink, the earth beareth as the fulness of\n Paradise.\n All wild things in wood or in water, and all that 'neath\n Heaven flies, 650\n To that brotherhood are they given, a pledge of God's favour\n fair,\n For His servants He ever feedeth and the Grail for their\n needs doth care!'\n\n 'Now hearken, the Grail's elect ones, say who doth their\n service claim?\n On the Grail, in a mystic writing, appeareth each chosen\n name,\n If a man it shall be, or a maiden, whom God calls to this\n journey blest. 655\n And the message no man effaceth, till all know the high\n behest,\n But when all shall the name have read there, as it came, doth\n the writing go:\n As children the Grail doth call them, 'neath its shadow they\n wax and grow.\n And bless\u00e8d shall be the mother whose child doth the summons\n hear,\n Rich and poor alike rejoiceth when the messenger draweth\n near, 660\n And the Grail son or daughter claimeth! They are gathered\n from every land,\n And ever from shame and sorrow are they sheltered, that holy\n band.\n In Heaven is their rewarding, if so be that they needs must\n die,\n Then bliss and desire's fulfilment are waiting them all on\n high!'\n\n 'They who took no part in the conflict, when Lucifer would\n fight 665\n With the Three-in-One, those angels were cast forth from\n Heaven's height.\n To the earth they came at God's bidding, and that wondrous\n stone did tend,\n Nor was It less pure for their service, yet their task found\n at last an end.\n I know not if God forgave them, or if they yet deeper fell,\n This one thing I know of a surety, what God doeth, He doeth\n well! 670\n But ever since then to this service nor maiden nor knight\n shall fail,\n For God calleth them all as shall please Him!--and so\n standeth it with the Grail!'\n Quoth Parzival, 'So, since knighthood may conquer, with spear\n and shield,\n Both the fame of _this_ life, and the blessing which Paradise\n shall yield,\n Since my soul ever longed for knighthood, and I fought\n where'er strife might be, 675\n And my right hand hath neared full often the guerdon of\n victory,\n If God be the God of battles, if He know how a man should\n fight,\n Let Him name me as one of His servants, of the Grail let Him\n make me knight!\n They shall own that I fear no danger, nor from strife would I\n turn aside!'\n But the hermit made answer gently, 'First must thou beware of\n pride, 680\n For lightly may youth mislead thee; and the grace of humility\n Mayst thou lose, and the proud God doth punish, as full\n surely is known to me!'\n And tears filled his eyes to o'erflowing, and his sad\n thoughts awhile did turn\n To a story of old, and our hero he bade from its lesson\n learn.\n\n And he quoth, 'Sir Knight, at Monsalv\u00e4sch a king reigned in\n days of yore, 685\n His name all men know as Anfortas, and I weep for him\n evermore.\n Yea, and thou too shalt mourn his sorrow, for bitter the woe,\n I ween,\n And the torment of heart and body that his guerdon from pride\n hath been.\n For his youth and his worldly riches they led him an evil\n road,\n And he sought for Frau Minne's favour in paths where no peace\n abode.' 690\n\n 'But the Grail all such ways forbiddeth, and both knight\n alike and squire\n Who serve the Grail must guard them from the lust of untamed\n desire.\n By meekness their pride must be conquered, if they look for a\n heavenly prize,\n And the brotherhood holdeth hidden the Grail from all\n stranger eyes:\n By their warlike skill and prowess the folk from the lands\n around, 695\n They keep afar, and none knoweth where the Grail and Its Burg\n are found\n Save those whom the Grail shall summon within Monsalv\u00e4sch'\n wall--\n Yet _one_, uncalled, rode thither and evil did then befall,\n For foolish he was, and witless, and sin-laden from thence\n did fare,\n Since he asked not his host of his sorrow and the woe that he\n saw him bear. 700\n No man would I blame, yet _this_ man, I ween, for his sins\n must pay,\n Since he asked not the longed-for question which all sorrow\n had put away.\n (Sore laden his host with suffering, earth knoweth no greater\n pain.)\n And before him King L\u00e4helein came there, and rode to the Lake\n Brimbane.\n Libb\u00e8als, the gallant hero, a joust there was fain to ride, 705\n And L\u00e4helein lifeless left him, on the grass by the\n water-side,\n (Prienlaskors, methinks, was his birthplace) and his slayer\n then led away\n His charger, so men knew the evil thus wrought by his hand\n that day.'\n\n 'And I think me, Sir Knight, _thou_ art L\u00e4helein? For thou\n gavest unto my care\n A steed that such token showeth as the steeds of the Grail\n Knights bear! 710\n For the white dove I see on its housing, from Monsalv\u00e4sch it\n surely came?\n Such arms did Anfortas give them while joy yet was his and\n fame.\n Their shields bare of old the token, Titurel gave it to his\n son\n Frimutel, and such shield bare that hero when his death in a\n joust he won.\n For his wife did he love so dearly no woman was loved so well 715\n By man, yet in truth and honour,--and the same men of thee\n shall tell\n If thou wakenest anew old customs, and thy wife from thine\n heart dost love--\n Hold thou fast to such fair example lest thy steps from the\n right path rove!\n And in sooth thou art wondrous like him who once o'er the\n Grail did reign,\n Say, what is thy race? whence art thou? and tell me I pray\n thy name!' 720\n\n Each gazed for a space on the other, and thus quoth Parzival,\n 'Son am I to a king and hero who through knightly courage\n fell,\n In a joust was he slain--Now I pray thee, Sir Hermit, of this\n thy grace,\n That thou, in thy prayers henceforward, wilt give to his name\n a place.\n Know, Gamuret, did they call him, and he came from fair\n Anjou-- 725\n Sir Host I am not L\u00e4helein; if ever such sin I knew\n 'Twas in my days of folly, yet in truth have I done the same,\n Here I make of my guilt confession, and my sin unto thee I\n name,\n For the prince who once fell a victim unto my sinful hand\n Was he whom men called 'the Red Knight,' Prince Ither of\n Cumberland. 730\n On the greensward I lifeless stretched him, and as at my feet\n he lay,\n Harness, and horse, and weapons, as my booty I bare away!'\n\n Spake the host as his words were ended, (the tale he ill\n pleased must hear,)\n 'Ah! world, wherefore deal thus with us? since sorrow and\n grief and fear\n Far more than delight dost thou give us! Say, is this thy\n reward alone? 735\n For ever the song that thou singest doth end in a mournful\n tone!'\n And he spake, 'O thou son of my sister, what rede may I give\n to thee?\n Since the knight thou hast slain in thy folly, thy flesh and\n thy blood was he!\n If thou, blood-guiltiness bearing, shalt dare before God to\n stand,\n For one blood were ye twain, to God's justice thy life shall\n repay thine hand. 740\n Say, for Ither of Gaheviess fallen, what payment dost think\n to give?\n The crown he of knightly honour! God gave him, while he might\n live.\n All that decketh man's life; for all evil his true heart did\n truly mourn,\n True balsam was he of the faithful, to honour and glory born.\n And shame fled before his coming, and truth in his heart did\n dwell, 745\n And for love of his lovely body many women shall hate thee\n well!\n For well did they love his coming, and to serve them he aye\n was fain,\n But their eyes that shone fair for his fairness he ne'er\n shall rejoice again!\n Now, may God show His mercy to thee whose hand hath such evil\n wrought,\n Herzeleide the queen, thy mother, thou too to her death hast\n brought--' 750\n 'Nay! Nay! not so, holy father! What sayest thou?' quoth\n Parzival,\n 'Of what dost thou here accuse me? Were I king o'er the\n wondrous Grail\n Not all Its countless riches would repay me if this be sooth,\n These words that thy lips have spoken! And yet if I, in very\n truth,\n Be son unto thy sister, then show that thou mean'st me well, 755\n And say, without fear or falsehood, are these things true\n that thou dost tell?'\n\n Then the hermit he spake in answer, 'Ne'er learnt I to\n deceive,\n Thy mother she died of sorrow in the day thou her side didst\n leave,\n Such rewarding her love won for her! _Thou_ wast the beast\n that hung\n On her breast, the wing\u00e8d dragon that forth from her body\n sprung, 760\n That spread its wings and left her: in a dream was it all\n foretold\n Ere yet the sorrowing mother the babe to her breast did\n hold!'\n\n 'And two other sisters had I, Schoisian\u00e8 she was one;\n She bare a child--Woe is me, her death thro' this birth she\n won!\n Duke Kiot of Katelangen was her husband, and since that day 765\n All wordly joy and honour he putteth from him away.\n Sigun\u00e9, their little daughter, was left to thy mother's care:\n And sorrow for Schoisian\u00e8 in my heart do I ever bear!\n So true was her heart and faithful, an ark 'gainst the flood\n of sin.\n A maiden, my other sister, her pure life doth honour win, 770\n For the Grail she ever tendeth--Repanse de Schoie, her name,\n Tho' none from Its place may move It whose heart showeth\n taint of shame,\n In _her_ hands is It light as a feather--And brother unto us\n twain\n Is Anfortas, by right of heirship he king o'er the Grail doth\n reign;\n And he knoweth not joy, but sorrow, yet one hope I ween is\n his, 775\n That his pain shall at last be turn\u00e8d to delight and to\n endless bliss.\n And wondrous the tale of his sorrow, as, nephew, I'll tell to\n thee,\n And if true be thine heart and faithful his grief shall thy\n sorrow be!'\n\n 'When he died, Frimutel, our father, they chose them his\n eldest son\n As Lord of the Grail and Its knighthood, thus Anfortas his\n kingdom won, 780\n And of riches and crown was he worthy, and we were but\n children still--\n When he came to the years of manhood, when love joyeth to\n work her will\n On the heart, and his lips were fring\u00e8d with the down of\n early youth,\n Frau Minne laid stress upon him who for torment hath little\n ruth.\n But if love the Grail King seeketh other than he find writ, 785\n 'Tis a sin, and in sorrow and sighing full sore shall he pay\n for it!'\n\n 'And my lord and brother chose him a lady for service fair,\n Noble and true he deemed her, I say not what name she bare;\n Well he fought in that lady's honour, and cowardice from him\n fled,\n And his hand many a shield-rim shattered, by love's fire was\n he venture led. 790\n So high stood his fame that no hero in knightly lands afar\n Could he brook to be thought his equal, so mighty his deeds\n of war,\n And his battle-cry was \"Amor,\" yet it seemeth unto me\n Not all too well such cry suiteth with a life of humility.'\n\n 'One day as the king rode lonely, in search of some venture\n high 795\n (Sore trouble it brought upon us,) with love's payment for\n victory,\n For love's burden lay heavy on him, in a joust was he wounded\n sore\n With a poisoned spear, so that healing may be wrought on him\n nevermore.\n For thine uncle, the King Anfortas, he was smitten thro' the\n thigh\n By a heathen who with him battled, for he jousted right\n skilfully. 800\n He came from the land of Ethnis\u00e9, where forth from fair\n Paradise\n Flow the streams of the River Tigris, and he thought him,\n that heathen wise,\n He should win the Grail, and should hold It--On his spear had\n he graven his name,\n From afar sought he deeds of knighthood, over sea and land he\n came.\n The fame of the Grail drew him thither, and evil for us his\n strife, 805\n His hand joy hath driven from us and clouded with grief our\n life!'\n\n 'But thine uncle had battled bravely and men praised his name\n that day--\n With the spear-shaft yet fast in his body he wended his\n homeward way.\n And weeping arose and wailing as he came once again to his\n own,\n And dead on the field lay his foeman, nor did we for his\n death make moan!' 810\n\n 'When the king came, all pale and bloodless, and feeble of\n strength and limb,\n Then a leech stretched his hand to the spear-wound, and the\n iron he found fast within,\n With the hilt, wrought of reed, and hollow, and the twain\n from the wound he drew.\n Then I fell on my knees, and I vowed me to God, with a heart\n so true,\n That henceforward the pride of knighthood, and its fame,\n would I know no more, 815\n If but God would behold my brother and would succour his need\n so sore.\n Then flesh, wine, and bread I forswore there, and all food\n that by blood might live,\n That lust might no longer move me my life I to God would\n give,\n And I tell thee, O son of my sister, that the wailing arose\n anew\n When my weapons I put from off me and ungirded my sword so\n true, 820\n And they spake, 'Who shall guard our mysteries? who shall\n watch o'er the wondrous Grail?'\n And tears fell from the eyes of the maidens, but their\n weeping might naught avail!\n\n 'To the Grail, then, they bare Anfortas, if Its virtue might\n bring relief;\n But, alas! when his eyes beheld It yet heavier waxed his\n grief\n As the life sprang afresh within him, and he knew that he\n might not die; 825\n And he liveth, while here I hide me in this life of humility,\n And the power of the Grail, and Its glory, with their monarch\n have waxen weak.\n For the venom, his wound that poisoned, tho' the leeches\n their books did seek\n Yet found they nor help nor healing--Yea, all that their\n skill might learn\n 'Gainst the poison of Aspis, Elkontius, of Liseis, and\n Ecidemon, 830\n All spells 'gainst the worm empoisoned, 'gainst Jecis or\n Me\u00e0tris;\n Or all that a wise man knoweth of roots or of herbs; I wis\n Naught was there in all might help him; nor rede I a longer\n tale\n Since _God_ willeth not his healing what man's skill may\n aught avail?'\n\n 'Then we sent to the mystic waters, in a far-off land they\n rise, 835\n Pison, Gihon, Tigris, Euphrates, the rivers of Paradise,\n And so near they flow that the perfumes which breathe from\n its scented air\n Shall yet to their streams be wafted--If their waters\n perchance might bear\n Some plant from the wondrous garden that might succour us in\n our woe,\n But vain thought, and fruitless labour, fresh sorrow our\n heart did know!' 840\n\n 'Nor here did we end our labour, for again for the bough we\n sought\n Which the Sibyl unto \u00c6neas as a shield 'gainst Hell's dangers\n brought.\n 'Gainst the smoke and the fire of Phlegethon, and the rivers\n that flow in Hell\n Would it guard, and for long we sought it, for we thought, if\n such chance befell\n That the spear in Hell-fire was welded, and the poison from\n Hell did spring 845\n That thus of our joy had robbed us, then this bough might\n salvation bring!'\n\n 'But Hell, it knew naught of the poison! There liveth a\n wondrous bird\n Who loveth too well her fledglings--Of the Pelican's love we\n heard,\n How she teareth her breast and feedeth her young with the\n quickening food\n Of her own life-blood, and then dieth--So we took of that\n bird the blood, 850\n Since we thought that her love might help us, and we laid it\n upon the sore\n As best we could--Yet, I wot well, no virtue for us it bore!'\n\n 'A strange beast, the Unicorn, liveth, and it doth in such\n honour keep\n The heart of a spotless maiden that it oft at her knee will\n sleep.\n And the heart of that beast we took us, and we took us the\n red-fire stone 855\n That lies 'neath its horn, if the king's wound might its\n healing virtue own.\n And we laid on the wound the carbuncle, and we put it the\n wound within,\n Yet still was the sore empoisoned nor aid from the stone\n might win!'\n\n 'And sore with the king we sorrowed--Then a magic herb we\n found,\n (Men say, from the blood of a dragon it springeth from out\n the ground,) 860\n With the stars, and the wind, and the heaven, close-bound,\n doth it win its power,\n Lest perchance, by the flight of the dragon, when the stars\n bring the circling hour,\n And the moon draweth near to her changing, (for sorer then\n grows the pain,)\n The herb might our grief have aided--Yet its magic we sought\n in vain!'\n\n 'Then the knights of the Grail knelt lowly, and for help to\n the Grail they prayed, 865\n And, behold! the mystic writing, and a promise it brought of\n aid,\n For a knight should come to the castle, and so soon as he\n asked the king\n Of the woe that so sorely pained him his question should\n healing bring.\n But let them beware, man or maiden, or child, should they\n warn the knight\n Of his task, he no healing bringeth, greater waxeth the\n sorrow's might. 870\n And the writing it ran, 'Ye shall mark this, forewarning\n shall bring but ill,\n And in the first night of his coming must the healer his task\n fulfil,\n Or the question shall lose its virtue; but if at the chosen\n hour\n He shall speak, _his_ shall be the kingdom, and the evil hath\n lost its power.\n So the hand of the Highest sendeth to Anfortas the end of\n woe, 875\n Yet _King_ shall he be no longer tho' healing and bliss he\n know.'\n\n 'Thus we read in the Grail that our sorrow should come to an\n end that day\n That the knight should come who the meaning of the grief that\n he saw should pray--\n Then salve of Nard we took us, and Teriak, and the wound we\n dressed,\n And we burnt wood of Lignum Aloe for so might the king find\n rest. 880\n Yet ever he suffereth sorely--Then fled I unto this place,\n And my life little gladness knoweth till my brother hath\n gotten grace.\n And the knight, he hath come, and hath left us, and ill for\n us all that day,\n (But now did I speak of his coming,) sorrow-laden he rode\n away,\n For he saw his host's woe and asked not, 'What aileth thee\n here, mine host?' 885\n Since his folly such words forbade him great bliss shall he\n there have lost!'\n\n Then awhile did they mourn together till the mid-day hour\n drew near,\n And the host spake, 'We must be seeking for food, and thine\n horse, I fear,\n As yet shall be lacking fodder; nor know I how we shall feed\n If not God in His goodness show us the herbs that shall serve\n our need, 890\n My kitchen but seldom smoketh! Forgive thou the lack to-day,\n And abide here, so long as shall please thee, if thy journey\n shall brook delay.\n Of plants and of herbs would I teach thee much lore, if so be\n the grass\n Were not hidden by snow--God grant us that this cold may be\n soon o'erpast--\n Now break we yew-boughs for thy charger, far better its fare\n hath been 895\n Erewhile 'neath the roof of Monsalv\u00e4sch than shall here be\n its lot I ween!\n Yet never a host shall ye meet with who rider alike and steed\n Would as gladly bid share of his substance as I, had I all ye\n need!'\n Then the twain they went forth on their errand--Parzival for\n his steed had care,\n While the hermit for roots was seeking since no better might\n be their fare; 900\n And the host his rule forgat not, he ate naught, whate'er he\n found,\n Till the ninth hour, but ever hung them, as he drew them from\n out the ground,\n On the nearest shrub, and there left them; many days he but\n ill might fare\n For God's honour, since oft he lost them, the shrubs which\n his roots did bear.\n\n Nor grudged they aught of their labour: then they knelt by\n the streamlet's flow, 905\n And the roots and the herbs they washed there, and no\n laughter their lips might know.\n Then their hands they washed, and the yew-boughs Parzival\n together bound\n And bare them unto his charger ere the cavern again he found;\n Then the twain by the fireside sat them, nor further might\n food be brought,\n Nor on roast nor on boiled they fed them, nor found in their\n kitchen aught. 910\n Yet so true was the love and the honour Parzival to the\n hermit bare\n That he deemed he enough had eaten, and no better had been\n his fare\n With Gurnemanz of Graharz, or e'en in Monsalv\u00e4sch hall,\n When the maidens passed fair before him and the Grail fed\n them each and all.\n\n Then his kindly host quoth, 'Nephew, despise not this food,\n for know 915\n Lightly thou shalt not find one who shall favour and kindness\n show,\n Of true heart, without fear of evil, as fain would I show to\n thee.'\n And Parzival quoth, 'May God's favour henceforward ne'er\n light on me\n If food ever better pleased me, or I ate with a better will\n What a host ever set before me, such fare doth content me\n still.' 920\n\n Their hands they need not wash them for such food as before\n them lay,\n 'Twas no fish, that their eyes had harm\u00e8d as men oft are wont\n to say.\n And were I or hawk or falcon I had lent me to the chase,\n Nor stooped to the lure unwilling, nor fled from my master's\n face,\n But an they no better fed me than at noontide they fed, these\n twain, 925\n I had spread my wings right swiftly, nor come to their call\n again!\n Why mock at this folk so faithful? 'Twas ever my way of old--\n Yet ye know why, forsaking riches, they chose to them want\n and cold,\n And the lack of all things joyful, such sorrow and grief of\n heart\n They bare of true heart, God-fearing, nor had they in\n falsehood part;\n And thus from the hand of the Highest they won payment for\n grief and woe, 930\n And alike should the twain God's favour, as of old, so\n hereafter know.\n\n Then up stood they again, and they gat them, Parzival and the\n holy man,\n To the steed in its rocky stable, and full sadly the host\n began\n As he spake to the noble charger, 'Woe is me for thy scanty\n fare, 935\n For the sake of the saddle upon thee and the token I see thee\n bear!'\n\n When their care for the horse was ended, then sorrow sprang\n forth anew,\n Quoth Parzival, 'Host and uncle, my folly I needs must rue,\n And fain would I tell the story if for shame I the word may\n speak;\n Forgive me, I pray, of thy kindness, since in thee do I\n comfort seek, 940\n For sorely, I ween, have I sinn\u00e8d; if thou canst no comfort\n find\n No peace may be mine, but for ever the chains of remorse\n shall bind.\n Of true heart shalt thou mourn my folly--He who to\n Monsalv\u00e4sch rode,\n He who saw Anfortas' sorrow, he who spake not the healing\n word,\n 'Twas I, child and heir of misfortune, 'twas I, Parzival,\n alone, 945\n Ill have I wrought, and I know not how I may for such ill\n atone!'\n\n Spake the hermit, 'Alas! my nephew, thou speakest the words\n of woe,\n Vanished our joy, and sorrow henceforth must we grasp and\n know,\n Since folly of bliss betrayed thee: senses five did God give\n to thee,\n And methinks, in the hour of thy testing, their counsel\n should better be. 950\n Why guarded they not thine honour, and thy love as a man to\n men,\n In the hour that thou satst by Anfortas? Of a truth hadst\n thou spoken then!'\n\n 'Nor would I deny thee counsel; mourn not for thy fault too\n sore,\n Thou shalt, in a fitting measure, bewail thee, and grief give\n o'er.\n For strange are the ways, and fitful, of mankind, oft is\n youth too wise 955\n And old age turneth back to folly, and darkened are wisdom's\n eyes,\n And the fruit of a life lieth forfeit, while green youth doth\n wax old and fade--\n Not in this wise true worth shall be rooted, and payment in\n praise be paid.\n Thine youth would I see fresh blooming, and thine heart\n waxing strong and bold,\n While thou winnest anew thine honour, nor dost homage from\n God withhold. 960\n For thus might it chance unto thee to win for thyself such\n fame\n As shall make amends for thy sorrow, and God thee, as His\n knight, shall claim!'\n\n 'Thro' my mouth would God teach thee wisdom; now say, didst\n thou see the spear,\n In that wondrous Burg of Monsalv\u00e4sch? As ever the time draws\n near\n When Saturn his journey endeth--(that time by the wound we\n know, 965\n And yet by another token, by the fall of the summer snow)\n Then sorely the frost doth pain him, thy king and uncle dear,\n And deep in the wound empoisoned once more do they plunge the\n spear,\n One woe shall help the other, the spear cure the frost's\n sharp pain,\n And crimson it grows with his life-blood ere men draw it\n forth again!' 970\n\n 'When the stars return in their orbit, then the wailing it\n waxeth sore,\n When they stand in opposition, or each to the other draw.\n And the moon, in its waxing and waning, it causeth him bitter\n pain--\n In the time that I erst have told thee then the king little\n rest may gain;\n His flesh thro' the frost it groweth colder than e'en the\n snow, 975\n But men know that the spear sharp-pointed doth with fiery\n venom glow,\n And upon the wound they lay it, and the frost from his flesh\n so cold\n It draweth, and lo! as crystals of glass to the spear doth\n hold,\n And as ice to the iron it clingeth, and none looseth it from\n the blade.\n Then Trebuchet the smith bethought him, in his wisdom two\n knives he made, 980\n Of silver fair he wrought them, and sharp was the edge and\n keen--\n (A spell on the king's sword written had taught him such\n skill I ween,)\n Tho' no flame on earth can kindle Asbestos, as men do tell,\n And never a fire may harm it, if these crystals upon it fell\n Then the flame would leap and kindle and burn with a fiery\n glow 985\n Till th' Asbestos lay in ashes, such power doth this poison\n know!'\n\n 'The king, he rideth never, nor yet may he walk, or lie,\n And he sitteth not, but, reclining, in tears his sad days\n pass by.\n And the moon's changes work him evil--To a lake they call\n Brimbane\n They bear him full oft for fishing that the breezes may\n soothe his pain. 990\n This he calleth his day for hunting, tho' what booty shall be\n his share,\n And he vex himself to gain it, for his host 'twould be meagre\n fare!\n And from this there sprang the story that he should but a\n Fisher be,\n Tho little he recked the fable, no merchant I ween was he\n Of salmon or aye of lamprey, he had chosen far other game 995\n Were he freed from the load of sorrow and the burden of\n bitter pain.'\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'So I found him; the king's skiff at anchor\n lay,\n And for pastime, e'en as a fisher, the even he wore away;\n And many a mile had I ridden that day, since from Pelrap\u00e4r\n When the sun stood high in the heaven, at noontide I forth\n must fare; 1000\n And at even I much bethought me where my shelter that night\n might be,\n Then my uncle did fair entreat me, and my host for a space\n was he.'\n\n 'A perilous way didst thou ride there,' spake the host, 'one\n that well they guard\n Those Templars, nor strength nor cunning brings a traveller\n thro' their ward,\n For danger full oft besets him, and oft he his life shall\n lose, 1005\n Life against life is their penance, all quarter these knights\n refuse.'\n\n 'Yet scatheless I passed that woodland in the day that I\n found the king\n By the lake,' quoth the knight, 'and at even his palace with\n grief did ring,\n And sure, as they mourned, I think me, no folk ever mourned\n before!\n In the hall rose the voice of wailing as a squire sprang\n within the door, 1010\n And a spear in his hand he carried, and to each of the walls\n he stept,\n Red with blood was the spear, as they saw it, the people they\n mourned and wept.'\n\n Then answered the host, 'Far sorer than before was the\n monarch's pain,\n In this wise did he learn the tidings that Saturn drew near\n again,\n And the star with a sharp frost cometh, and it helpeth no\n whit to lay 1015\n The spear on the sore as aforetime, in the wound must it\n plunge alway!\n When that star standeth high in heaven the wound shall its\n coming know\n Afore, tho' the earth shall heed not, nor token of frost\n shall show.\n But the cold it came, and the snow-flakes fell thick in the\n following night\n Tho' the season was spring, and the winter was vanquished by\n summer's might. 1020\n As the frost to the king brought sorrow and pain, so his\n people true\n Were of joy bereft, as the moment of his anguish thus nearer\n drew.'\n\n And Trevrezent quoth, 'In sorrow that folk hath both lot and\n part,\n When the spear thro' the king's wound pierceth, it pierceth\n each faithful heart.\n And their love to their lord, and their sorrow, such tears\n from their eyelids drew 1025\n That, methinks, in those bitter waters had they been baptized\n anew.'\n\n Spake Parzival unto the hermit, 'Five-and-twenty they were,\n the maids\n I saw stand before the monarch, and courteous their part they\n played.'\n And the host spake, 'By God's high counsel such maidens alone\n avail\n For the care of this wondrous mystery, and do service before\n the Grail. 1030\n And the Grail, It chooseth strictly, and Its knights must be\n chaste and pure,--\n When the star standeth high in the heaven then grief must\n that folk endure,\n And the young they mourn as the aged, and God's wrath it\n lasts for a\u00fde,\n And ne'er to their supplication doth He hearken and answer\n \"Yea.\"'\n\n 'And, nephew, this thing would I tell thee, and my word shalt\n thou well believe, 1035\n They who to the Grail do service, they take, and again they\n give.\n For they take to them tittle children, noble of birth and\n race--\n If a land be without a ruler, and its people shall seek God's\n Face\n And crave of His Hand a monarch, then He hearkeneth to their\n prayer,\n And a knight, from the Grail host chosen, as king to that\n land doth fare. 1040\n And well shall he rule that people, and happy shall be that\n land,\n For the blessing of God goeth with him and God's wisdom doth\n guide his hand.'\n\n 'God sendeth the _men_ in secret, but the _maidens_ in light\n of day\n Are given unto their husbands; thus none spake to his wooing,\n Nay,\n When King Kastis wooed Herzeleide, but joyful our sister\n gave, 1045\n Yet ne'er might her love rejoice him for Death dug at his\n feet a grave.\n But in life had he given thy mother both Norgals and fair\n Waleis,\n Those kingdoms twain and their cities, Kingrivals and\n Kanvoleis.\n 'Twas a fair gift, and known of all men--Then they rode on\n their homeward way,\n But Death met them upon their journey, and he made of the\n king his prey, 1050\n And over both Waleis and Norgals Herzeleide, as queen, did\n reign,\n Till Gamuret's right hand valiant won the maid, and her\n kingdoms twain.'\n\n 'Thus the Grail Its maidens giveth, in the day, and the sight\n of men,\n But It sendeth Its knights in the silence and their children\n It claims again,--\n To the host of the Grail are they counted, Grail servants\n they all shall be, 1055\n So the will of God standeth written on the Grail for all men\n to see.'\n\n 'He who would to the Grail do service, he shall women's love\n forswear:\n A wife shall none have save the Grail king, and his wife a\n pure heart must bear,\n And those others whom God's Hand sendeth, as king, to a\n kingless land--\n But little I recked such counsel, to love's service I vowed\n my hand, 1060\n As the pride of my youth constrained me, and the beauty of\n woman's eyes,\n And I rode full oft in her service, and I battled for\n knighthood's prize.\n Fain was I for wild adventure, on jousting no more I thought,\n So fair shone the love-light on me ever fiercer the strife I\n sought.\n And thro' far-off lands and distant, in the service of love I\n fared, 1065\n And to win sweet love's rewarding right valiant the deeds I\n dared.\n If heathen my foe or Christian, what mattered it unto me?\n The fiercer the strife that beset me, the fairer my prize\n should be!'\n\n 'And thus, for the love of woman, in three parts of the earth\n I fought,\n In Europe, and far-off Asia, and in Afric' I honour sought. 1070\n If for gallant jousting I lusted I fought before Gaurivon;\n By the mystic Mount of Fay-Morgan I many a joust have run.\n And I fought by the Mount Agremontin, where are fiery men and\n fierce,\n Yet the other side they burn not tho' their spears thro' the\n shield can pierce.\n In Rohas I sought for ventures, and Slavs were my foemen\n then, 1075\n With lances they came against me and I trow they were gallant\n men!'\n\n 'From Seville I took my journey, and I sailed o'er the\n tideless sea\n Unto Sicily, since thro' Friant and Aquilea should my journey\n be.\n Alas! alas! woe is me, for I met with thy father there,\n I found him, and looked upon him, ere I from Seville must\n fare. 1080\n For e'en as I came to the city he there for a space abode,\n And my heart shall be sore for his journey, since thence to\n Bagdad he rode,\n And there, as thyself hast spoken, in a knightly joust he\n fell,\n And for ever my heart must mourn him, and my tongue of his\n praises tell!'\n 'A rich man shall be my brother, nor silver nor gold would\n spare 1085\n When in secret I forth from Monsalv\u00e4sch at his will and his\n word did fare;\n For I took me his royal signet, and to Karkobra I came,\n Where Plimiz\u00f6l to the wide sea floweth, and the land,\n Barbig\u00f6l, they name.\n And the Burg-grave he knew the token, ere I rode from the\n town again\n Of horses and squires, as failed me, he raised me a gallant\n train, 1090\n And we rode thence to wild adventures, and to many a knightly\n deed,\n For nothing had he begrudged me of aught that might serve my\n need.\n Alone came I unto the city, and there at my journey's end\n Did I leave those who had fared thence with me, and alone to\n Monsalv\u00e4sch wend.'\n\n 'Now hearken to me, my nephew, when thy father first saw my\n face 1095\n Of old in Seville's fair city, there did he such likeness\n trace\n To his wife, fair Herzeleide, that he would me as brother\n claim,\n Tho' never before had he seen me, and secret I held my name.\n And in sooth was I fair to look on, as ever a man might be,\n And my face by no beard was hidden; and sweetly he spake to\n me, 1100\n When he sought me within my dwelling--Yet many an oath I\n swore\n And many a word of denial, yet ever he pressed me more\n Till in secret at last I told him, his kinsman was I in\n truth,\n And greatly did he rejoice him when he knew that his words\n were sooth!'\n\n 'A jewel he gave unto me, and I gave to him at his will; 1105\n Thou sawest my shrine, green shall grass be, yet that shineth\n greener still,\n 'Twas wrought from the stone he gave me--and a better gift he\n gave,\n For his nephew as squire he left me, Prince Ither, the true\n and brave.\n His heart such lore had taught him that falsehood his face\n did flee,\n The King of Cumberland was he, who, thou sayest, was slain by\n thee. 1110\n Then no longer might we delay us, but we parted, alas! for\n aye.\n He rode to the land of Baruch, unto Rohas I took my way.\n\n 'In Celli three weeks I battled, and I deemed 'twas enough\n for fame,\n From Rohas I took my journey and unto Gandein I came,\n ('Twas that town from which first thy grandsire, his name of\n Gandein did take,) 1115\n And many a deed did Ither, and men of his prowess spake.\n And the town lieth near the river, where Graien and Drave\n they meet,\n And the waters I ween are golden,--there Ither found guerdon\n sweet,\n For thine aunt, Lamire, she loved him, she was queen of that\n fair land,\n Gandein of Anjou, her father, he gave it unto her hand. 1120\n And Lamire was her name, but her country shall be Styria to\n this day--\n And many a land must he traverse who seeketh for knightly\n fray.'\n\n 'It grieveth me sore for my red squire, men honoured me for\n his sake,\n And Ither was thy near kinsman tho' of _that_ thou small heed\n didst take!\n Yet God _He_ hath not forgotten, and thy deed shall He count\n for sin, 1125\n And I wot thou shalt first do penance ere thou to His peace\n shalt win.\n And, weeping, this truth I tell thee, two mortal sins shall\n lie\n On thine heart, thou hast slain thy kinsman, and thy mother,\n thro' thee, must die.\n And in sooth shalt thou sore bewail her; in the day thou\n didst leave her side,\n So great was her love, and faithful, that for grief at thy\n loss she died. 1130\n Now do thou as here I rede thee, repent thee and pay sin's\n cost,\n That thy conflict on earth well ended thy soul be not ever\n lost.'\n\n Then the host he quoth full kindly, 'Nephew, now say the\n word,\n Whence hast thou yon gallant charger? Not yet I the tale have\n heard!'\n 'In a joust, Sir Host, did I win it, when I rode from\n Sigun\u00e9's cell 1135\n In a gallop I smote the rider and he from the saddle fell,\n And the steed was mine, I rode hence,--from Monsalv\u00e4sch he\n came, the knight.'\n Quoth the host, 'Is the man yet living who thus with thee did\n fight?'\n 'Yea, I saw him fly before me, and beside me stood his\n steed.'\n 'Nay, if thou in such wise dost bear thee thou art scant of\n wit indeed! 1140\n The Grail-knights dost thou rob, and thinkest their\n friendship thereby to win?'\n 'Nay, my uncle, in strife I won it, and he who shall count it\n sin\n Let him ask how the thing hath chanced thus, 'twas a fair\n fight we fought, we twain,\n Nor was it for naught that I took it, for first had my steed\n been slain!'\n\n Quoth Parzival, 'Who was the maiden who the Grail in her\n hands did bear, 1145\n Her mantle, that eve, she lent me?'--Quoth the hermit, 'That\n lady fair\n Is thine aunt, if her robe she lent thee of the loan shalt\n thou not be vain,\n For surely she deemed that hereafter thou shouldst there as\n monarch reign.\n And the Grail, and herself, yea and I too, should honour thee\n as our lord:\n And a gift didst thou take from thine uncle, for he gave\n thee, I ween, a sword, 1150\n And sin hast thou won in the wearing, since thy lips, which\n to speak are fain,\n There spake not the mystic question which had loosened his\n sorrow's chain,\n And that sin shalt thou count to the other, for 'tis time\n that we lay us down.\n Nor couches nor cushions had they, but they laid them upon\n the ground,\n And for bedding the rushes served them--too humble, I ween,\n such bed 1155\n For men of a race so noble, yet they deemed they were not\n ill-sped.\n\n Then twice seven days he abode there, with the hermit his lot\n did share,\n And the herb of the ground was his portion--yet he sought not\n for better fare,\n Right gladly he bare such hardness that should bring to him\n food so sweet,\n For as priest did his host absolve him, and as knight gave\n him counsel meet! 1160\n\n Quoth Parzival to the hermit, 'Say who shall he be, who lay\n Before the Grail? grey was he, yet his face it was as the\n day!'\n Spake the host, 'Titurel thou sawest, and he shall grandsire\n be\n To thy mother, first king and ruler of the Grail and Its\n knights was he.\n But a sickness hath fallen on him, and he lieth, nor findeth\n cure, 1165\n Yet his face on the Grail yet looketh, by Its power shall his\n life endure!\n Nor his countenance changeth colour, and his counsel shall\n aye be wise--\n In his youth he rode far and jousted, and won to him valour's\n prize.'\n\n 'An thou wouldst that thy life be adorn\u00e8d with true worth as\n thy crown of fame,\n Then ne'er mayst thou hate a woman, but shall honour, as\n knight, her name, 1170\n For women and priests, thou knowest, unarm\u00e8d shall be their\n hand,\n Yet the blessing of God watcheth o'er them, and as shield\n round the priest doth stand;\n For the priest, he careth for thee, that thine end may be\n free from ill,\n So treat thou no priest as a foeman, but serve him with right\n good will.\n For naught on the earth thou seest that is like to his office\n high, 1175\n For he speaketh that word unto us which our peace and our\n life did buy;\n And his hand hath been blest for the holding of the pledge on\n the altar laid,\n To assure us of sin's forgiveness, and the price for our\n pardon paid.\n And a priest who from sin doth guard him, and who to his Lord\n shall give\n Pure heart and pure hand for His service, say, what man shall\n holier live?' 1180\n\n Now this day was their day of parting--Trevrezent to our hero\n spake,\n 'Leave thou here thy sins behind thee, God shall me for thy\n surety take,\n And do thou as I have shown thee, be steadfast and true of\n heart!'\n Think ye with what grief and sorrow the twain did asunder\n part.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDICES\n\n\nAPPENDIX A\n\nTHE ANGEVIN ALLUSIONS OF THE 'PARZIVAL'\n\nOne of the most striking peculiarities of this version of the Perceval\nlegend consists in the fact that the writer closely connects his\nhero with a contemporary princely house, and exercises considerable\ningenuity in constructing a genealogy which shall establish a\nrelationship alike with the legendary British race of Pendragon, and\nwith the hereditary House of Anjou. Now, that Parzival should be\nrepresented as connected with Arthur is not surprising, taking into\nconsideration the great popularity of the Arthurian legends; the\nEnglish 'Sir Percyvelle' makes the relationship even closer; there,\nPercyvelle is Arthur's nephew, his sister's son; but it is far more\ndifficult to account for the Angevin connection. It has been suggested\nthat the writer of Wolfram's French source was Walter Mapes, to whom\nanother of the Grail romances the _Queste_ is generally ascribed; and\nwho, as is well known, was closely attached to the Court of Henry\nFitz-Empress, Count of Anjou, and King of England. Setting on one side\nthe great difference, in style and treatment, between the _Parzival_\nand the _Queste_, which render it impossible to believe that the same\nman could have treated the same legend from two such practically\nopposite points of view, a close examination of the Angevin allusions\nfound in the _Parzival_ reveals a correspondence between the characters\nand incidents of the poem, and the facts, real and traditional, of\nAngevin history, which seems to point to a familiarity with the subject\nscarcely likely to be possessed by a foreigner.\n\nThe following parallels will show that this Angevin element, though\nstrongest in the first two books (those peculiar to Wolfram's version),\nis to be clearly traced even in the presentment of what we know to be\ntraditional features of the story.\n\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF ANJOU\n\n WOLFRAM ANGEVIN TRADITION\n\n In Book I. the origin of the Ascribes their origin to the\n Angevin family is traced to the marriage of one of the early\n marriage of Mazadan with the fairy Counts with a lady of surpassing\n Terre-de-la-schoie. The fairy beauty, whose _demon_ origin was\n origin of the race is referred to discovered by her inability to\n again in Books II. and VIII., the remain in church during Mass.\n later allusion being in connection It was to the influence of this\n with Vergulacht, son of Gamuret's ancestress that the uncontrollable\n sister, and cousin to hero. temper of the Angevin princes was\n ascribed. Richard Coeur-de-lion is\n reported to have frequently said,\n 'We came from the Devil, and we\n go back to the Devil.' (In each\n instance it will be noted that the\n supernatural element is introduced\n by the wife.)\n\n GAMURET FULK V. OF ANJOU\n\n Younger son of the King of Anjou; Son of Fulk IV. (_Rechin_), and\n brought up at the court of French Bertalda de Montfort. His mother\n queen; goes to the East where eloped with, and married, Philip,\n he marries a Moorish queen, and king of France. She remained\n becomes king of an Eastern kingdom.on good terms with her former\n husband, and, Fulk, having already\n an heir by a previous wife, was\n allowed to bring up her son at\n her own court. The elder brother\n dying, Fulk became his father's\n heir, and finally succeeded him.\n In 1129, after the marriage of his\n son, Geoffrey, with the Empress\n Maud, Fulk was invited by Baldwin,\n king of Jerusalem, to become\n his son-in-law and successor.\n Accordingly he resigned Anjou to\n Geoffrey, went to Jerusalem, where\n he married Melesinda, daughter and\n heiress to Baldwin, and, after the\n death of the latter, succeeded\n him as king, and reigned till his\n death in 1142. (Here again we\n note that, in each instance, the\n Eastern kingdom is won through the\n wife.)\n\n Gamuret's first recorded deed A similar incident is recorded of\n of valour is the conquest, in Geoffrey I. (_Grisegonelle_) who,\n single combat, of Heuteger, the during the siege of Paris by the\n Scotchman, who appears every Danes in 978, overthrew a gigantic\n morning before the gates of Northman named Ethelwulf, who\n Patelamunt, to challenge the daily challenged the besieged in\n besieged knights. the manner recounted in the poem.\n Later historians cast doubts on\n the truth of this story, but it\n appears in all the old chronicles,\n and was undoubtedly firmly\n believed in by the writers of the\n twelfth century.\n\n HERZELEIDE THE EMPRESS MAUDE\n\n Widow, queen of two kingdoms, and Widow, Empress, Lady of two Lands,\n marries Prince of Anjou. England and Normandy, marries\n Count of Anjou.\n\n Her son is subsequently deprived Her son is deprived of these two\n of these kingdoms by the action kingdoms by the action of two\n of _one knight_, Book III. p. 73, brothers Theobald and Stephen of\n two _brothers_, _Ibid._ p. 80. Blois. Though Stephen was the\n This loss of two kingdoms by the principal aggressor, it must not\n action of L\u00e4helein is insisted be forgotten that Theobald, the\n on throughout the poem, and the elder brother, was invited by\n reader should note the manner the Normans to become their Duke\n in which L\u00e4helein, though only on the death of Henry I.; but on\n appearing in the Second Book, is arriving in Normandy, and finding\n constantly referred to; which that Stephen had already seized\n seems to indicate that the writer the crown of England, Theobald\n attached a special importance to resigned his claim to the Duchy\n this character, cf. Book III. pp. and threw in his lot with that\n 86 and 87; V. pp. 150, 154; VI. of Stephen. An _English_ writer\n pp. 171, 188; VII. p. 196; IX. p. (such as Mapes) would probably\n 272. (It may be noted that in no have overlooked the part played by\n other version of the legend is a Theobald. An _Angevin_, knowing\n previous marriage of the hero's the Counts of Blois to be the\n mother recorded.) hereditary foes of the House of\n Anjou, would hardly fail to record\n the fact that both brothers were\n concerned in the usurpation of the\n rights of Henry Fitz-Empress.\n\n THE RED KNIGHT THE RED KNIGHT\n\n The Red Knight as represented in This character is of course\n the poem, mounted before the gates traditional, but the special\n of Nantes, in red armour, with red presentment of it in the\n hair. _Parzival_ seems to be owing\n to Angevin influence. In 1048\n William of Normandy, being at war\n with, Geoffrey II. of Anjou and\n besieging Domfront, sent him the\n following curious challenge: 'If\n the Count of Anjou attempts to\n bring victuals into Domfront he\n will find me awaiting him without\n the gates armed and mounted,\n bearing a red shield, and having\n a pennon on my spear wherewith to\n wipe his face.'\n\n _Red hair_ was a distinguishing\n characteristic of the Angevin\n Counts. Fulk I. derived his name\n of Rufus from this peculiarity,\n which was inherited by many of his\n descendants, among them Fulk V.,\n his son Geoffrey Plantagenet, and\n his grandson Henry Fitz-Empress.\n The writer of the _Parzival_\n strongly insists on Ither's red\n hair.\n\n NANTES NANTES\n\n Nantes, throughout the poem, is The possession of the city of\n always treated as Arthur's chief Nantes was a constant source of\n city. Karid\u00f6l is scarcely referred quarrel between the Counts of\n to, the Round Table is kept at Anjou and their neighbours of\n Nantes, and in Book X. we are told Brittany. Time after time the\n that Arthur's palace was there. former claimed the over-lordship\n This is not the case in other of Nantes, which stood just beyond\n versions of the story. their frontier, and more than\n once they succeeded in making\n themselves masters of the coveted\n territory. To represent Nantes\n as Arthur's chief city, and\n Ither as claiming it, would be\n an alteration of the legend most\n natural in an Angevin writer.\n\n Book IX. relates that Kiot sought Britain, France, and Ireland were\n for records of the Grail race in all brought into close connection\n the chronicles of Britain, France, under Henry Fitz-Empress, Count of\n and Ireland, and found the history Anjou, Duke of Normandy, and King\n at last in the chronicle of Anjou. of England, the husband of Eleanor\n of Provence and Aquitaine, who\n conquered Ireland in 1172.\n\n\nThe peculiar presentment of the Knights of the Grail as Templars\n(Templeisen), having their residence in a castle surrounded by a\nforest, recalls the fact that a close connection between the Order of\nTemplars and the House of Anjou had existed for some time previous\nto the date of this poem, a tax for the benefit of the Order having\nbeen imposed on all his dominions by Fulk V. on his return from his\nfirst pilgrimage to Jerusalem in 1120. A community of Knights Templars\nwas founded by Henry Fitz-Empress fifty years later at Vaubourg, in\nthe forest of Roumare which became very famous. (The location of\nMonsalv\u00e4sch in the Pyrenees hardly seems to accord with the indications\nof the poem, which make it only thirty-six hours' ride from Nantes.)\n\nFinally, the name of the poet claimed by Wolfram as his authority,\nKiot=Guiot=Guy, is distinctly Angevin, the hereditary Angevin princely\nnames being Fulk, Geoffrey, and Guy.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nGENEALOGICAL TABLE.\n\n MAZADAN.\n Lassalies.\n Addanz.\n Gandein m. Schoett\u00e8.\n Galoes.\n Gamuret m. (1) Belakan\u00e9.\n Feirefis.\n Gamuret m. (2) Herzeleide.\n PARZIVAL.\n Fleurdamur m. Kingrisein.\n Vergulacht.\n Antikonie.\n Lamire m. Ither of Gaheviess.\n Brickus.\n Daughter unnamed.\n Ither of Gaheviess.\n Uther Pendragon m. Arniv\u00e8.\n Arthur m. Guinevere.\n Ilinot.\n Sangiv\u00e8 m. Lot of Norway.\n Gawain m. Orgeluse.\n Beaucorps.\n Surdamour m. Alexander.\n Kondrie m. Lischois.\n Itonj\u00e8 m. Gramoflanz.\n\n PARENTS UNKNOWN.\n Gurnemanz, wife unnamed.\n Schenteflur.\n Count Laskoit.\n Gurzgrei m. Mahaut.\n Schionatulander.\n Gandelus.\n Liass\u00e9.\n Daughter unnamed, m. King Tampentaire.\n Kondwiramur m. PARZIVAL.\n\nGRAIL KINGS.\n\n Titurel.\n Frimutel.\n Anfortas.\n Trevrezent.\n Schoysiane m. [A]Kiot of Katelangen.\n Sigun\u00e9.\n Herzeleide m. (1) Kastis.\n Herzeleide m. (2) Gamuret.\n PARZIVAL m. Kondwiramur.\n Kardeiss.\n Lohengrin m. Duchess of Brabant.\n Repanse de Schoie m. Feirefis.\n Prester John.\n\n[A] Kiot is brother to King Tampentaire, cf. Book IV. p. 107, therefore\nSigun\u00e9 is cousin to Kondwiramur as well as to Parzival.\n\n\nAPPENDIX B\n\nTHE PROPER NAMES IN 'PARZIVAL'\n\nOne of the marked peculiarities of Wolfram's poem is the number of\nproper names with which it abounds, there being scarcely a character,\nhowever insignificant the r\u00f4le assigned, that is left unnamed. In\nthe other versions of the Perceval legend this is not the case,\nconsequently there are a vast number of names occurring in the\n_Parzival_ to which no parallel can be found elsewhere, and which\nare no unimportant factor in determining the problem of the source\nfrom which Wolfram drew his poem. It would be impossible in a short\nAppendix to discuss the question in all its bearings, but the following\nclassification, based on Herr Bartsch's article on _Die Eigen-namen\nin Wolfram's Parzival_, will give some idea of the wide ground they\ncover:--\n\nI. Names belonging to the original legend, and met with, with but\nlittle variation, in all versions. To this class belong the names of\nPendragon, Arthur, Guinivere, Perceval, Gawain, Kay, Segramor; and the\nnames of such places as Karid\u00f6l=Carduel=Carlisle, Cumberland, Waleis,\nNorgals, Dianasdron.\n\nII. Names derived from a French version of the story, which may be\ndivided into two classes:\n\n (_a_) Names of which we find an equivalent in existing French\n sources, notably Chr\u00eatien, whose poem offers so close a\n parallel to the _Parzival_; examples of this class are\n Gurnemanz=French, _Gornemant_; Peirap\u00e4r=_Beau-repaire_;\n Klamid\u00e9=_Clamadex_; Kingron=_Aguigrenon_; Trebuchet;\n Meljanz de Lys; Lippaut=_Tiebaut_; Gramoflanz=_Guiromelans_\n or _Guiremelanz_.\n\n (b) Names formed by a misunderstanding of a French original:\n such are Soltane, from forest _soutaine_=solitary; Orilus\n de Lalande, from _Li orgueillous de la lande_; and\n similarly, Orgeluse of Logrois, from _La orguelleuse de\n Logres_; Gringuljet, the name of Gawain's horse, from _Li\n gringalet_, which is explained as meaning _cheval maigre\n et alerte_. Ligweiz-prelljus, is _Li guez perellous_, the\n Ford Perilous; and a notable instance of this class is the\n curious name Schionatulander, which is either '_Li joenet\n de la lande_,' 'The youth of the meadow,' or '_Li joenet\n \u00e0 l'alant_,' 'The youth with the dog,' in allusion to the\n cause of the knight's death. Whence Wolfram took this name\n is unknown.\n\nIII. Names borrowed or quoted from other romances of the time, of\nthose to which Wolfram alludes most frequently we know the _Erec_\nand _Iwein_ of Hartmann von Aue; Eilhart's _Tristan_; Heinrich von\nVeldeck's _\u00c6neid_, Chr\u00eatien de Troye's _Clig\u00e8s_, and _Le Chevalier\nde la Charrette_; and the _Niebelungenlied_ and _Dietrich Sage_. He\nalso refers to other romances which have not come down to us, such are\nthe allusions to adventures connected with Gawain in Book VI.; and\nto the death of Ilinot, son of King Arthur, of whom we know nothing.\n(The names derived from these romances are all noted, and their source\ngiven as they occur in the text.) Book I. contains some distinctly\nGerman names, such as Eisenhart, Hernant, and Herlind\u00e8, Friedebrand of\nScotland and Heuteger, the source of these is doubtful, some occur in\nthe Gudrun cycle, but it seems probable that in both instances they\nwere derived from a common source, and, belonging as they do to a North\nSea cycle, they may have reached the poem either through a French or a\nGerman medium.\n\nIV. Names of places and people connected with Wolfram himself, such as\nAbenberg, Wildberg, Erfurt, the Count of Wertheim, Herman of Thuringia,\netc. These were, of course, introduced by Wolfram, and could not have\nexisted in his French source.\n\nV. Classical and mythological names such as Antikonie=Antigone, Ekuba,\nSecundilla, Plato and the Sibyls, Pythagoras, etc., Jupiter, Juno,\nVenus, Amor, Cupid, Lucifer, Ashtaroth, and other of the fallen angels.\n\nVI. Oriental names. In Book IV. we have the Arabic names of the seven\nplanets, a curious coincidence, in view of the alleged Arabic source\nof the Grail-myth as given in Books VIII. and IX. Names of cities such\nas Alexandria, Bagdad, Askalon. This latter is of course equivalent\nto _Escavalon_ in the French versions, and the real name is doubtless\nAvalon, but it is by no means improbable that the change was made not\nby a misunderstanding, but by one who knew the Eastern city, and it\nfalls in with the various other indications of crusading influence\nto be traced throughout the poem. We may add to these the names of\nOriental materials such as Pfellel and Sendal. But when all these have\nbeen classified, there still remains a vast number of names undoubtedly\nFrench in origin, yet which cannot be referred to any known source, and\nmany of which bear distinct traces of Romance or Proven\u00e7al influence.\nSuch names are Anfortas, French, _enfertez_=the sick man, with Prov.\nending _as_; Trevrezent, Prov. _Treu_=peace, _rezems_=redeemed.\nSchoysiane, Prov. _Jauziana_, her husband is Kiot of Katelangen,\n_Guiot_=_Guy_ of _Catalonia_. The son of Gurnemanz, Schenteflur,\nis Prov. _gente-flors_, fair flower. The name of Parzival's wife,\nKondwiramur, Bartsch derives from _Coin de voire amour_, Ideal of true\nlove; an interpretation which admirably expresses the union between the\ntwo. Itonj\u00e8, Gawain's sister, is the French _Idonie_, in Chr\u00eatien she\nis Clarissant. The knight slain by L\u00e4helein at Brimbane is Libb\u00e8als\nof Prienlaskors, Libb\u00e8als being simply the old French _Li-beals_--_le\nbel_, and probably no more a proper name than Orilus, whilst his\ncountry seems derived from Prov. _priendre las cortz_, to seek the\ncourt. The long lists of conquered kings given in Book XV. contain many\nnames of Greek or Latin origin, which have passed through a French\nsource, and many others of distinctly Romance form. It is impossible\nto suppose that a German poet _invented_ these names, and the only\nreasonable explanation seems to be that Wolfram drew largely, if not\nexclusively, from a French poem now lost, and that the language in\nwhich that poem was written partook strongly of a Proven\u00e7al character,\nthe term Proven\u00e7al being applied, as Bartsch points out, not only to\nProven\u00e7al proper, but to the varying forms of the Langue-d'oc.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n NOTES\n\n (_A few Notes signed A. N. are due to Mr. Alfred Nutt._)\n\n\nBOOK I\n\nIntroduction, lines 1-66. This introduction, which is confessedly\nobscure, both in style and thought, appears to have been written\n_after_ the completion of the poem, and to have been intended by the\nwriter to serve both as a key to the meaning of the poem, and as a\ndefence of his method of treatment. That Wolfram was blamed by his\ncontemporaries, notably by Gottfried von Strassbourg, for his lack of a\npolished style, and obscurity of thought, we know; and in _Willehalm_\nhe speaks, in the following words, of the varying judgment passed upon\nhis _Parzival_:--\n\n 'Swaz ich von Parziv\u00e2l gesprach,\n des s\u00een aventiur mich w\u00eeste,\n etzlich man daz pr\u00eeste:\n ir was ouch vil, diez smoethen\n Und baz ir rede w\u00e6hten.\n\nand it is evidently to these critics that the first part of the\nIntroduction is addressed.\n\nLines 1-8 give the key to the whole poem: the contrast between doubt\nor unsteadfastness, and steadfast faith and truth, as imaged in the\ncontrast between darkness and light, black and white. This idea runs\nthroughout the poem, is worked out symbolically in the character and\nexperiences of the hero, and is shown in a concrete form in the person\nof his brother Feirefis. The poet notes that many readers have failed,\nthrough lack of intelligence, to grasp the meaning of this parable,\nwhich is too swift and subtle for their comprehension. A parallel\npassage will be found in Book V. pp. 137, 138, where the figure\nemployed is different.\n\nThe curious lines 15, 16 are explained by B\u00f6tticher as allusions to\n_personal_ assaults made on the poet, which, by reason of the folly of\nthe assailants, missed their mark, and are therefore to be treated with\ncontempt.\n\nLines 29, 30 contain one of the quaint and homely similes which\nabound throughout the poem, and refer to the faithless man, _valsch\ngesellecl\u00eecher muot_, whose honour and steadfastness are not\nsufficiently strong to meet the demands made upon them.\n\nThere are three distinct divisions of the Introduction: the first,\nlines 1-30, is addressed to _men_ only, and draws the contrast between\nthe false and true knight; 31-49 does the same for _women_; while from\n49 onwards the poet shows how the tale he is about to tell affects both\nsexes alike, and gives a slight sketch of the character of the hero.\nFor the rightful understanding of this the lines 61, 62 are of great\nimportance: 'a brave man, yet slowly wise Is he whom I hail my hero'\n(_er k\u00fcene, tr\u00e2ct\u00eeche w\u00ees, den helt ich alsus gr\u00fcene_), and should be\nborne in mind by the student of the poem.\n\nA full and minute discussion of this discussion of this Introduction\nwill be found in Dr. B\u00f6tticher's _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_.\n\nPage 5, line 67--'_Now they do to-day as of old-time_.' The word\nemployed here _w\u00e4lsch_ simply means 'foreign,' but it is evident from\nthe context that France is the country referred to. The _fact_ was\nprobably in the French source, the remarks upon it due to the German\npoet.\n\nPage 5. line 80--'_Gamuret_.' The origin of this name is doubtful;\nin Chr\u00eatien we find a King Ban de Gomeret mentioned, and Wolfram may\nhave derived the name from a French source, Heinmel suggests that\nit comes from Gamor, the son of Anguis, a Saracen prince ruling in\nDenmark, according to 'Arthur and Merlin;' and that the fact of his\nbeing of the race of Anguis suggested to Kiot the possibility of\nmaking him an Angevin. In the absence of any definite knowledge as to\nWolfram's source it is not possible to do more than _suggest_ possible\nderivations.\n\nPage 7, lines 136, 137--'_Gylstram and Rankulat_.' With regard to the\nfirst-named place, Simrock says it has been identified with 'Gustrate'\nin the _Gudrun_, and, according to Grimm, this latter is to be coupled\nwith Gailate, 'where the sun hath its setting.' _i.e._ the West. In\nBook XI. the patriarch of Rankulat is referred to, in company with\nthe Baruch of Bagdad and the Emperor of Constantinople, and in all\nprobability Armenia is meant. The king's speech therefore implies,\n'Didst thou come from the furthest bounds of the earth, East or West.'\n\nPage 8, line 154--'_King Gandein's son_.' Cf. Book IX. p. 285, where\nthe origin of the name Gandein is given.\n\nPage 8, lines 159, 160.--'_Then the tale it hath told a lie_.' Cf. Book\nIX. p. 259.\n\nPage 8, lines 169, 170--'_Rich silk of Orient_' Eastern materials are\nreferred to frequently throughout the poem; the principal seem to have\nbeen, Samite, Sendal, Achmardi, Pfellel, Plialt, and Saranthasme. Of\nthese, some were of silk only, others, notably Saranthasme of silk\ninwoven with gold, Achmardi, in this poem, is always _green_. Samite\nand Sendal are the two generally named in our English romances.\n\nPage 9, line 209--'_Two brothers of Babylon_.' This is Babylon in\nEgypt, now Cairo, as is evident from its close connection with\nAlexandria, cf. p. 12, line 277, and Book II. p. 57, line 684, and p.\n59, line 754. Though, from the passage on p. 57, it seems as if the\npoet confused it with Babylon in Assyria; it is possible that he was\nunaware of the fact that there were _two_ cities of the name.\n\nPage 15, line 384--'_Friedebrand_.' The introduction of names of\ndistinctly northern origin such as Friedebrand, Hernant, and Herlind\u00e8,\nHeuteger, and Eisenhart, has been already noted in Appendix B as one\nof the problems of the _Parzival_. Two solutions have been suggested,\neither that they were introduced by Wolfram, or that they reached the\n_French_ source through the medium of Normandy. The form in which the\nnames occur in the _Gudrun_ cycle seems to indicate quotation from a\nsource known also to the writer of the _Parzival_, but they are not\nderived directly from the North Sea saga in its present form.\n\nPage 16, line 403--'_Wouldst thou know?_' _etc._ It may be interesting\nto note here that beyond the _colour_, which the poet insists on, he\napparently recognises no difference between the heathen and Christian\nknights and ladies. Both acknowledge the same chivalrous ideals; both\nare equally familiar with the eccentricities of 'Minne-dienst' (cf.\nline 423); and the speeches put into the mouth of Belakan\u00e9, or of\nRassalig, would be quite as suitable if spoken by Orgeluse, or by one\nof King Arthur's knights. This incident of a Christian knight marrying\na Moorish princess is of frequent occurrence in Medi\u00e6val romance.\n\nPage 16, lines 423, 424--'_That which like to a hall doth stand_.'\nThe tents of the Medi\u00e6val period were constructed of far more costly\nfabrics than is usual now, cf. Book III. p. 74. and Book XI., and\ntheir size was very great, this special tent we find, from Book II. p.\n36, was 'thirty pack-steeds' burden.' San Marte quotes the description\nof a tent captured by the Crusaders at Antioch which was adorned with\nwalls, towers, and ramparts, contained halls and galleries, and could\nlodge as many as 2000 men.\n\nPage 22, line 620--'_The chiming of sweet bells_.' Bells were at one\ntime freely used not only as ornaments to the trappings of the horses\nbut also on the armour of the knights, cf. Book III. p. 70, and Book\nVI. p. 163. Gradually they disappeared from use, and the bells on the\nFool's dress are the last trace left of the practice, which from this\npoem was evidently very general at the beginning of the thirteenth\ncentury.\n\nPage 23, line 623--'_Brave Beaucorps_.' This brother of Gawain appears\nin Book VI. p. 183, he is the only one of Gawain's brothers mentioned\nin this poem. In Malory, we find _Gareth_ called 'Beau-mains,' and it\nis possible that the two are identical. Beaucorps is evidently much\nyounger than Gawain, and Gareth was the youngest of King Lot's sons.\n\nPage 24, line 679--'_Lahfilirost_.' This seems to be a misunderstanding\nfor '_Le fils du Rost_,' and may be classed with the misinterpretations\nof a French source.\n\nPage 25, line 700--'_Frau Minne_.' The word _Minne_ is etymologically\nderivable from a root 'man,' and is connected with the Latin _mens_,\nEnglish 'mind' (cf. 'to have a mind to.') The original signification\nwas that of tender care, or thought for; in Old High German it has\nalready taken the meaning of love in its passionate aspects; finally,\nin Middle High German (the original language of the _Parzival_), it\nhas become the standing expression for love betwixt man and woman.\nWe have it in various forms as a verb, _Minnen_; as an adjective,\n_Minniglich_. The personification of the passion of Love as 'Frau\nMinne' is the work of the courtly poets of the twelfth century, and\nseems rather to have been derived from classical analogy than to be\ndue to a reminiscence of an early German goddess of Love. Also, with\nWolfram and his contemporaries, 'Frau Minne' must be regarded less as\nthe personification of Love in the abstract than as the embodiment of\nthe special love-ideal of the day. This new ideal had its rise, and\nassumed definite shape in twelfth century France, from whence it spread\nthroughout the knightly society of Christendom, finding its fullest\nliterary expression in the Arthurian romances. The historic causes\nwhich led to what was at the time an entirely novel mode of considering\nthe relations between the sexes, and the true nature and ethical import\nof the chivalric conception of that relation will be briefly discussed\nin an Appendix to vol. II. The significance of the term is fully\napparent from such passages as the present, also cf. Book VI. pp. 161,\n163, 165, 171; VII. 208, 224; XII. etc.--[A. N.]\n\nPage 27, line 768.--'_Morhold_,' also in Book II. p. 39. This is, of\ncourse, the well-known hero in _Tristan_. The allusion may have been in\nthe original French source, or introduced by Wolfram, who would know\nMorhold from the Tristan of Eilhart von Oberge, composed before 1180.\nThe most famous German poem on the subject, the Tristan of Gottfried\nvon Strassbourg, was somewhat later in date.\n\nPage 31, lines 886, 887--Cf. Book VIII. p. 230 and note.\n\nPage 31, line 904--'_Feirefis_.' Bartsch interprets the name as _vair\nfils_, 'parti-coloured son.' Other critics have suggested 'Fairy's\nson.' The name distinctly indicates a French origin.\n\nPage 31, line 905--'_A woodland-waster_,' 'wald-verschwender,' a\nhyperbolical term constantly employed throughout this poem to denote\none who shatters many spears in fight.\n\n\nBOOK II\n\nPage 35, line 16, and page 57, line 705--'_Waleis and Norgals_.' These,\nthe two kingdoms of Queen Herzeleide, are located by Wolfram in Spain,\nbut they are undoubtedly Wales and North Wales (the North galis of\nMalory), the Northern border-land. Parzival's title throughout the poem\nis _der Waleis_, in French versions _le Gallois_, an evident indication\nof the Celtic origin of the story.\n\nPage 39, lines 117-160. Of the heroes taking part in the Tourney, Uther\nPendragon has been mentioned, in Book I. p. 31, in the genealogy of\nGamuret. The poet carefully connects his hero with the traditional\nroyal race of Briton as well as with the princely House of Anjou.\nArthur's mother, Arniv\u00e8 (not Igraine as in most versions), plays a\nsomewhat important r\u00f4le in the later part of the poem, her imprisonment\nin the castle of the Magician Klingsor is fully treated of, cf. from\nBook XI. onwards. King Lot of Norway (not of Orkney as in the English\nlegend) is frequently alluded to as Gawain's father, but both he and\nUther Pendragon are dead before the real action of the poem commences.\nThis is the first appearance of Gawain, who, from Book VI. onward,\nplays a part in the poem scarcely inferior to that of the hero,\nParzival. The Kings of Arragon and Gascony do not appear again, nor are\nthey alluded to, but Brandelidelein of Punturtois we meet with in Book\nXV. as the uncle of King Gramoflanz. The King of Askalon must not be\nconfused with Vergulacht, in Book VIII., this is evidently one of his\npredecessors. Eidegast of Logrois is frequently alluded to later on,\nhis murder by Gramoflanz and the desire of his lady-love, Orgeluse,\nto avenge him, form the _motif_ of the later Gawain episodes. This is\nthe only occasion on which L\u00e4helein appears personally in the poem,\nbut he is constantly alluded to throughout the course of the story\n(some remarks on the manner in which he is introduced will be found in\nAppendix A, p. 293). Morhold, cf. note to Book I. Lambekein, cf. Book\nV. p. 152. Gurnemanz of Graharz plays an important r\u00f4le in the Parzival\nlegend, he is here introduced for the first time, cf. Book III.\n\n_The Tourney._ In this poem we find knightly skill in horsemanship and\nthe use of arms displayed under three distinct forms: the Buhurd, Books\nXII. and XV., The Tourney, Book II., and serious Warfare as in the\nsiege of Pelrap\u00e4r, Book IV., and of Beaurosch, Book VII. The two first\nwere simply intended as displays of knightly skill, and took their rise\nin the knightly sports of the ninth century. The Buhurd seems to have\nbeen the original German form, and at first was of a somewhat rough\nand uncivilised character, the knights riding in bodies at full gallop\nagainst each other, and the whole being a display of force rather than\nof skill.\n\nThe Tourney, or Tournament, took its rise in France, and here we find\nthe knights, in full armour, singly displaying their prowess. Gradually\nthe Buhurd changed its character, and throughout this poem we find\nWolfram treating it as a formal display of skill in horsemanship,\ngenerally to do honour to some favoured guest, as in the reception\nof Gawain and Orgeluse by the knights of the Ch\u00e2teau Merveil, Book\nXII.; in honour of Feirefis, Book XV. Still the idea of force was not\nentirely eliminated, and we find Gawain, in Book VII. when he promises\nthe child Obilot that he will fight for her father, telling her that\n_she_ must ride the Buhurd for him, and, as noted above, the fighting\nhere is in earnest. In the later form of Buhurd the knights wear no\narmour, and it is thus distinguished from the Tourney, where they were\nalways fully armed.\n\nThe Tourney was much more complicated in its rules, and is not\nalways easy to distinguish from the real warfare into which it not\nunfrequently passed. Feirefis, in Book XV., mentions _five_ modes of\nattack which seem to have answered to the regular stages of a Tourney.\nNiedner explains them as follows: (1) An attack by one troop on\nanother, with lance in rest; (2) An attack from the side, also with\nlance; (3) The onslaught of _one_ rider on a troop of horsemen, in\nwhich the aim was to strike the one selected opponent while avoiding\nthe blows of the others; (4) The joust proper, or single combat; (5)\nThe _Damenstick_, a stroke for the honour of the knight's chosen lady,\nwhich followed on the joust, and was specially challenged by knights\nof exceptional valour. In the Tourney at Kanvoleis (the only Tourney\nproper in the poem), it is the two first stages in which Gamuret takes\nno part, he only mingles in the fray when the time arrives to display\nthe valour of the single champions. The joust, or single combat, was a\nfeature of earnest, as of mimic, warfare, and it is not always easy to\ndistinguish between the two.\n\nIn each case the great point was the display of skill in horsemanship,\nand the use of the lance or spear. The knights rode at full speed\ntowards each other, and the aim of each was to strike his opponent in\nthe centre of the shield, 'The four nails,' Book III. p. 98, or at the\nfastening of the helmet, Book IX. p. 257, and Book XII. In either event\nif the blow was well aimed, and delivered with sufficient force, the\nknight was thrown backward off his steed. It might happen that both\nknights were struck, and succeeded in keeping their seat, while their\nspears were shivered, then a second joust must be ridden. If either\nknight were thrown from his saddle, or his steed fell with him, then he\nwas held to be vanquished, but if, as not unfrequently happened, the\ngirth of the saddle broke, and the rider were thrown, _then_ the joust\nwas held to be undecided, and, in the case of real warfare, the issue\nwas fought out with swords on foot. Cf. the combat between Parzival and\nKlamid\u00e9, Book IV. pp. 119, 120. In Book V. we find Parzival and Orilus\nfighting with swords on horseback: this is unusual. In real warfare\nthe knights would fight till one was slain, or till the issue was\nindisputably decided by one being felled to the ground. We occasionally\nfind the combat decided by sheer strength of arm, one knight clasping\nthe other and throwing him to the ground; so Parzival conquers Orilus,\nBook V. p. 149, and Gawain, Lischois, Book X. Both in Tourney and real\nwarfare the fight was generally closed by the vanquished giving his\npledge or surety to the victor, who not unfrequently sent him to yield\nhimself prisoner to some favoured lady, so Parzival sends Kingron,\nKlamid\u00e9, and Orilus to Kunnewaar\u00e9. If the vanquished knight refused to\nyield he would be slain, but this did not often happen. The death of\nIther of Gaheviess is due to a mischance. Armour and horse were the\nprize of the victor, though in the case of the foe being slain it seems\nto have been thought an unknightly deed to take them, such 'robbery\nof the dead' was termed _r\u00earoup_, and Trevrezent, Book IX. p. 273,\nstrongly blames both L\u00e4helein and Parzival for such action.\n\nThe Tourney would often be held simply for honour, the prize being\nsomething comparatively trifling, such as a hawk, cf. Tourney at\nKanedig, alluded to in Book III. p. 77, and again in Book V. p. 155,\nbut occasionally the guerdon was far higher, as at Kanvoleis where the\nband and kingdoms of Queen Herzeleide were the prize of the victor.\nAny disputes would be referred to a court of judges from whose verdict\nthere was no appeal. In such Tourneys it was customary not to retain\nthe horse and armour, but to accept a ransom fixed by the _owner_.\nThis is evidently alluded to in Book II. 45, where we find these rules\ndisregarded in the heat of conflict.\n\nOpposed to this Tourney 'for honour' was the Tourney 'for booty,' when\nthe aim of the knights was to capture as many steeds and make as many\nprisoners as possible, the ransom being fixed by the _captor_. Wolfram\ndoes not mention such a Tourney, but with the decay of knighthood such\nconflicts appear to have almost entirely displaced the nobler strife.\nIt will be understood, of course, that though a joust or single combat\nmight either be settled beforehand, as in the case of Kingrimursel's\nand Gramoflanz' challenge to Gawain, or be brought about by a chance\nmeeting, as when Vergulacht and the knight of Monsalv\u00e4sch fight\nwith Parzival, a Tourney was carefully arranged beforehand, and the\nknights summoned by invitation. The knights generally assembled on the\nSaturday, and the Tourney would be held on the Monday, the interval\nbeing employed in careful inquiry as to the claim of those present\nto take a part in such knightly sport. The knights were divided into\ntwo bodies of equal strength, headed by the most experienced warriors\npresent, and single champions would not unfrequently try their skill\nagainst each other on the eve of the Tourney proper. Not unfrequently\nthe passions of the knights were roused to such a pitch that this\n_Vesper-spiel_ became a serious encounter, and the combatants were\nso exhausted that the Tourney could not be held, as was the case at\nKanvoleis. From the abuses connected with these meetings, which not\nunfrequently lapsed into serious warfare, and caused wanton loss of\nlife, they were looked upon with disfavour by the Church, and in some\ncases were positively forbidden.\n\nPage 42, line 236--'_Rivalein_,' according to Eilhart, the father of\nTristan.\n\nPage 44, line 279--'_I have named unto ye a lady_.' This is the queen\nof France, Anflis\u00e9, whose connection with Gamuret is alluded to in\nBook I. p. 9. This episode was probably suggested by facts in Angevin\nhistory, cf. Appendix. A reference to their connection will be found in\nBook VIII. p. 233.\n\nPage 46, lines 351-60. Galoes the king of Anjou has not been named\nbefore. The name occurs in Hartmann's _Erec_, and may have been\nborrowed from there. The name of his lady-love is given in Book VII. p.\n199. The slayer of Galoes was Orilus, Book III. p. 77.\n\nPage 48, line 406--'_No wife was she but a maiden_.' Book IX. p.\n283, where a full account of Herzeleide's marriage will be found,\n'_Herzeleide_.' The modern German rendering of this name carries\nwith it its own interpretation in the play of words familiar through\nWagner's _Parsifal_, 'Ihr brach das Leid das Herz und Herzeleide\nstarb.' But the original form, Herzeloyde, indicates, in Bartsch's\nopinion, a Southern French modification, _loyde_ being a variant\nof _hildis_, _oildis_. The name Rischoyd\u00e8, we know in its form of\nRichilda, and Herzeloyde seems to come from the same root. Professor\nRhys (_Arthurian Romance_, p. 180) has suggested derivation from the\nWelsh _argelwythes_ = 'the lady,' but the suggestion has not won\ngeneral acceptance.\n\nPage 54, line 614--'_The maid and her lands he won_.' Readers will\ndoubtless remark the fact that though we meet with numerous allusions\nto marriages and marriage festivities throughout the poem, yet in no\nsingle instance is the marriage attended by a religious ceremony. This\nis an indication of the original date of the story, which testifies\nto a very early stage of social development. The original idea of\nmarriage was that of a contract made by mutual consent publicly before\nwitnesses, as we find here in the marriages of Gamuret with Belakan\u00e9\nand Herzeleide, or later on in Book IV., the marriage of Parzival\nand Kondwiramur. The mutual promise being given and witnessed, the\ncontract was complete, and the marriage might be consummated at once.\nThe office of the Church seems at first to have been confined to\nconferring a benediction on a union already completed, and therefore\nwe find that, even so late as the thirteenth century, the religious\nceremony followed, and did not precede, the marriage night. San Marte,\nin his note on the subject, quotes more than one romance of this date\nwhere this is the case, and it was not till the idea of marriage as a\nsacrament had displaced that of marriage as a civil contract that the\nreligious ceremony became essential to a valid union. The fact that\nWolfram, with his high ideas of the binding nature of the marriage-vow,\nnever once mentions the religious ceremony is a strong argument in\nfavour of the presumption that the subject-matter of the _Parzival_\nis considerably older than his treatment of it. Marriage between a\nChristian and a heathen was held to be null and void, and, according\nto the ideas of the age, Herzeleide was fully within her rights in\nclaiming Gamuret as her husband and in regarding his previous marriage\nas non-existent. The costly presents made by the bridegroom, as for\ninstance the gift of Waleis and Norgals to Herzeleide by her first\nhusband, seem to have been a survival of the idea that the woman was\nproperty, to be bought by the intending husband. The bride, on her\npart, gave equally rich gifts, so we find Kondwiramur bestowing castles\nand lands on Parzival, and the mutual interchange of these gifts was an\nessential part of the marriage contract.\n\nPage 56, line 674--'_The panther_.' The badge of the House of Anjou was\na leopard.\n\nPage 59, lines 744, 745. The idea that a diamond might be softened by\nthe application of a he-goat's blood is very old. San Marte says it is\nmentioned by Pliny. Hartmann refers to it in his _Erec_, and it seems\nto have been a general belief in the Middle Ages.\n\n\nBOOK III\n\nThe first two books of this poem are peculiar to Wolfram. Among the\ndifferent versions of the Perceval legend which we possess there is a\ncurious diversity of statement as to the parentage of the hero; though,\nas a rule, they agree in the main facts of the death of his father,\neither before, or shortly after, Perceval's birth, and his being\nbrought up in the desert by his widowed mother.\n\nWith the Third Book we find ourselves on ground common to most\ntranscribers of the legend; and in this and the following books a\ntable of the traditional events contained in the book, with the other\nversions of the story in which they occur, will be given. The following\nare the Romances of the Grail-cycle which deal more particularly with\nthe Perceval legend.--\n\n_Li Conte del Graal_, poem by Chr\u00eatien de Troyes; left unfinished at\nChr\u00eatien's death; it was continued by three other writers; the poem as\nwe have it, is the work of at least four different hands.\n\n_Peredur_: Welsh tale found in the Red Book of Hergest.\n\n_Perceval_: A French prose romance, ascribed by many critics to Robert\nde Borron.\n\n_Sir Percyvelle of Galles_: English metrical romance--author unknown.\n\n_Perceval li Gallois_: French prose romance, also by an unknown writer.\n\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n The son of a widowed mother; Chr\u00eatien: Peredur; Sir Percyvelle.\n Brought up in the desert; Meeting\n with knights and departure for\n Arthur's court.\n\n Meeting with Jeschut\u00e9. 'The Lady _Ibid._\n of the Tent.'\n\n Meeting with Sigun\u00e9. In this place only in _Perceval_,\n later meeting in the other\n versions.\n\n Arrives at Arthur's court and All the versions.\n demands knighthood.\n\n Meeting with the Red Knight; slays Chr\u00eatien: Peredur, and Sir\n him; and takes his armour. Percyvelle closely agree as to\n the meeting. All agree as to the\n wearing of the red armour. In\n Perceval, alone, hero does not\n kill the knight who originally\n owns it.\n\n Laughter of Kunnewaar\u00e9; speech of Chr\u00eatien: maiden and fool;\n Antanor and their smiting by Kay. Peredur; dwarf and companion.\n\n Arrival at castle of old knight, Chr\u00eatien: Sir Percyvelle.\n who counsels hero.\n\n\n(It will be found that, from Books III. to XIII. inclusive, there is a\nvery close parallelism between Wolfram's poem and Chr\u00eatien's share of\n_Li Conte del Graal_.)\n\nIntroduction, lines 1-45. This introduction, like that to Book I.,\nappears to have been written _after_ the completion of the poem, and\nto have been intended by the poet as a defence of his attitude towards\nwomen; certainly the lines 12-15 presuppose certain statements which\nhad aroused the wrath of the lady hearers of the poet. The whole\npassage is interesting on account of its strongly personal character.\nIn Book VI. Wolfram refers more than once to the lady who has wronged\nhim (pp. 163, 166, 191), and in terms that show, as here, that he\nbitterly resented her treatment. The line 'Born was I unto the bearing\nof knightly shield and spear,' is the only definite statement as to the\npoet's rank in life which we possess, and in the light of his lasting\nfame as a poet it is curious to find him holding his gift of song as of\nless account than his knightly deeds, which do not seem to have been\nmore remarkable than those of his fellows.\n\nFrom Book IV. p. 122, we learn that Wolfram was married, and, from the\nconcluding lines of Books VI. and XVI., it is clear that the _Parzival_\nwas composed with a view to winning, or retaining, the favour of a\nlady, but the only direct personal allusion throughout the entire poem\nis that to the Margravine of Heitstein in Book VIII. p. 232, and the\npassage is too vague to allow of our identifying the lady named either\nwith Wolfram's faithless love, or with her for whose sake he composed\nhis poem; certainly the Margravine was not his wife.\n\nPage 67, line 61--'_Soltan\u00e8's strand_.' This is one of the many\ninstances in the poem in which an adjective has been taken as a proper\nname. In the French source it was undoubtedly an adjective meaning\n'solitary,' 'waste.' In Chr\u00eatien we find _la gaste forest soltaine_;\nother versions speak of the woods, or the desert, none but this gives a\nproper name.\n\nPage 69, line 158--'_Ulterleg's Count_.' _Oultre-lac_, 'beyond the\nlake,' cf. Louis D'outremer. This is again an instance of a qualifying\nterm used as a proper name.\n\nPage 72, line 220--'_Meljakanz_.' This exploit is quite in keeping with\nthe character of the knight, cf. Book VII. p. 198. In Malory we meet\nwith the same character, as Sir Meliagraunce; and the story of his\nabduction of Guinevere, and her rescue by Launcelot is there given in\nfull.\n\nPage 72, line 240--'_For some cunning wile of woman_.' It is curious\nto note that nothing comes of these elaborate precautions on the part\nof Herzeleide. Parzival's fool's dress seems to excite very little\nattention, nothing is said of it on his appearance at Arthur's court,\nnor do we hear of any one mocking him for it. The effect produced by\nhis personal beauty is much more strongly insisted upon. There is also\na decided discrepancy between the mother's anxiety to keep her son from\ndanger and her suggestions to him to avenge the wrong L\u00e4helein has done\nhim.\n\nPage 73, line 267--'_L\u00e4helein_,' Cf. Appendix A, and remarks on this\ncharacter. Heinzel suggests that L\u00e4helein=Llewellwyn, a prince of South\nWales who conquered North Wales in 1015. But if a parallel between\nthe boyhood of Parzival and that of Henry Fitz-Empress be intended,\nas seems probable, the Welsh connection is of too early a date.\nThe remarks in Heinzel's pamphlet, 'Ueber Wolfram von Eschenbach's\n_Parzival_,' as to L\u00e4helein being undoubtedly an historical personage,\nare worthy of note. It is remarkable that we find no equivalent to this\ncharacter in other versions of the story.\n\nPage 74, line 287--'_Briziljan's wood_.' Most probably Broceliande,\nwhere so many of the adventures of King Arthur and his knights take\nplace. Undoubtedly this wood was in Brittany, but the localities in the\npoem are much confused.\n\nPage 74, line 297--'_Duke Orilus of Lalande_.' This name is again a\nmisconception of a French original, '_Li Orgueillous de-la-lande_,'\nwhich Wolfram has taken as a proper name. In other versions the lady\nis unnamed. (It may be noted that Wolfram almost invariably names his\ncharacters; and often goes to some trouble to connect them with each\nother, and the main thread of his story. This tendency to account for\neverything, _sum motiviren_, is a marked feature in Wolfram's writings.)\n\nPage 76, line 365--'_Thy brother, King Lac's son Erec_.' An allusion to\nthe Erec of Hartmann von Aue (founded upon Chr\u00eatien's Erec and dealing\nwith the same subject as found in the Welsh tale of _Geraint_ and the\nlate Laureate's Enid) where the tournament at Prurein is described.\n\nPage 77, line 374--'_Proud Galoes_.' The slaying alike of Parzival's\nuncle Galoes, and of his kinsman Schionatulander (p. 80) by Orilus,\nL\u00e4helein's brother, is also peculiar to Wolfram, but it is curious\nthat the _Rache-motif_ thus introduced is not followed up, and when\nParzival overthrows Orilus it is to avenge the shaming of Jeschut\u00e9,\nnor, though Orilus mentions his brother as having won _two_ kingdoms,\nBook V. p. 150, does Parzival connect the mention with the loss of his\nown heritage. This seems to indicate that the special r\u00f4le assigned in\nthis poem to the two brothers was not a part of the original story, and\nhas not been perfectly fitted into the framework.\n\nThe name of Orilus' wife, Jeschut\u00e9, is supposed to be derived from a\nmisunderstanding, Wolfram having interpreted the verb _gisoit_, lay, as\na proper name.\n\nPage 77, line 375--'_The knight Plihopleheri_.' A knight of the Round\nTable mentioned in Hartmann's _Iwein_ (founded on Chr\u00eatien's _Chevalier\nau Lyon_, the subject-matter of which is the same as that of the Welsh\n_Lady of the Fountain_).\n\nPage 78, line 409--This shaming of Jeschut\u00e9 will strongly recall to\nEnglish readers the story of _Enid and Geraint_.\n\nPage 79, line 437--'_Sigun\u00e9 and Schionatulander_.' The loves of these\ntwo are related in Wolfram's unfinished poem of _Titurel_, where the\nfull account of Schionatulander's fatal chase of the hound, or brachet,\nis given. The adventure with the weeping damsel occurs in other\nversions of the Perceval legend, but in none does she play so important\na part as in the _Parzival_, _vide_ Book V. p. 141; Book IX. p. 252;\nand Book XVI. Her parentage is given in Book IX. p. 274.\n\nPage 79, line 466--'_Thou art Parzival_.' The interpretation here given\nof the hero's name betrays clearly its French origin, _Perce-val_.\nIn the Kr\u00f4ne of Heinrich von T\u00fcrlin the writer explains _Val_ as\n_Thal_=valley, or _Furch_=furrow. Wolfram seems to have understood\nit in this second sense, and has given the name a symbolic meaning\npeculiar to himself. In Chr\u00eatien's poem no derivation or interpretation\nof the name is given, and the hero himself guesses his name; nor do the\nspecial terms of endearment, evidently quoted by Wolfram from a French\nsource, occur in Chr\u00eatien's version of the story.\n\nPage 80, line 497--'_'Twas a churl_.' Wolfram's aristocratic contempt\nfor peasants may be noted in other passages, cf. Book II. p. 43, and\nVII. p. 219.\n\nPage 81, line 517--'_Herr Hartmann von Aue_.' Hartmann von Aue was a\nfamous German poet of the twelfth century. If not absolutely the first\nto introduce the Arthurian legends into Germany (Eilhart's _Tristan_ is\nearlier than Hartmann's works), he was the writer who first rendered\nthem popular in that country. His principal poems are _Erec_, written\nabout 1191; and _Iwein_ 1202, both of which are frequently referred\nto by Wolfram. They were founded on two poems by Chr\u00eatien de Troyes,\n_Erec_ and _Le Chevalier au Lyon_, but Hartmann was not a mere\ntranslator; he handled his materials with considerable skill, and with\nan insight into the characters and motives of his _dramatis person\u00e6_\nwhich is distinctly a feature of the German presentment of these\nlegends. Enid and her mother Karnafite are characters in the _Erec_.\nThe story of another of Hartmann's poems, _Der arme Heinrich_, is well\nknown to English readers through Longfellow's version of it in _The\nGolden Legend_.\n\nPage 82, line 534--'_No Kurwenal was his teacher_.' Kurwenal is the\nfriend and tutor of Tristan. In Malory we find the name 'Gouvernail,'\nand it seems probable that here again we have a term denoting an office\nconverted into a proper name.\n\nPage 82, line 549--'_Ither of Gaheviess_.' Ither = Welsh _Id\u00ear_;\nGaheviess = _gas-vies_, old wood. Chr\u00eatien calls him '_de la for\u00eat de\nKinkerloi_.'\n\nPage 82, line 544--'_The Red Knight_.' This character is evidently one\nof the traditional features of the story; though the circumstances of\nthe meeting differ, there is no version without its 'Red Knight.' In\nthose romances of the Grail-cycle in which Perceval has been deposed\nfrom his original position as hero in favour of Galahad, we find the\nlatter wearing the armour, and bearing the title, of the Red Knight.\nHere again Wolfram is the only writer who names him, but it is somewhat\nstartling to find the king of _Cumberland_ claiming _Brittany_. From\nBook IX. pp. 273 and 285, we learn that he was Parzival's kinsman.\nIt may be interesting here, and may help to the better understanding\nof the poem, if we describe the armour of a knight at the end of the\ntwelfth century. The principal piece of defensive armour was the\nHauberk (Halsberg), a coat formed of rings of steel which reached to\nthe knee, and had sleeves ending in iron gauntlets. Attached to this,\nand forming one piece with the Halsberg, was the H\u00e4rsenier, a cap of\nchain mail which was drawn over the head below the helmet. The upper\npart of the face was protected by the 'Nasen-band,' a band of iron\nprovided with eye-holes; and the lower part by the 'Fint\u00e4le,' a part of\nthe 'H\u00e4rsenier' which passed round and over the chin; above this the\nhelmet was fastened. (The use of the word 'visor' in the translation\nis an anachronism, as the visor proper was not introduced till later,\nbut there was no other word which would express what was meant with\nequal brevity and clearness.) Foot and leg were clad in hose of iron,\nand the knee and elbow were specially protected by plates of iron or\n_schinnelier_. Over this harness many knights wore the _Waffen-rock_,\na long sleeveless garment of silk on which the badge of the knight was\nembroidered in gold and jewels. The sword was girt above this garment.\nThe knight would also bear his distinguishing badge on helmet, shield,\nand the truncheon of his spear. The shield was of wood, strengthened\nwith bands of metal, and often decorated with precious stones, cf. the\ndescription of Feirefis' shield in Book XV. The shield was long-shaped,\nthree-cornered, and was held in the left hand close to the body, the\nspear was carried in the right, so that the horse was guided by the\n_knee_, not by the _hand_, of the rider. The spear was a blade of\nsteel, set into a long heft of wood, or reed, _R\u00f6hr_, probably Bamboo,\nsometimes even the rough trunk of a young tree, as in Book IV. p.\n519. Shield and spear were alike painted in the same colours as the\nrobe of the knight, and the horse had a like covering of silk beneath\nthe saddle and over the coat of mail with which it was protected. The\ndescription given by Wolfram of the arms and accoutrement of the Red\nKnight of Parzival, Book IV. p. 19, and Orilus, Book V. pp. 147-148,\n_seq._, will give a very clear idea of the appearance of a knight in\nfull battle-array.\n\nPage 83, line 570--'_To the Table Round I came_.' Here we find an\nallusion to two methods of laying claim to a property. There seems a\ndifference of opinion as to the first; Simrock holds that the pouring\nout of the wine constituted the claim; Bartsch, that the point of\nthe action lay in carrying off some part of the property claimed.\nThis seems the more probable interpretation, the pouring out of the\nwine then, as well as the sprinkling the queen, would be accidental.\nIn Chr\u00eatien the indignation of king and queen at the insult is far\nmore strongly emphasised. The burning of a wisp of straw, as a\ndeclaration of rights claimed, is mentioned by Grimm in his _Deutsche\nRechtsalterth\u00fcmer_.\n\nPage 83, line 586--'_Iwanet_.' The diminutive of Iwein, the well-known\nhero of Hartmann's poem (the Owain, son of Urien of Rheged, of Welsh\ntradition).\n\nPage 83--'_Parzival at the court of King Arthur_.' There are some\ndistinctive features in Wolfram's version of this incident. Parzival's\nbehaviour towards the King, though unconventional, is far less\ndiscourteous than that ascribed to him either by Chr\u00eatien or by the\nEnglish 'Sir Percyvelle.' In Chr\u00eatien's poem, Perceval rides into the\nhall, where he finds the king and courtiers plunged in grief at the\ninsult offered to them by the Red Knight. The king does not reply to\nPerceval's greeting, and the lad rides so close to him that his horse's\nhead knocks off the king's cap. A reason for the failure of the Knights\nof the Round Table to avenge the insult offered by the Red Knight\nis suggested in the fact that they are already wounded in battle.\n[The student of Irish heroic saga cannot fail to recall the strange\ndisability under which the knights of Conchobor's court suffered at\ntimes and which completely prostrated them. The province of Ulster\nwould have lain defenceless were it not that the Cuchulainn alone was\nfree from the disability, and single-handed defied the men of the rest\nof Ireland. There are many points of contrast between the _enfances_ of\nCuchulainn and those of Perceval--A.N.] The kindly feeling shown both\nby Arthur and Guinevere towards Ither is not paralleled in Chr\u00eatien,\nwhere the Red Knight is represented as Arthur's deadliest foe, and\nGuinevere is like to die of shame and wrath at the insult offered to\nher. Chr\u00eatien also places Perceval's refusal to dismount here, whereas\nWolfram places it on his arrival at Gurnemanz' castle. In Chr\u00eatien the\nhero tells the Red Knight of his intention to demand his armour from\nArthur, and there is no trace of the courteous and poetical greeting\nwhich Ither here addresses to Parzival. The confusion of the Red Knight\nwith the hero's own personal foe is of course due to the introduction\nof the L\u00e4helein episode which is peculiar to Wolfram; but Chr\u00eatien has\na most curious passage connected with Perceval's inability to disarm\nhis dead antagonist:\n\n 'Ains auroie par carbon\u00e9es\n Trestout escarbelli\u00e8 le mort,\n Que nule des armes enport;'\n\nwhich as it stands is decidedly difficult of interpretation; while in\nthe English Sir Percyvelle we find the hero saying:\n\n 'My moder bad me,\n Whenne my dart solde brokene be\n Owte of the irene brenne the tree,'\n\nwhich evidently indicates the source of Chr\u00eatien's curious remark. An\nexamination of the different versions seems to show that, while the\nGerman is the fuller and more poetical, the French is here closer to\nthe original form of the story.\n\nPages 85 and 86, lines 635, 658--'_Kay the Seneschal_.' The character\nof Kay is one of the problems of the Arthurian legends. In all the\ntales he is represented as filling the office of Seneschal, and in\nall he is represented as a man of rough manners, violent temper, and\nbitter tongue. The Seneschal (_Senes-schalh_), the oldest servant,\nwas master of the ceremonies, one of the chief personages of a\nroyal household, and not unfrequently the trusted confidant of the\nking; but such a chastisement as Kay here, and in other versions,\ninflicts upon Kunnewaar\u00e9, was distinctly _outside_ his office, and,\ntaking into consideration the standing of Kunnewaar\u00e9 and Antanor,\nquite inconceivable. Here, as in other instances, we have traces of\nan original tradition dating from a time when a far rougher code of\nmanners and customs obtained. Wolfram, while adhering closely to his\nsource, and to the traditional representation of Kay's character, was\nevidently extremely puzzled by the undignified and discourteous part\nallotted to him, and in Book VI. (p. 169) he diverges from the story in\norder to explain what he feels to be a difficulty, and to defend Kay at\nsome length. The Northern French poets apparently felt the same, and as\nKay is generally represented as Arthur's foster-brother they invented\nthe fable that the unknightly traits in his character were due to his\nhaving been committed to the care of a peasant nurse when his mother\ntook charge of the infant Arthur.\n\nPage 85, line 652--'_The maiden Kunnewaar\u00e9_.' The 'laughing damsel'\nseems to be an archaic and misunderstood element in the Grail romances.\nA common incident of folk-tales is for the hero, fool, lout, or\ntatterdemalion, to win to wife a princess who has not laughed or spoken\nfor years by inducing her to do either of these things. Some such\nincident has apparently been woven into an heroic romance, the main\noutlines of which were already fixed, so that the actual conclusion,\nmarriage of the hero with the laughing damsel, has been disturbed.\nNote, however, the homage paid by Parzival to Kunnewaar\u00e9, and her\nevident affection for him (Book VI. pp. 181-185). Her name too is\nsuggestive, it has been derived from _la pucele a la gonne vaire_\n(the maiden with the coloured robe), but in its present form it is\nsuspiciously like Kondwiramur, and it should be noted that it is the\nrejected lover of this queen whom Kunnewaar\u00e9 eventually marries. Is it\npossible that the Perceval romance from which both Chr\u00eatien and 'Kiot'\ndrew contained doublets of this personage? In the one case in her\noriginal, in the other in a modified form. An instructive parallel may\nbe adduced from the saga of Cuchulainn. He is the hero of an Andromeda\nepisode and should by rights wed the delivered heroine, but the story\nbeing already fixed before the episode was assimilated, the heroine is\npassed on to a companion of the hero.--[A. N.]\n\nPage 89, line 766--'_Maestricht, or e'en Cologne_.' German art, in the\nearly Middle Ages, reached its highest level in the Rhenish provinces,\nespecially at Cologne.\n\nPage 91, line 828--'_Gurnemanz of Graharz_.' The old knight who\ninstructs the hero in knightly duties is a traditional part of\nthe story, and belongs to most of the versions. In Peredur, he is\nidentified with the Fisher King, Perceval's uncle. In Chr\u00eatien his name\nis given as Gonemans of Gelbort; in Gerbert, Chr\u00eatien's continuator, he\nis, _Gornemant_ (one of several points of contact between Gerbert and\nWolfram's source).\n\nPage 91, line 847--'_He bade them lead the guest in_.' This is one of\nthe many passages which afford an interesting glimpse of the manners\nand customs of a bygone age. It may be well to summarise here what we\nknow of the reception and treatment of a guest in the Middle Ages. If a\nstrange knight rode into the courtyard of a castle he was received by\nsquires and pages, who held his bridle and assisted him to dismount.\nThe guest was then conducted to a chamber where he was disarmed and\nprovided with suitable robes. In every important household there was a\n_Kleider-kammer_, or wardrobe, presided over by a chamberlain, whose\noffice it was to see that all guests were provided with garments fitted\nto their station. The preparation of these dresses was the work of the\nwomen of the household, and it can have been no light task, as even\nif a whole company arrived they would all expect to be provided with\nthe requisite dress. The guest, being robed, was then conducted to the\ngreat Hall, which was in the upper story of the castle. Half-way on\nthe staircase leading to it, he would be met, and welcomed with the\nkiss of greeting, by both host and hostess (cf. Book IV. p. 107),\nand led by them into the Hall where he would receive the greeting of\nthe assembled company. When all were seated the guest would say who\nhe was, and whence he came, but, if he kept silence on this point, it\nwas not etiquette to ask him till the next morning (cf. Book III. p.\n95). The evening meal then followed, after which, on occasions of great\nfestivity, such as that recounted in Book XIII. (marriage feast of\nGawain and Orgeluse) there would be dancing, otherwise the time seems\nto have been spent in conversation till the appearance of the wine-cup,\n_Nacht Trunk_, gave the signal for separation. Then knights conducted\nthe guest to his chamber, where pages disrobed him, and apparently\nwaited with lighted tapers till he fell asleep. The account given\nhere of Parzival's visit to Gurnemanz gives a very good idea of how\nthe following day would be spent, indeed Wolfram's love for detailed\ndescription, and accuracy of statement render this poem peculiarly\nvaluable to a student of the manners and customs of the Middle Ages.\n\nFrom various hints in the Gawain episodes, notably Books X. and XI.,\nit seems as if the privilege extended to a guest might on occasion be\nconstrued with a freedom decidedly repellent to modern ideas.\n\nPage 96, lines 984, 985--'_Full five shall thy senses be_.' Cf. Book\nIX. p. 200.\n\nPage 98, line 1055--'_The prince bade his daughter hither_.' The\nintroduction of Gurnemanz' daughter, and her incipient love affair with\nParzival is peculiar to this version. There is a curious discrepancy\nto be noted between the apparent susceptibility of the hero here\nand in Book IX. pp. 260, 261, and his indifference to feminine\ncharms displayed elsewhere, notably in his rejection of Orgeluse's\nadvances and neglect of the Ch\u00e2teau Merveil adventure. The latter\npresentment seems most in accordance with Parzival's character; is the\nsusceptibility to be ascribed to the _poet_?\n\nPage 99, line 1080--'_I lose once more a son_.' The sons of the old\nknight are mentioned in other versions, but Wolfram alone names them.\nThe circumstances of Schenteflur's death are recounted in Book IV. p.\n121; the account given of the other two sons is largely borrowed from\nHartmann's _Erec_, where the strife for the hawk at Kanedig, and the\nventure, Schoie-de-la-kurt (which is not a person, but an expedition),\nis fully recounted. Brandigan is Klamid\u00e9's kingdom, cf. Book IV.;\nMabonagrein, his cousin, Book IV. p. 123. Mahaut is another form of the\nname Matilda. From _Titurel_ we learn that Gurzgrei and Mahaut were the\nparents of Schionatulander, Sigun\u00e9's lover, cf. also Book VIII. p. 245\nand note.\n\n\nBOOK IV\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Arrival at besieged city; maiden Chr\u00eatien and his continuator\n of the castle beseeches the hero's Gerbert; Peredur; Sir Percyvelle.\n aid; overthrowal of her enemies\n and final marriage with maiden.\n\n\nName of the maiden; Chr\u00eatien, Blanche-fleur; Sir Percyvelle Lufamour;\nPeredur unnamed.\n\nPage 103, line 17--'_Who rideth astray, etc_.' According to Simrock\nthis passage in the original contains a play upon words which cannot\nbe reproduced in translation: Slegel--schlegel, the word employed for\n_axe_ here, signifying, in some parts of Germany, 'a fallen tree.'\n\nPage 104, line 26--'_The city of Pelrap\u00e4r_.' In Chr\u00eatien the name of\nthe city is 'Beau-repaire,' of which this is evidently the German\nrendering. The substitution of _p_ for _b_ is still a distinguishing\nmark of German pronunciation of French. In _Sir Percyvelle_ it is 'the\nmaiden land.'\n\nPage 104, line 38--'_The King Klamid\u00e9_.' This character is named\nby Wolfram and Chr\u00eatien only; in _Peredur_ he is the Earl; in Sir\nPercyvelle, 'Sowdane.' Chr\u00eatien calls him 'Clamadex,' and it is worthy\nof note that in _Perceval li Gallois_ the son of the Red Knight slain\nby Perceval is called 'Clamadas,' evidently a variant of the same name.\n\nPage 105, line 78--'_My lord the Count of Wertheim_.' Wertheim is in\nLower Franconia. Bartsch thinks either Poppo I. or his son Poppo II. is\nreferred to here. From the expression used, 'my lord,' it seems as if\nWolfram had at one time been in his service.\n\nPage 106, line 89--'_Tr\u00fchending_.' There are three places of\nthis name in the neighbourhood of Eschenbach: Hohen, Alten, and\nWasser-Tr\u00fchending. The latter is still famous for its _krapfen_, a kind\nof pancake.\n\nPage 107, line 119--'_Kiot of Katelangen_ (_i.e._ Catalonia) _and\nManfilot_.' Kiot is the father of Sigun\u00e9, and appears again in Book\nXVI. The account of his marriage with Schoisian\u00e8, her death, and his\nsubsequent adoption of the life of a hermit will be found in Book IX.\np. 274. From Wolfram's unfinished poem of _Titurel_ we learn that\nManfilot was his companion.\n\nPage 107, line 133--'_The twain Isold\u00e9_.' An allusion to Isold\u00e9 la\nBelle, the wife of King Mark of Cornwall, and mistress of Sir Tristan;\nand Isold\u00e9 of the white hand, Tristan's wife.\n\nPage 109, line 208, _seq._--'_Till the cry of heart-sorrow woke him_.'\nThis nocturnal visit of the Lady of the castle to the hero's chamber\nseems to be part of the original tradition, and it is evident by the\napologetic manner in which Wolfram tells the story that he is somewhat\npuzzled by Kondwiramur's conduct. From the Introduction to Book VII.,\nand also from the blame he bestows on Chr\u00eatien for having done a wrong\nto the story, _Diese M\u00e4re unrecht gethan_, we gather that Wolfram set a\nhigh value on fidelity to his source, and these and similar apologetic\npassages must be explained by the unwillingness of the poet to depart\nfrom the traditional form of the legend, while, at the same time, the\nstory, representing as it did the manners and customs of an earlier and\nruder period, was somewhat distasteful to him.\n\nPage 110, line 243--'_Kingron the Seneschal_.' This character is\nAguigrenons in Chr\u00eatien, elsewhere he is unnamed. Mr. York Powell\npoints out that Wolfram's form presupposes an Aguigrenons, which\nwould either indicate that the existing MSS. of Chr\u00eatien, or Chr\u00eatien\nhimself, misread _u_ for _n_, or that Wolfram did _not_ get his version\nby ear as he maintains (or that Wolfram was following a source other\nthan Chr\u00eatien).\n\nPage 114, line 365, seq.--'_The marriage night_.' A similar account\nis given by Gerbert, one of the continuators of Chr\u00eatien. (Chr\u00eatien\nhimself does not record the marriage, which takes place on a later\nvisit of the hero to Beau-repaire.) In Gerbert's version we have an\nindication of later influence, as the motive-power is the recognition\nby both Perceval and his bride of the superiority of virginity to the\nmarried state. Wolfram's version seems far more in accordance with the\ncharacter of the hero, and is probably closer to the original form of\nthe story.\n\nPage 116, line 420--'_Galogandres, Duke of Gippones_.' This character\nand Count Narant only appear here. Uckerland is probably a corruption\nof Oultreland, as noted in Book III.\n\nPage 118, line 505--'_Gringorz_.' The French _Gringoire_--Gregory. All\nthis account of Klamid\u00e9's arms, charger, etc., is peculiar to Wolfram;\nwhose fondness for minute and descriptive detail is a noticeable\ncharacteristic.\n\nPage 121, line 598--'_Dianasdron_.' Dinaderon en Gales in Chr\u00eatien, who\ndoes not mention Karmin\u00f6l. In the roll of King Arthur's knights we find\nsuch names as Sir Dinas, Sir Dinant, Sir Dinadan; all of which seem to\ncome from the same root. The name is probably Keltic, and belongs to\nthe original version of the story.\n\nPage 123, line 660--'_Mabonagrein_.' Cf. Book III. p. 108 and note.\n\n\nBOOK V\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Hero meets with the Fisher King; Chr\u00eatien and continuators:\n visits the Grail Castle, sees Peredur; Perceval; Perceval li\n the Grail, lance, etc., but asks Gallois. (Sir Percyvelle omits\n no question, and is therefore everything connected with the\n reproached by maiden with dead Grail.)\n knight.\n\n\n(The reader will find all this part of the legend, the varying forms\nof the visit to the Grail Castle, the Fisher King, the Grail, etc.,\nfully discussed in Mr. Alfred Nutt's _Studies on the Legend of the Holy\nGrail_.)\n\nPage 131, line 58--'_Abenberg's field_.' Castle and town of Abenberg,\nin the neighbourhood of Eschenbach.\n\nPage 131, line 75--'_Repanse de Schoie_.' This name appears to signify\n'Thought of joy.' The Grail maidens are not named in other versions.\n\nPage 132, line 87--'_Then one to the host would call him_.' This was\nevidently the Court Jester, always a privileged person.\n\nPage 132, lines 109, 110--'_Lignum Aloe_.' Bartsch holds this to be a\nmistake of the poet, who has misunderstood the old French word _Aloer_.\nChr\u00eatien has simply _seces boises_. 'Wildberg' was the home of the\npoet, who is here making allusion to his poverty, as in Book IV. p. 106.\n\nPage 132, line 111--'_And the host had bid them lay him_.' 'The Maimed\nKing' invariably figures in the Grail Romances, whether they deal\nonly with the Quest, as here, or with the early history of the Grail.\nHe is generally wounded through the thighs, either with a lance, or\nwith a sword, but the circumstances under which he receives the wound\nvary greatly. In most of the versions he is met with while engaged in\nfishing, and is known as the Fisher King, or the 'Rich Fisher.'\n\nPage 132, line 125--'_The bleeding lance_.' This is a feature in most\nof the Grail Romances, and seems to have been an original feature of\nthe story, though it had not the close connection with the _Grail_,\nwhich the fully developed Christian legend has given to it. In the\nearlier versions of the story it is the weapon with which the Maimed\nKing was wounded; finally, it became the spear with which our Lord's\nside was pierced on the cross. Wolfram, who never appears to connect\nthe Grail with the Passion, gives it the first meaning. The visit to\nthe Grail Castle is told in varying forms, but the King, the Grail,\nSword, and Lance almost invariably appear, and the hero is either\nPerceval or his companion Gawain, but Perceval is, undoubtedly, the\noriginal hero of the Quest.\n\nPage 133, line 137 and _seq._--'_The Grail Procession_.' In Chr\u00eatien\nthis is much more simply treated. There are two squires bearing\ncandlesticks, and two maidens, one of whom carries the Grail, the other\na silver dish, _tailleor_. Wolfram has evidently seized the opportunity\nto give play to his love of detailed description, and his account of\nthe Grail Feast and the Grail Maidens is far more elaborate than any\ngiven elsewhere.\n\nPage 136, line 223--'_The food-supplying powers of the Grail_.' In\nother romances of the cycle we find similar powers attributed to the\nGrail. Malory, who borrowed largely from the _Queste_ and _Grand S.\nGraal_, gives a like account. There is evidently a connection between\nthis feature of the Grail, and the food-supplying talismans which\nfigure largely in the legendary lore of most countries.\n\nPage 137, line 247--'_A squire who a sword did bear_.' Cf. p. 144,\nlines 472 and _seq._ This incident also occurs in Chr\u00eatien, and in\nvarying form in most of the versions. In this poem the meaning and use\nof the sword are somewhat inexplicable. In Chr\u00eatien that sword will\nbreak in _one_ peril, known only to its maker, and then can be made\nwhole by dipping it in a _lake_. Wolfram's account seems to be based on\na misunderstanding of a French original. In some of the other versions\nthe sword is already broken, and can only be made whole by the achiever\nof the Quest. In Wolfram the sword is a very puzzling feature of the\nstory, with which indeed it seems to have little or no connection.\nThe sword, which breaks in Parzival's deadly combat with his unknown\nbrother, is not _this_ sword, but the one taken from Ither of Gaheviess.\n\nPage 137, line 267--'_The fairest of old men ancient_.' Titurel, cf.\nBook IX. p. 287.\n\nPage 137, line 273--'_'Tis a symbol good, the bowstring_.' Introduction\nto Book I., line 9, and note.\n\nPage 139, line 325--'_The garden of Paradise_.' This is one of the\nallusions which seem to connect the Grail in Wolfram's version with an\nOriental source, cf. p. 135.\n\nPage 141, line 371--'_A hidden hand drew the rope taut_.' Chr\u00eatien has\nthe incident of the drawbridge rising, but in no other version are the\nreproaches addressed to the hero immediately on his leaving the castle,\nthey are invariably put into the mouth of the maiden with the dead\nknight. In the _Perceval_ the maiden's words, 'The Lord hates thee,'\nrecall Wolfram's _Ihr sult varen der sunnen has_, which Bartsch says is\nan ancient formula of declaring a person accurst, and unworthy of the\nlight of day.\n\nPage 141, line 381--'_Doubled the throw of sorrow_.' Cf. Book III. p.\n100; Book II. p. 47. Similes borrowed from games of chance are not\nunusual in this poem.\n\nPage 141, line 397--'_A woman's voice make moan_.' This meeting with\nthe maiden _after_ the visit to the Grail Castle is in most versions\nthe only one. In Chr\u00eatien she now tells the hero his name which he\nlearns or guesses for the first time. It was not improbably this\nincident which led either Wolfram, or his source, to place a first\nmeeting earlier in the story while still retaining one in the original\nposition. Wolfram, with characteristic love for detail, follows up the\nhistory of Sigun\u00e9 far more fully than other writers of the cycle.\n\nPage 142, line 427--'_Monsalv\u00e4sch_.' Probably 'Mont Sauvage,' in\nallusion to its wild and lonely position. A full account of the Grail\nand its keepers is given in Book IX. pp. 270, 271.\n\nPage 143, line 463--'_Lunete_.' A character in Hartmann's _Iwein_, from\nwhich the episode is quoted. Cf. Book IX. p. 252, and opening of Book\nXII.\n\nPage 144, line 475--'_Trebuchet_.' This name is also given in Chr\u00eatien;\nhe is alluded to again p. 147, and in Book IX. p. 281, in connection\nwith the knives of silver mentioned in line 498 of this book.\n\nPage 147, line 595--'_Tenabroc_.' Also p. 133, line 146. This name is\nborrowed from Hartmann's Erec. Chr\u00eatien has 'Danebroc.'\n\nPage 147, line 601--'_Be\u00e0lzenan_.' According to Bartsch this name\nis combined from Proven\u00e7al, _beal_, fair; _enan_, height='the fair\nheight,' which would suit very well with the position of Angers, the\ncapital of Anjou.\n\nPage 152, line 760--'_Wild Taurian, Dodine's brother_.' Cf. Book IX.\np. 265. Taurian does not seem to have been identified, but _Dodine_\nappears, in many of the Arthurian romances, always with the title of\n'Le Sauvage.' So we find him named in Malory. Wolfram seemed to have\ntransferred the characteristic from one brother to the other.\n\nPage 155, line 849--'_Iofreit the son of Id\u00f6l_.' This is the French\nname Geoffrey. Mentioned again in Book VI. line 168. Most critics\nidentify this character with Chr\u00eatien's _Gifl\u00e8s li feus Do_.\n\n\nBOOK VI\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Blood drops on the snow and Chr\u00eatien: Peredur.\n love-trance of hero.\n\n Overthrows Kay and Segramor. (Perceval Li Gallois relates a\n similar incident of Gawain.)\n\n Hero is cursed by Grail messenger Chr\u00eatien: Peredur. (In Perceval\n for his failure to ask the there is a cursing by Merlin.)\n question.\n\n\nPage 159, line 2--'_From Karid\u00f6l and his kingdom_.' Karid\u00f6l=Carduel\nor Cardoile, the Anglo-Norman form of Carlisle. This is undoubtedly\nArthur's original capital, but throughout this poem Nantes seems to\nbe regarded as the royal city. Curiously enough we find the two names\ncombined in Gautier de Doulens, one of the continuators of _Li Conte\ndel Graal_, who introduces, as one of his _dramatis person\u00e6_, Carduel\nof Nantes.\n\nPage 160, line 29--'_Whitsuntide_.' An examination of the Romances will\nshow this statement to be correct; Pentecost and Christmas seem to have\nbeen the two feasts held in especial honour at King Arthur's court.\n\nPage 160, line 49--'_Blood-drops on the snow_.' Both Wolfram and\nChr\u00eatien insist only on the _two_ colours, red and white, and the\nfact that they are puzzled by, and think it necessary to explain, the\npresence of snow at Whitsuntide shows that they are taking over the\nincident from an older source. As a matter of fact it is to be found in\ntales unconnected with the Arthurian cycle, and of varying nationality.\nIn Peredur (Welsh) a raven has settled upon the body of a wild goose\nkilled by a falcon, and the hero thinks of _three_ colours (black, for\nhair; white, for skin; red, for cheeks); in the _Fate of the Sons of\nUsnech_, an Irish tale written down before the middle of the twelfth\ncentury, and probably centuries older, these three colours are likewise\npresent, but it is a calf instead of a wild goose that is slain, and\nit is the heroine, not the hero, who is fascinated by the colours. The\nincident has always been a favourite one with Celtic story-tellers (cf.\n_Argyll Tales_, M'Innes and Nutt, pp. 431-34), and curiously it is the\nslain-_bird_, instead of the slain-_calf_ version which predominates,\nalthough the _Fate of the Sons of Usnech_ is probably the most famous\nof all Irish stories, and no traceable literary influence of the Welsh\ntale upon Irish romance is known. Those familiar with Grimm's fairy\ntales will remember a similar incident in the story of _Snowdrop_,\nwhere the queen pricks her finger, and wishes for a daughter with hair\nas black as the ebony window-frame, skin as white as the snow, and\ncheeks as red as the blood; but here, of course, the 'fascination'\nelement is absent. I have attempted to show ('the _lai_ of Eliduc and\nthe m\u00fcrchen of Schneewittchen,'_Folk Lore_. iii. I), that the Gaelic\nversion of the Schneewittchen type of story represents the earliest\nattainable form of the story.--[A. N.]\n\nPage 162, line 87--'_Segramor_,' or Saigremors. This knight is a\nfamiliar figure in the Arthurian Romances, and the episode is quite in\naccordance with his general character. Chr\u00eatien calls him 'Le Desre\u00e8'\n(uncurbed, impetuous). In Malory he is 'Le Desirous.' Cf. also Book\nVIII. p. 241.\n\nPage 163, line 121--'_To seek for the magic pheasant_.' Simrock thinks\nthis an allusion to a popular folk-tale, in which a magician, condemned\nto death, contrives to escape by setting his judges and executioner to\nseek for the fallen bird, by the irresistible strains of his magic pipe.\n\nPage 166, line 235--'_Heinrich of Veldeck_.' A German poet who lived\ntowards the end of the twelfth century. His translation of the _\u00c6neid_,\nfounded on a French version of the poem, was extremely popular, and\nWolfram frequently refers to it in his _Parzival_.\n\nPage 169, line 321--'_Herman of Thuringia_.' This Landgrave of\nThuringia is well known to history as a generous patron of the\nliterature of his day. His court at the Wartburg was the resort of all\nthe leading poets, and it filled a place in the literary life of the\ntwelfth century only comparable to that taken by the neighbouring court\nof Weimar six hundred years later. The terms in which Wolfram speaks of\nthe guests at the Wartburg is quite in keeping with what is known of\nthe Landgrave's lavish hospitality.\n\nSimrock renders a passage from Walther von der Vogelweide which\ndescribes the tumultuous life of the court as follows:\n\n 'Wer in den Ohren siech ist oder krank im Haupt,\n Der meide ja Thuringen's Hof, wenn er mir glaubt.\n K\u00e4m er dahin, er w\u00fcrde ganz beth\u00f6ret;\n Ich drang so lange zu, dass ich nicht mehr vermag,\n Ein Zug f\u00e4hrt ein, ein andrer aus, so Nacht als Tag,\n Ein wunder ists, dass da noch Jemand h\u00f6ret.'\n\nThe _Wartburg-krieg_, a poem of the end of the thirteenth century,\nin which the principal poets of the age are represented as competing\nin song before the Landgrave, supposes this contest to take place in\n1207, and is doubtless an echo of what was no unusual incident at that\ndate. Wolfram's poem of _Willehalm_ was composed at the wish of the\nLandgrave, and in it he speaks of the death of his patron. Herman died\nin 1216, and the brilliant life at the Wartburg came to an end; his\nsuccessor Ludwig, the husband of S. Elizabeth, having little taste for\nliterature.\n\nPage 169, line 325--'_And so Knight Walter singeth_.' Walther von\nder Vogelweide, one of the most famous of German lyric poets, was of\nknightly birth but small means; he seems to have supported himself by\nhis art, leading a wandering life at the principal courts of his day.\nOf his connection with Wolfram nothing is known, save the fact of their\nbeing together at the court of the Landgrave Herman in the early years\nof the thirteenth century. The line here quoted does not occur in any\nof Walther's extant poems.\n\nPage 169, line 328--'_Heinrich of Rispach_.' Nothing seems to be known\nof the character here referred to. From the fact that there is a\nRispach in the neighbourhood of Eschenbach, Bartsch conjectures that it\nwas some one personally known to Wolfram.\n\nPage 171, line 385--'_The time when the knife's sharp blade_.' Wolfram\nis here quoting from an unknown source. No such adventures are recorded\nin any Romance that has come down to us; but they are quite in keeping\nwith Gawain's character.\n\nPage 176, line 529--'_The right of the Round Table_.' This custom is\nalluded to in other Arthurian Romances, and we meet with it again in\nBook XIII. Here Wolfram seems to imply merely that the king did not eat\nin public with his knights, _i.e._ at the Round Table, before they had\nheard of some knightly venture; in Book XIII. he speaks as if no meal\nmight be partaken of by any of the courtiers till this came to pass.\nThe first rendering seems to be the correct one. [The whole incident\nis thoroughly in keeping with the conventions of early Irish romance,\nin which the personages are invariably subject to strict rules and\nobligations, _geasa_, to use the Irish word.--A.N.]\n\nPage 177, line 585--'_The Grail Messenger_.' This incident occurs\nin both Chr\u00eatien and Peredur, but the messenger is unnamed, or\nsimply termed 'The Loathly Damsel.' Such a damsel is met with in the\n_Perceval_, but when she reaches King Arthur's Court she is transformed\ninto a maiden of surpassing beauty. It will be noted that one of the\nqueens imprisoned in Ch\u00e2teau Merveil also bears the name of Kondrie\n(p. 189). Mr. Nutt, in his _Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail_,\nsuggests this was originally the Loathly Damsel released from the\ntransforming spell. (It may be noted that Wagner has kept this idea,\nand in the first act his Kundrie is the Loathly Messenger; in the\nsecond, 'Kondrie la Belle.') Chr\u00eatien's description of Kondrie's\nappearance is even more repulsive than Wolfram's. In Book X. we have a\ncurious account of the origin of these strange people.\n\n[The 'Loathly Damsel' is one of those personages that most clearly\ntestify to the reliance of the romance-writers upon a traditional\npopular basis, and also in this instance to the specific Celtic origin\nof that popular basis. A commonplace of folk-tales of the 'task' class\nis that the hero is helped by a personage having private ends of his\nor her own to serve, as, until the hero achieves the Quest (which\nhe never does unaided), the helper cannot be released from a spell,\ngenerally of transformation into an animal, but sometimes into a shape\nof surpassingly hideous ugliness. The oldest European variant of this\nlatter type with which I am acquainted is to be found in an Irish\nfolk-tale imbedded in the so-called Cormac's Glossary, a compilation\nof the tenth century. I have given this in full (_Argyllshire Tales_,\nM'Innes and Nutt, pp. 467, 468). In its _outr\u00e9_ horror the description\nof the bespelled king's son strikingly recalls that of Kundrie. Such\na task story, in which the hero is helped by a transformed personage,\nwho cannot be delivered until the Quest is achieved, is one of the\nmain staples of the Perceval cycle, but it is only in the Welsh tale\nof _Peredur_ that the incident appears in a straightforward and\nintelligible form. The sudden transformation from foulness to radiant\nbeauty is met with in another connection earlier in Ireland than\nelsewhere in Europe: the incident of the Perilous Kiss, in which the\nembrace of a courteous knight frees a bespelled damsel from loathly\ndisguise, an incident frequently associated with Gawain, is, as I have\nshown (_Academy_, April 30, 1892), of early occurrence in Ireland.\nAnother element which goes to the complex individuality of Kundrie\ncan be paralleled from early Irish romance. As the female messenger\nof the fairy dynasty of Mazadan, she corresponds to Leborcham, the\nfemale messenger of the semi-mythic King Conchobor, the head and centre\nof the oldest Irish cycle of heroic romance. Like Kundrie, Leborcham\nwas of startling and unnatural hideousness, and she is brought into\nspecial connection with Cuchulainn the chief hero of the Ulster cycle,\nas Kundrie is with Perceval the chief hero of one group of the Arthur\nromances.--A.N.]\n\nPage 181, line 697--'_Ch\u00e2teau Merveil_.' The adventure of this magic\ncastle, achieved by Gawain, is related at length in Book XI.\n\nPage 184, line 806--'_Kingrimursel_.' The name of this character\nin Chr\u00eatien is Guigambresil, of which this is evidently the German\nrendering. Here, again, Wolfram either heard or read Gingambresil.\n\nPage 185, line 839--'_Tribalibot_.' This is India.\n\nPage 186, line 859--'_The heathen queen of Ianfus_.' The name of this\nqueen, we find from line 1009, was Ekuba; one of the few classical\nnames we find in this poem.\n\nPage 189, line 977--'_The Greek, Sir Klias_.' This is Clig\u00e8s, the hero\nof Chr\u00eatien's poem of that name, son of the Greek Emperor Alexander\nand Surdamour, sister to Gawain, cf. Book XII. Malory has Sir Clegis,\nprobably the same name.\n\nPage 190, line 1002--'_Twelve spears of Angram_.' Angram was probably\nin India, and noted for its steel. Oraste-Gentesein seems to be the\nname of the country from which the reed, or bamboo, was brought. Cf.\nBook VII. pp. 218, 219.\n\n\nBOOK VII\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Meeting with army of Meljanz of Chr\u00eatien: Perceval relates\n Lys; Gawain takes part in the the same incident, with the\n tournament, and overthrows Meljanz. difference that Perceval\n overcomes both Gawain and Melians.\n\n\nIntroduction, line 1-16--This passage is somewhat obscure, but the\nmeaning appears to be that the poet thinks he may possibly be blamed\nfor leaving the history of Parzival, his chief hero, to follow the\nfortunes of Gawain; and would excuse himself for so doing by the plea\nof fidelity to his source. Very few of the romances of this date can\nbe considered _original_ works in the sense in which we would now\nemploy that term; they were mostly a re-statement, or re-combining of\ntraditional material, and it was a point of honour to adhere closely,\nin the march of incident, to the original form, though the poet was\nfree to do as Wolfram has done, and introduce personal and contemporary\nallusions, or give his own interpretation of the meaning of the tale.\nThe fact that Wolfram here so strongly blames those who depart from the\ntraditional form of the story, and at the end of his poem specially\naccuses Chr\u00eatien of having sinned in this way, seems a strong argument\nagainst the theory that Chr\u00eatien, and Chr\u00eatien alone, was Wolfram's\nsource of information.\n\nPage 195, line 2--'_Gawain_.' _Gauvain_ (French), _Gwchlmai_ (Welsh).\nIn all the earlier versions of the Grail story this knight plays a part\nonly secondary to that of the chief hero Perceval. Certain episodes\nof which he is sole hero, in Chr\u00eatien as in Wolfram, break the course\nof the Perceval story, though Wolfram, with considerable skill, has\nbrought them into close connection with the main thread of the legend.\nWith Chr\u00eatien's continuators, too, Gawain is an important character,\nhe also visits the Grail Castle and fails to ask the question; and\na German version of the Grail legend, _Diu Kr\u00f4ne_, by Heinrich von\nT\u00fcrlin, makes him the chief hero, it is he who achieves the Quest and\nheals Anfortas. It is noticeable that none of the earlier versions know\nanything of either Lancelot or Galahad as Grail-seekers; Wolfram does\nmention the former, but only incidentally, and throughout his poem he\nevidently looks upon Gawain as the typical Arthurian knight, the pride\nand glory of the Round Table. It is curious that, though he feels\nhimself compelled to apologise for some of the characters, to make an\nelaborate defence for Kay, and find excuses for Kondwiramur, Wolfram\nnever has a word of blame for Gawain, and strong as the contrast is\nbetween his morality and that of Parzival, he certainly never draws a\ncomparison to the disadvantage of the former; as husband of Orgeluse\nand lord of the Ch\u00e2teau Merveil, Gawain's lot in life is brilliant\nenough to awaken the envy of Kay who is jealous for King Arthur's\nhonour. The whole presentment of Gawain in the poem is an eloquent\ncommentary on the moral teaching of the original Arthurian legend, of\nwhich he is the oldest representative. Later compilers seem to have\nfelt this, and as the legend gradually became ecclesiasticised, and\nassumed the form of a religious romance, so the original heroes of\nthe story were gradually supplanted by others, whose characters, in\nthe opinion of monkish compilers lent themselves more to purposes of\nmoral edification. Thus Perceval the married man was forced to yield to\nGalahad the celibate, and, though he was never driven out of the story,\nwas relegated to a secondary position; and Gawain, whose character in\nthe early romances defied any attempt at converting him into a moral\nexample, became merely a foil to the superior virtue of his companions,\nwhile the adventures originally ascribed to him were passed over to\nthe repentant sinner Lancelot. The order of Grail heroes seems to have\nbeen as follows: Perceval, Gawain; Perceval, Gawain, Lancelot; Galahad,\nPerceval, and Lancelot. It is in this last order that they have come\ndown to us through Malory's redaction of the legends.\n\nPage 196, line 34--'_The steed from Monsalv\u00e4sch came_.' Cf. Book IX. p.\n273, where Parzival's possession of a Grail-steed leads to his being\nmistaken for L\u00e4helein.\n\nPage 198, line 96--'_Meljakanz_.' Cf. Book III. p. 72 and note.\n\nPage 198, line 105--'_Meljanz of Lys_.' It will be seen, from the list\nof traditional events given above, that this character appears in other\nversions of the Perceval legends. Though the context is different, the\nname with but little variation appears in other of the Grail romances,\nMalory has Melias de Lile, in every instance the name indicates a\nFrench origin.\n\nPage 198, line 119--'_Lippaut_.' The name of this character in Chr\u00eatien\nis Tiebaut of Tintaguel, the German is evidently a rendering of this\nFrench name. Tintaguel seems to point to a Keltic original.\n\nPage 199, line 124--'_Obie and Obilot_.' Bartsch considers that both\nthese names are derived from a French source, Obie, from the verb\n_obier_, signifying excitable, passionate; Obilot, from the French\n_belot_, a fair child. In Chr\u00eatien the sisters are unnamed, but the\nyounger is called _La puci\u00e8le as mances petites_.\n\nPage 199, line 136--'_Galoes and Annora_.' Here we learn, for the first\ntime, the name of Galoes' love, cf. Book II. p. 46 and note. Annora is\nthe same name as Eleanor.\n\nPage 200, line 168--'_Lisavander_.' The French has several variations\nof this name, Teudaves, Travezdates, Trahedavet.\n\nPage 205, line 318, and p. 219, line 781--'_A charger the king\nbestrode_.' This is an allusion to the captivity of Queen Guinevere\nand her rescue by Lancelot. Kay was among her would-be liberators, and\nwas smitten by Meljakanz: 'enbor \u00fbs dem satele hin, daz in ein ast der\nhelm gevienc, und bi der gurgelen hienc.' This incident is related\nin Hartmann's _Iwein_; but the subsequent freeing of the queen by\nLancelot, referred to on p. 219, is taken from Chr\u00eatien's _Chevalier de\nla Charrette_. The adventure is again alluded to in Book XII.\n\nPage 210, line 493--'_Gawain and Obilot_.' Though Chr\u00eatien and Wolfram\nagree here in the main outline of the story, yet the details differ\ncompletely, and the episode as related by the German poet is far more\ngraceful and poetical in treatment. In Chr\u00eatien the elder sister\nstrikes the younger in the face, and it is in order to avenge this\ninsult that the child begs Gawain to fight for her. It is the father,\nand not the child herself, who suggests presenting the knight with\na token; he bids Gawain at first pay no attention to her request,\nand there is no trace of the pride and affection with which Lippaut\nevidently regards both his daughters, or of the confidence between\nfather and child which is so charming a feature in Wolfram's poem.\nGawain, according to Chr\u00eatien, does not present his little lady\nwith the captured monarch, but only with his steed, a compliment\nshe shares too with his hostess and her daughters. In the French\npoet we have nothing of the amusing assumption of maiden dignity by\nthe child Obilot, or of the graceful courtesy, half serious, half\nlaughing, with which Gawain falls in with her whim, and sustains his\npart in the pretty play. Critics have bestowed much praise on this\nbook, and on the character of the child Obilot, and some have thought\nthat, in the picture of father and child, and in the words put into\nLippaut's mouth, we have a glimpse of the home life of the poet, and\nan expression of personal feeling. In _Willehalm_, Wolfram refers to\nhis daughter's dolls, and throughout his poems he frequently alludes\nto children, their ways, and their amusements. However that may be,\nnowhere else in the poem does _Gawain_ appear to so much advantage as\nin this episode.\n\nPage 211, line 522--'_Parzival_.' Cf. Book VI. p. 188, line 941.\n\nPage 216, line 668--'_Even now shall the Erfurt vineyards_.' _etc._ An\nallusion to the siege of Erfurt by the Landgrave Herman in 1203. As the\npoet speaks of the traces of strife as being yet visible, this book of\nthe Parzival must have been written not long after that date.\n\nPage 217, line 715, and _seq._--'_The captive Breton knights_.' It is\ndoubtful to what romance Wolfram here makes allusion. Chr\u00eatien, in\nhis _Chevalier la Charrette_, relates the capture of some of Arthur's\nknights by King Bagdemagus-Poidikonjonz, when Meljakanz carried off\nGuinevere, but they were released by Lancelot. Wolfram seems to\nhave known another version of the story, as he evidently did know a\nromance dealing with the fate of Arthur's son, Ilinot, of whom we\nknow nothing. He refers to this at length in Book XII. Cluse seems to\nbetoken an enclosed space, a ravine, Chr\u00eatien calls it _Le passage des\npierres_--The Gampilon was a fabulous beast of the dragon type, also\nmentioned in the _Gudrun_.\n\nPage 218, line 733--'_The Red Knight_.' It is worth noticing that,\nthroughout the Gawain episodes, Wolfram never loses sight of his\nprincipal hero; if Parzival does not appear personally, as he does\nin this book, he is always alluded to in direct connection with the\ndevelopment of the story, _e.g._, Book VIII. pp. 242, 243. This is\nnot the case in Chr\u00eatien, where the Gawain episodes are entirely\nindependent. Some critics have evolved an elaborate theory to account\nfor the importance assigned to Gawain in this and following books, and\nmaintain that Wolfram felt that while Parzival was a prey to spiritual\ndoubt and despair, it was more artistic to keep him in the background\nthan to make him the hero of a series of chivalrous adventures. The\nmore probable solution seems to be exactly the opposite, viz., that\nthe Gawain episodes were already introduced into the legend, that\nWolfram, or his source, felt it a flaw that they should have so little\nconnection with the main thread of the story, and therefore conceived\nthe idea of introducing the principal hero, and, by keeping him always\nmore or less _en \u00e9vidence_, making it possible to weave the Gawain\nadventures into the fabric of the legend, instead of leaving them an\nexcrescence on its surface--a conception which was finally perfected by\nthe connection of Orgeluse, Gawain's lady-love, with both Parzival and\nAnfortas, thereby bringing all the different elements of the tale into\ntouch each with the other.\n\n\nBOOK VIII\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Arrival of Gawain at castle; committed to Chr\u00eatien: Peredur.\n care of lady to whom he makes love; is\n attacked by her people and defends himself\n with a chess-board.\n\nThe _Perceval_ gives an account of an adventure with a lady and a\nchess-board of which Perceval is the hero, but the circumstances differ\nentirely, being similar to those of an episode found in _Gautier de\nDoulens_ and also in _Peredur_.\n\nPage 229, line 14--'_Askalon_.' The name of this city in Chr\u00eatien is\nEscavalon, apparently a variant of Avalon. The name in Wolfram may\nbe either a misunderstanding of the French original, or it is not\nimpossible that Askalon, being well known to the Crusaders of that\ntime, was purposely substituted for a similar sounding-title.\n\nPage 230, line 26--'_\u00c6neas and Dido_.' An allusion to the _\u00c6neid_ of\nHeinrich von Veldeck, to which Wolfram often refers. We learn from line\n121 that the writer was already dead. Cf. note, Book VI.\n\nPage 230, line 41--'_Where Mazadan reigned as Monarch_.' Cf. Book I. p.\n31, and Book IX. p. 263. There is evidently a confusion here between\nthe fairy and her kingdom. Fay-Morgan is, of course, the fairy-queen,\nand the name seems later to have been transferred to Arthur's sister,\nwho is called Morgan le Fay in Malory. Terre-de-la-schoie, given in\nBook I. as the name of the lady, is her kingdom; the confusion probably\narises from a misunderstanding of the French source. We find, on p.\n240, that the mother of King Vergulacht, Fleurdamur, was sister to\nGamuret, consequently Parzival and Vergulacht are first cousins, and we\nare meant to understand that Gawain, who, as a lad, had seen Gamuret\nat Kanvoleis (Book II. p. 39), was struck by the king's likeness\nto his uncle and cousin, though he evidently knows nothing of the\nrelationship; cf. Appendix A for notes on the supposed origin of the\nAngevin race.\n\nPage 231, line 58--'_Not such as in Karid\u00f6l_.' This is the longest of\nthe many allusions to the _Erec_ of Hartmann von Aue, and refers to the\nsame incident as Book III. p. 81, cf. note on passage.\n\nPage 232, line 106--'_The Margravine of Heitstein_.' This name varies\ngreatly in the MSS., but both Lachmann and Bartsch give the reading\nin the text. The Margravine mentioned is identified with the wife of\nBerchtold von Chamm and Vohburg, who died in 1204.\n\nPage 233, line 146--'_Of my father's sister_,' _etc._ This line is\ncurious as giving a very early instance of a play upon words familiar\nto us in modern puzzles. Gawain, of course, simply states that he is\n'his father's son,' and gives the queen no information whatever as to\nhis birth.\n\nPage 234, line 181, and _seq._--'_At length did she chance on some\nchess-men_,' _etc._ It should be noted that chess-men, in the Middle\nAges, were often of a very large size, and would form no despicable\nweapons. In Chr\u00eatien's version of the incident he specially speaks of\nthese as ten times larger than other chess-men, and of very hard ivory.\nAdventures in which a chess-board plays a part are of not infrequent\noccurrence in the Grail romances.\n\nPage 234, line 190--'_The Burger maids of Tollenstein_.' Tollenstein is\na town in the neighbourhood of Eschenbach; the allusion is evidently\nto some kind of Carnival sports held there. Mock Tournaments, in which\nwomen took part, are often alluded to in old French and German poems.\nThe point of the allusion evidently is that they fought for mere sport,\nwhile Antikonie fought in defence of her guest, and her action is\ntherefore held the more praiseworthy.\n\nPage 235, line 221--'_The knight who to battle bade him_.' Cf. Book VI.\np. 184 and note.\n\nPage 236, line 257--'_With a lance-thrust by Ekun\u00e2t_.' Ekun\u00e2t has been\nalready named in Book III. p. 99. It seems doubtful whence Wolfram\nderived this incident.\n\nPage 238, line 316--'_As Kiot himself hath told us_.' This is the\nfirst time Wolfram names the source whence he drew his poem. It has\nalready been noted in the Introduction that the existence of this Kiot\nis a matter of debate, as no poem of his has come down to us, and\napparently no other writer mentions his name. This passage should be\ncompared with Book IX. p. 262, where the nature of the MS. in which\nKiot found the story of Parzival and the Grail is stated. It certainly\nseems clear that Wolfram _had_ a source of information other than the\npoem of Chr\u00eatien de Troyes; his other statements as to contemporary\nevents and contemporary literature are perfectly accurate, and we do\nnot find him inventing feigned names for other writers of the day; it\ntherefore seems somewhat unreasonable to conclude, simply because we\nknow nothing of Kiot's work, that Wolfram here, and in other passages,\nis, to put it mildly, inventing an elaborate fiction. The fact of the\ngreat popularity obtained by Chr\u00eatien's version of the Grail legend is\nquite enough to account for the disappearance of a version which, for\nsome reason or other (very probably its curious account of the Grail),\nhad failed to attract the popular fancy.\n\nPage 240, line 363--'_If Turnus thou fain wouldst be_.' An allusion to\nthe _\u00c6neid_ of Heinrich von Veldeck, where Turnus reproaches Tranzes\nfor cowardice, and is answered in much the same strain as Liddamus\nanswers Kingrimursel.\n\nPage 240, line 387--'_Nay, why should I be a Wolfhart?_' This\npassage to line 398 is an allusion to the great German epic, the\n_Niebelungenlied_, the various lays composing which seem to have been\nbrought into order and welded into a literary whole about this time.\nWolfram's version of the cook's appeal to Gunther varies slightly from\nthe received text and probably represents an older form.\n\nPage 241, line 407--'_Sibech ne'er drew a sword_.' This is an allusion\nto the story of Dietrich von Berne, parts of which were incorporated in\nthe _Niebelungenlied_, where, however, this special incident is not to\nbe found. Ermenrich was uncle to Dietrich and Emperor of Rome; Sibech,\nwho seems to have been as faithless as he was cowardly, to avenge a\npersonal injury, counselled the Emperor to a course which brought about\nthe ruin of himself and his people.\n\nPage 242, line 452--'_The wood L\u00e6htamreis_.' Tamreis, as we find from\nBook XII., is the name of a tree, this proper name seems to be combined\nfrom _L\u00e6h_, old French _les_ = near, and _tamreis_ (tamarisk?). The\nknight is, of course, Parzival. Chr\u00eatien has not this incident; which\nis a proof of Wolfram's superior skill in controlling the thread of his\nstory.\n\nPage 245, line 541--'_At Schoie-de-la-Kurt_.' Cf. note to Book III.,\nwhere we find the account of this venture, and of the death of\nGurzgrei, son of Gurnemanz. Gandelus is the brother of Schionatulander,\nSigun\u00e9's love.\n\nPage 247, line 597--'_To the Grail must his pathway wend_.' It is\na very curious feature, both in this poem and in that of Chr\u00eatien,\nthat the Grail Quest, undertaken by Gawain, is allowed to drop into\noblivion. Wolfram only makes one more allusion to it, Book XI., and\nChr\u00eatien apparently ignores it altogether. In other versions of the\nstory, and notably in Chr\u00eatien's continuators, the achievement of\nthe Grail Quest by Gawain is an important feature. It is true that\nChr\u00eatien's portion of the _Conte_ breaks off short before the end of\nthe Gawain episode, and that those who maintain that Wolfram had no\nother source than Chr\u00eatien point to this as a proof of their theory,\nurging that had Chr\u00eatien finished the poem he would undoubtedly have\nbrought Gawain to Monsalv\u00e4sch, and that Wolfram, deserted by his\nsource at this point, carried the Gawain Quest no further. But it must\nbe noted that Wolfram, who, according to this theory, has hitherto\nfollowed Chr\u00eatien with remarkable fidelity, shows no embarrassment at\nthe loss of his guide, but, by bringing Gawain promptly into touch with\nParzival, finishes his poem in a thoroughly coherent and harmonious\nmanner, his conclusion agreeing, in certain peculiar features, with\nhis Introduction, which, also, is unknown to Chr\u00eatien. The simplest\nsolution appears to be that _both_ Chr\u00eatien and Wolfram were in\npossession of a common source, wherein the Gawain episodes were\npresented in an incomplete and abbreviated form. Mr. Nutt points out\nthat the Gawain Quest, as related by Chr\u00eatien's continuators, not only\nfails to agree with Chr\u00eatien's commencement, but also presents features\nmore archaic than those of the Perceval Quest.\n\n\nBOOK IX\n\nTRADITIONAL EVENTS\n\n Hero meets with pilgrims who reproach Chr\u00eatien: Peredur: Perceval\n him for bearing arms on Good Friday, and\n direct him to a hermit, who points out his\n sins and gives him absolution.\n\nIntroduction to line 25. This spirited opening, with its invocation\nof the embodied 'Frau Aventiure,' is peculiar to Wolfram. The entire\nepisode is much more briefly treated by Chr\u00eatien, who brings his hero\nat once in contact with the pilgrims, and has neither the meeting with\nSigun\u00e9 nor the combat with the Grail knight.\n\nPage 251, line 5--'_Frau Aventiure_.' This is a personification of the\n'story' and of the spirit of romantic story-telling. Grimm (_Kl. Sr._\ni. 83-112) claims that we have here a survival of the personifying\ninstinct which led the northern poets to make 'Saga' a daughter\nof Odin. The word itself is simply taken over from French romance\nwhere _or dist l'Aventure_ is a standing initial formula, in which\n_Aventure_ exactly renders the _maere_ of the opening quatrain of the\n_Niebelungenlied_.--[A. N.]\n\nPage 251, line 6--'_Whom Kondrie, to find the Grail_.' Cf. Book VI. p.\n187.\n\nPage 252, line 34--'_The sword that Anfortas gave him_.' Cf. Book V.\npp. 137 and 144, and note.\n\nPage 252, line 47--'_Schionatulander and Sigun\u00e9_.' This is Parzival's\nthird interview with his cousin, who has a much more important r\u00f4le\nassigned to her in this poem than in the other romances. The hero meets\nher at every important crisis in his life; on his first entrance into\nthe world, Book III. p. 79; after his visit to the Grail Castle, Book\nV. p. 141; now, previous to his interview with the hermit; and finally,\nin Book XVI. after he has won the Grail kingdom and been reunited to\nhis wife, he finds her dead, and buries her with her lover. Sigun\u00e9's\nparentage is fully given on p. 274 of this book.\n\nPage 257, line 204--'_The Templar bold_.' This identification of\nthe knights of the Grail with the Templars (Templeisen) is a marked\npeculiarity of Wolfram's poem. Nothing at all answering to the Grail\nkingdom and its organisation, as described in the Parzival, is to be\nfound elsewhere. The introduction of this spiritual knighthood, chosen\nby Heaven, and, with special exceptions, vowed to celibacy, seems\nintended as a contrast with, and protest against, the ideal of worldly\nchivalry and lax morality portrayed in Arthur's court. Are we to\nattribute this feature of the poem to Wolfram himself or to his source?\nJudging from the value Wolfram placed upon fidelity to tradition it\nseems scarcely probable that he would have departed so far from his\nmodel as to introduce such an entirely new and striking element into\nthe story; nor have we any trace of the poet-knight's connection with\nthe order of Templars; but if the writer of the admitted French source\nwas an Angevin, who had been in the East during the Angevin rule in\nJerusalem, the connection is easily explained. Certainly, to judge from\nthe freedom with which the introduction to the story has been handled,\n'Kiot' does not seem to have been hampered with an undue respect for\nthe traditional form of the legend.\n\nPage 258, line 223--'_Nor L\u00e4helein, nor Kingrisein, etc_.' Kingrisein\nis the father of Vergulacht, supposed to have been slain by Gawain, cf.\nBook VIII. p. 240. King Gramoflanz plays an important part in the poem\nfrom Book XII. onward. Count Laskoit, cf. Book III. p. 99.\n\nPage 258, line 230, and _seq._--'_One turning the ground was\nsnow-clad_.' Cf. reference to spring snow in Book VI. p. 160. The\npilgrim train met by Parzival differs in the versions. The Montpellier\nMS. of Chr\u00eatien has three knights and ten ladies; other MSS. one knight\nand twenty ladies. Wolfram's account is more natural and more poetical.\n\nPage 259, line 263--'_Dost thou mean Him, etc_.' The address of the\nknight in Chr\u00eatien is longer and conceived in quite a different spirit.\nIt contains one remarkable passage; speaking of the Crucifixion\nthe knight says: '_Li fol Juis--c'on devroit tuer comme ciens_,' a\nspeech entirely out of keeping with the spirit of love and charity\ncharacterising Wolfram's Old Knight, and Hermit. The German poem is,\nthroughout, remarkable for the wide spirit of tolerance displayed\ntowards those outside the Christian pale; note, _e.g._, Book I. and\nespecially the character of Feirefis as depicted in the two closing\nbooks of the work. The religious teaching in this ninth book is not\nonly fuller than in Chr\u00eatien, but seems based on a much clearer\nrealisation of the position of the _individual_ soul towards its\nCreator. The elementary truths of Christianity are much more fully\nstated, and display a familiarity with the theological speculations\nof the day which renders them peculiarly interesting. There is no\nparallel, either, in Chr\u00eatien to the fine speeches which Wolfram puts\ninto the mouth of his hero. The whole episode in the French poem\nlacks the dignity and impressiveness which stamp it in the German\nversion; it is in this book, and in the account of Parzival's boyhood,\nthat Wolfram's poetical genius touches its highest point, and his\nsuperiority to Chr\u00eatien is most clearly seen.\n\nPage 261, line 337--_'Towards Fontaine Sauvage_,' _etc._ Cf. Book V. p.\n151.\n\nPage 261, line 348--'_Kiot_.' Cf. note to Book VIII. It is noticeable\nthat there is no corresponding passage to this in Chr\u00eatien; the\nexplanation of the Grail mystery given in the _Conte du Graal_ is due\nto Chr\u00eatien's continuators, and occurs in the later part of the poem.\n\nPage 262, line 359--'_Flegetanis_.' A curious contradiction will be\nnoted here. A few lines above we read that no heathen skill could\nhave revealed the mysteries of the Grail, and yet apparently it was a\nheathen who first wrote of them. The whole account of the Grail reads\nlike a not-too-successful attempt to Christianise a purely pagan legend.\n\nPage 263, line 383--'_And in Britain, France, and Ireland, etc_.' Cf.\nAppendix A and note on Mazadan, Book VIII. Nevertheless, the connection\nof the Grail race with the House of Anjou, save through Herzeleide's\nmarriage with Gamuret, is nowhere stated, nor how Titurel was descended\nfrom Mazadan, the ancestor alike of Arthur and of Gamuret.\n\nPage 265, line 465--'_The altar and shrine_.' Wolfram appears to\nbe absolutely correct here; during the Middle Ages, a shrine, or\nreliquary, was generally placed on the altar, the use of a cross was\nof comparatively late date. It is curious that Chr\u00eatien, otherwise\nmore ecclesiastical in his details than Wolfram, has missed the\ncharacteristic feature of the stripped altar; on the other hand, he\nnotes that Perceval spends _Easter_ with the Hermit, and receives the\nSacrament, while Wolfram passes Easter over without mention. (It is\nrather odd to find Chr\u00eatien's Hermit saying _Mass_ on Good Friday!)\n\nPage 267, line 531--'_Ashtaroth_.' Bartsch says that these names are\nderived from Talmudic tradition; Belcimon being Baal-Schemen, a god of\nthe Syrians; Belat, the Baal of the Chaldeans. Rhadamant is, of course,\nthe Greek ruler of the under-world.\n\nPage 267, line 533, and _seq._--'_When Lucifer and his angels_.' The\nbelief that the creation of man was directly connected with the fall of\nthe rebel angels was very widespread, though the relation of the two as\ncause and effect was sometimes the reverse of that stated here. None\nof the editions of the Parzival give a direct reference to the source\nof the curious 'riddling' passage which follows, but the theory of the\nmaidenhood of the earth was a favourite one with Medi\u00e6val writers.\n\nPage 268, line 572--'_Plato and the Sibyls_.' A curious proof of the\nbelief of the Medi\u00e6val Church in the Christian nature of the Sibylline\nprophecies is found in the first line of the _Dies Ir\u00e6_:\n\n 'Dies Ir\u00e6, Dies Illa,\n Solvet s\u00e6clum in favilla\n Teste David cum Sibylla.'\n\nPage 270, line 615, and _seq._--'_The Grail_.' The account of the\nGrail given by Wolfram is most startling, differing as it does from\nevery other account which has come down to us. Wolfram evidently knows\nnothing whatever of the traditional 'vessel of the Last Supper,' though\nthe fact that the virtue of the stone is renewed every _Good Friday_ by\na _Host_ brought from Heaven seems to indicate that he had some idea\nof a connection between the Grail and the Passion of our Lord. Various\ntheories have been suggested to account for the choice of a precious\nstone as the sacred talisman; Birch Hirschfeld maintains that it arose\nentirely from a misunderstanding of Chr\u00eatien's text, the French poet\ndescribing the Grail as follows:\n\n 'De fin or esmeree estoit;\n Pieres pressieuses avoit\n El graal, de maintes manieres,\n Des plus rices et des plus cieres\n Qui el mont u en tiere soient.'\n\nBut how Wolfram, who, in other instances appears to have understood\nhis French source correctly, here came to represent an object of\ngold, adorned with _many_ precious stones, as _a_ precious stone,\ndoes not appear. And it must be noted that this importance assigned\nto a jewel is not out of keeping with the rest of the poem. From the\njewel of Anflis\u00e9, the ruby crown of Belakan\u00e9, and the diamond helmet\nof Eisenhart in the first book, to the long list of precious stones\nadorning the couch of Anfortas in the last, the constant mention of\njewels is a distinct feature of Wolfram's version, and cannot be\nparalleled by anything in Chr\u00eatien. Moreover, in two other instances,\nviz. the armour of Feirefis in Book XV., and the couch of Anfortas\nalready mentioned, mystical and strengthening powers are attributed to\nthem. The MSS. vary in their spelling of the stone, giving _Lapis_,\n_Lapsit_, _Jaspis_, _exillis_, _exilix_ or _erillis_; and it is\nimpossible to identify the stone of the Grail with any known jewel. The\nfact that Wolfram alone of all the writers of this cycle gives this\nversion of the legend, seems to point rather to a peculiarity in his\nsource than to a genuine tradition of the origin of the Grail-myth. In\nany case it is most probable that the responsibility for the statement\nrests with the author of Wolfram's French source rather than with\nWolfram himself.\n\nPage 271, line 665--'_They who took no part in the conflict_.' This\naccount of the neutral angels is partially contradicted by Trevrezent\nin Book XVI. during his last interview with Parzival, when he openly\nadmits that he had spoken untruly in order to induce Parzival to give\nup his Quest for the Grail. This contradiction introduces a good deal\nof uncertainty as to what really is the moral aim of the poem.\n\nPage 273, line 711--'_The white dove I see on its housing_.' This,\nthe badge of the Grail knights, is peculiar to the German poem. Those\nfamiliar with Wagner's _Parsifal_ will not need to be reminded that the\ndove and the swan are represented by him as the sacred birds of the\nGrail. The connection with the swan will be found in Book XVI.\n\nPage 273, line 737--'_O thou son of my sister_.' The relationship of\nuncle and nephew between the hermit and the hero of the Quest obtains\nin most of the versions. The relationship with the wounded king varies,\nsometimes he is the hero's grandfather.\n\nPage 274, line 759--'_Thou wast the beast that hung_,' _etc._ Cf. Book\nII. p. 58. This incident of the mother's dream is peculiar to Wolfram.\n\nPage 274, line 771--'_Repanse de Schoie_.' Cf. Book V. p. 135 and Book\nXVI. She finally marries Feirefis, Parzival's half-brother.\n\nPage 375, line 785--'_But if love the Grail King seeketh_.' This\nexplanation of the wound of Anfortas as the punishment of unlawful love\nis peculiar to Wolfram, and is in accordance with the superior depth\nand spirituality of his treatment of the legend. In the other versions\nthe king is wounded in battle or accidentally. The various remedies\ntried for the wound, related on pp. 276,277, give a curious idea of\nthe surgical skill of the Middle Ages, and seem drawn from a mixture\nof Oriental and classical sources. The names in line 830 are derived\nfrom the Greek, and signify various serpents, with the exception of\nEcidemon, which we learn in Book XV. was an animal greatly feared by\nsnakes, perhaps the Ichneumon. The reference to \u00c6neas and the Sibyl is\nfrom the _\u00c6neid_ of Heinrich von Veldeck.\n\nThe legend of the pelican is well known, and the first part of the\npassage referring to the unicorn, its love for a spotless maiden, was\na widespread fiction of the Medi\u00e6val times, but the assertion that the\ncarbuncle is found under the unicorn's horn seems peculiar to Wolfram,\nand illustrates what has been said above as to his employment of\nprecious stones.\n\nOn p. 281 we find a full account of the influence of the planets upon\nthe wound.\n\nPage 278, line 867--'_A knight should come to the castle_.' This\npromised healing of the king by means of a question put by the hero is\na marked 'folklore' feature of the tale. Mr. Nutt points out in his\n_Studies_ that in the Grail legend we have a version of the well-known\nvisit to a magic castle influenced by two distinct formulas familiar\nto folklore students, (_a_) where the object of the hero is to avenge\nthe death, or wounding, of a relative--the Feud-quest; (_b_) to release\nthe inhabitants of the castle from an enchantment--the un-spelling\nquest. The bleeding lance seems to be connected with the first (perhaps\nalso the sword, but its employment both in Wolfram and Chr\u00eatien is so\nenigmatic that it is difficult to know what import to attach to it),\nthe question with the second. The form of the question differs here;\nin all the other versions it is connected with the Grail: 'Whom serve\nthey with the Grail?' Here, directly with the wounded king, 'What\naileth thee, mine uncle?' Birch Hirschfeld maintains, first, that the\nquestion was a 'harmless invention' of a predecessor of Chr\u00eatien's\n(thus ignoring the archaic character of the incident); secondly, that\nWolfram, having misunderstood Chr\u00eatien's account of the Grail, was\nnaturally compelled to invent a fresh question. Of the two, Wolfram's\nquestion seems distinctly the more natural, and the more likely to\noccur to the mind of a simple youth like Parzival; and he has also\nmade much better use of the incident. It is Parzival's failure in the\nspirit of charity, in the love due 'as a man to men,' that constitutes\nthe sin of the omitted question. Mr. Nutt well remarks that 'It is the\ninsistence upon charity as the herald and token of spiritual perfection\nthat makes the grandeur of Wolfram's poem.'\n\nPage 283, line 1038--'_If a land be without a ruler_.' Here we have\nthe germ of the well-known story of Lohengrin, related in Book XVI.\nWe learn from this passage that Lohengrin's mission was no isolated\ninstance, but a part of the office of the Grail knights. Wolfram's\nwhole presentment of the Grail kingdom, as won by an act of love to\na fellow-man, and used for the benefit of others, offers an ideal,\nnot only curiously modern in tone, but in striking contrast to the\nglorification of spiritual selfishness which we find in other Grail\nromances. Elsewhere, the aim of the achiever of the Quest is purely to\nsave his _own_ soul, and, the task accomplished, he passes away leaving\nthe world none the better for his work. If we look at the concluding\nlines of the poem, Book XVI., we shall find that Wolfram had quite a\ndifferent idea of a man's duty to the world of his day.\n\nPage 283, line 1045--'_King Kastis wooed Herzeleide_.' Cf. Book II. p.\n48.\n\nPage 284, line 1070--The account of Trevrezent's wanderings is\ncurious, as it mixes up fabulous places such as Agremontin, the home\nof the Salamanders, and Fay-Morgan, with such well-known names as\nSeville, Sicily, and Aquilea. Rohas has been identified with a range\nof mountains in Styria; Celli is also in Styria. The derivation of\n'Gandein' from a Styrian town is very curious. Whether the name was in\nWolfram's source or not, we cannot decide, but the connection can only\nhave been introduced by the German poet.\n\nPage 286, line 1127--'_Two mortal sins_.' It is curious that in no\nother version of the story is the slaying of the Red Knight regarded\nas a sin. Here, however, it is quite in keeping with the pronounced\nknightly character of the poem. Ither is Parzival's near kinsman,\napparently both cousin, and uncle by marriage (lines 1108 and 1119),\nand to fight with one connected either by the tie of blood or of\nfriendship is regarded throughout as a breach of knightly faith, cf\nBooks XIV. and XV. where Parzival fights, unwittingly, with Gawain and\nFeirefis. In Chr\u00eatien the hermit tells Perceval that it is his sin\nin causing the death of his mother which has sealed his lips before\nthe Grail; Wolfram seems to regard his silence independently, and, as\nnoted above, the sin, there, seems to be failure in charity and in\nrecognising the bond of universal brotherhood; which failure, indeed,\nis at the root of the 'two mortal sins.'\n\nPage 287, line 1159--'_Titurel_.' The father of the Fisher King is not\nnamed in Chr\u00eatien, and indeed is only alluded to in an obscure and\nenigmatical passage as being nourished by the Grail. This statement is\npeculiar to these two writers, and seems to indicate that they were in\npossession of a common source.\n\nPage 287, line 1169--'_An thou wouldst that thy life be adorn\u00e8d_.' The\npassage which follows here to line 1180 should be noted, as it seems to\nbe an interpolation; it has no connection whatever with the context,\nand is in quite a different tone from the knightly and unecclesiastical\ncharacter of the rest of Trevrezent's teaching.\n\n\n\n\n Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to Her Majesty\n at the Edinburgh University Press\n\n\n\n\n WORKS ON CELTIC PHILOLOGY AND ANTIQUITIES\n\n PUBLISHED OR SOLD BY\n\n DAVID NUTT, 270 STRAND.\n\n WAIFS AND STRAYS OF CELTIC TRADITION.\n\n Series initiated and directed by LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL.\n\n Demy 8vo, cloth.\n\n ARGYLLSHIRE SERIES. VOLUME I.\n\n CRAIGNISH TALES.\n\nCollected by the Rev. J. MACDOUGALL; and Notes on the War Dress of the\nCelts by LORD ARCHIBALD CAMPBELL. xvi, 98 pages. 20 plates. 1889. 5s.\n\n VOLUME II.\n\n FOLK AND HERO TALES.\n\nCollected, Edited (in Gaelic), and Translated by the Rev. D. MACINNES:\nwith a Study on the Development of the Ossianic Saga, and copious Notes\nby ALFRED NUTT. xxiv, 497 pages. Portrait of Campbell of Islay, and Two\nIllustrations by E. GRISET. 1890. 15s.\n\n VOLUME III.\n\n FOLK AND HERO TALES.\n\nCollected, Edited (in Gaelic), Translated, and Annotated by the\nRev. J. MACDOUGALL; with an Introduction by ALFRED NUTT, and Three\nIllustrations by E. GRISET. 330 pages. Cloth. 10s. 6d.\n\n VOLUME IV.\n\n THE FIANS:\n\nWest Highland Traditions of Fionn MacCumhail and the Fians.\n\nCollected during the past forty years. Edited (in Gaelic) and\nTranslated by the Rev. J. G. CAMPBELL of Tiree; with Introduction and\nBibliographical Notes by ALFRED NUTT. 8vo. 300 pages. Cloth. 10s. 6d.\n\n * * * * *\n\n BESIDE THE FIRE.\n\n IRISH GAELIC FOLK STORIES.\n\nCollected, Edited, Translated, and Annotated by DOUGLAS HYDE, M.A.;\nwith Additional Notes by ALFRED NUTT. 8vo. lviii, 203 pages. Cloth. 7s.\n6d.\n\n THE IRISH PRINTED IN IRISH CHARACTER.\n\n\nBY WHITLEY STOKES, LL.D.\n\n =ON THE CALENDAR OF OENGUS.= Comprising Text, Translation,\n Glossarial Index, Notes. 4to. 1880. xxxi, 552 pp. 18s.\n\n =SALTAIR NA RANN= (Psalter of the Staves or Quatrains). A\n Collection of early Middle-Irish Poems. With Glossary. 4to.\n 1883. vi, 153 pp. 7s. 6d.\n\n =THE BODLEY DINNSHENCHAS.= Edited, Translated, and Annotated.\n 8vo 1892. 2s. 6d.\n\n =THE EDINBURGH DINNSHENCHAS.= Edited, Translated, and\n Annotated. 8vo 1893. 2s. 6d.\n\n *** The Dinnshenchas is an eleventh-century collection of\n topographical legends, and one of the most valuable and\n authentic memorials of Irish mythology and legend. These two\n publications give nearly three-fourths of the collection as\n preserved in Irish MSS. The bulk of the Dinnshenchas has never\n been published before, either in Irish or in English.\n\n\nBY PROFESSOR KUNO MEYER.\n\n =CATH FINNTRAGA.= Edited, with English Translation. Small 4to.\n 1885. xxii, 115 pp. 6s.\n\n =MERUGUD UILIX MAICC LEIRTIN.= The Irish Odyssey. Edited, with\n Notes, Translation, and a Glossary. 8vo. 1886. xii, 36 pp.\n Cloth. Printed on handmade paper, with wide margins. 3s.\n\n =THE VISION OF MAC CONGLINNE.= Irish Text, English Translation\n (revision of Hennessy's), Notes and Literary Introduction.\n Crown 8vo. 1892. liv, 212 pp. Cloth, 10s. 6d.\n\n *** One of the curious and interesting remains of medi\u00e6val\n Irish story-telling. A most vigorous and spirited Rabelaisian\n tale, of equal value to the student of literature or Irish\n legend.\n\n\nBY ALFRED NUTT.\n\n =STUDIES ON THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL=, with Especial\n Reference to the Hypothesis of its Celtic Origin. Demy 8vo.\n xv, 281pp. Cloth. 10s. 6d. net.\n\n 'Une des contributions les plus pr\u00e9cieuses et les plus\n m\u00e9ritoires qu'on ait encore apport\u00e9es \u00e0 l'\u00e9claircissement de\n ces questions difficiles et compliqu\u00e9es.'--Mons. Gaston Paris\n in _Romania_.\n\n 'These charming studies of the Grail legend.'--_The Athen\u00e6um._\n\n 'An achievement of profound erudition and masterly argument,\n and may be hailed as redeeming English scholarship from a\n long-standing reproach.'--_The Scots Observer._\n\n =CELTIC MYTH AND SAGA.= Report upon the Literature connected\n with this subject 1887-1888. (_Arch\u00e6ological Review_,\n October 1888.) 2s. 6d.\n\n =THE BUDDHA'S ALMS-DISH AND THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY GRAIL.=\n (_Arch\u00e6ological Review_, June 1889.) 2s. 6d.\n\n =CELTIC MYTH AND SAGA.= Report upon the Literature connected\n with these subjects, 1888-1890. (Extract from _Folk-Lore_,\n June 1890.) 1s. 6d.\n\n =REPORT UPON THE CAMPBELL OF ISLAY MSS.= in the Advocates'\n library at Edinburgh. (Extract from _Folk-Lore_, September\n 1890) 1s.\n\n =REVIEW OF HENNESSY'S EDITION OF MESCA ULAD.= (_Arch\u00e6ological\n Review_, May 1889.) 1s. 6d.\n\n =CRITICAL NOTES ON THE FOLK AND HERO TALES OF THE CELTS.=\n (_Celtic Magazine_, August to October, 1887.) 5s.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n\n Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were\n silently corrected.\n\n Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.\n\n Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.\n\n Bold markup is enclosed in =equals=.\n\n Asterisms are denoted by ***.","title":"Parzival: A Knightly Epic (vol. 1 of 2)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":135344}