BOOK III

PARZIVAL

VOL. I

BOOKS I.-IX.

PARZIVAL

A KNIGHTLY EPIC

BY

WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH

TRANSLATED BY

JESSIE L. WESTON

VOL. I

ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894.

NEW YORK

G. E. STECHERT & CO.,

1912.

TO THE MEMORY OF

RICHARD WAGNER

WHOSE GENIUS HAS GIVEN FRESH LIFE

TO THE CREATIONS OF MEDIÆVAL ROMANCE

THIS TRANSLATION IS

DEDICATED

CONTENTS

BOOK PAGE

INTRODUCTION ix

I. GAMURET 1

II. HERZELEIDE 33

III. GURNEMANZ 63

IV. KONDWIRAMUR 101

V. ANFORTAS 127

VI. ARTHUR 157

VII. OBILOT 193

VIII. ANTIKONIE 227

IX. TREVREZENT 249

APPENDICES 289

NOTES 299

INTRODUCTION

In presenting, for the first time, to English readers the greatest

work of Germany's greatest mediæval poet, a few words of introduction,

alike for poem and writer, may not be out of place. The lapse of nearly

seven hundred years, and the changes which the centuries have worked,

alike in language and in thought, would have naturally operated to

render any work unfamiliar, still more so when that work was composed

in a foreign tongue; but, indeed, it is only within the present century

that the original text of the _Parzival_ has been collated from the

MSS. and made accessible, even in its own land, to the general reader.

But the interest which is now felt by many in the Arthurian romances,

quickened into life doubtless by the genius of the late Poet Laureate,

and the fact that the greatest composer of our time, Richard Wagner,

has selected this poem as the groundwork of that wonderful drama, which

a growing consensus of opinion has hailed as the grandest artistic

achievement of this century, seem to indicate that the time has come

when the work of Wolfram von Eschenbach may hope to receive, from a

wider public than that of his own day, the recognition which it so well

deserves.

Of the poet himself we know but little, save from the personal

allusions scattered throughout his works; the dates of his birth

and death are alike unrecorded, but the frequent notices of

contemporary events to be found in his poems enable us to fix with

tolerable certainty the period of his literary activity, and to judge

approximately the outline of his life. Wolfram's greatest work, the

_Parzival_, was apparently written within the early years of the

thirteenth century; he makes constant allusions to events happening,

and to works produced, within the first decade of that period; and as

his latest work, the _Willehalm_, left unfinished, mentions as recent

the death of the Landgrave Herman of Thuringia, which occurred in 1216,

the probability seems to be that the _Parzival_ was written within the

first fifteen years of the thirteenth century. Inasmuch, too, as this

work bears no traces of immaturity in thought or style, it is probable

that the date of the poet's birth cannot be placed much later than 1170.

The name, Wolfram von Eschenbach, points to Eschenbach in Bavaria as

in all probability the place of his birth, as it certainly was of his

burial. So late as the end of the seventeenth century his tomb, with

inscription, was to be seen in the Frauen-kirche of Ober-Eschenbach,

and the fact that within a short distance of the town are to be

found localities mentioned in his poems, such as Wildberg, Abenberg,

Trühending, Wertheim, etc., seems to show that there, too, the life of

the poet-knight was spent.

By birth, as Wolfram himself tells us, he belonged to the knightly

order (Zum Schildesamt bin Ich geboren), though whether his family was

noble or not is a disputed point, in any case Wolfram was a poor man,

as the humorous allusions which he makes to his poverty abundantly

testify. Yet he does not seem to have led the life of a wandering

singer, as did his famous contemporary, Walther von der Vogelweide;

if Wolfram journeyed, as he probably did, it was rather in search of

knightly adventures, he tells us: 'Durchstreifen muss Der Lande viel,

Wer Schildesamt verwalten will,' and though fully conscious of his

gift of song, yet he systematically exalts his office of _knight_

above that of _poet_. The period when Wolfram lived and sang, we

cannot say _wrote_, for by his own confession he could neither read

nor write ('I'ne kan decheinen buochstap,' he says in _Parzival_; and

in _Willehalm_, 'Waz an den buochen steht geschrieben, Des bin Ich

kunstelos geblieben'), and his poems must, therefore, have been orally

dictated, was one peculiarly fitted to develop his special genius.

Under the rule of the Hohenstaufen the institution of knighthood had

reached its highest point of glory, and had not yet lapsed into the

extravagant absurdities and unrealities which characterised its period

of decadence; and the Arthurian romances which first found shape in

Northern France had just passed into Germany, there to be gladly

welcomed, and to receive at the hands of German poets the impress of an

ethical and philosophical interpretation foreign to their original form.

It was in these romances that Wolfram, in common with other of his

contemporaries, found his chief inspiration; in the _Parzival_,

his master-work, he has told again the story of the Quest for, and

winning of, the Grail; told it in connection with the Perceval legend,

through the medium of which, it must be remembered, the spiritualising

influence of the Grail myth first came into contact with the brilliant

chivalry and low morality of the original Arthurian romances; and

told it in a manner that is as truly mediæval in form as it is modern

in interpretation. The whole poem is instinct with the true knightly

spirit; it has been well called _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_, the

knightly song of songs, for Wolfram has seized not merely the external

but the very soul of knighthood, even as described in our own day by

another German poet; Wolfram's ideal knight, in his fidelity to his

plighted word, his noble charity towards his fellow-man, lord of the

Grail, with Its civilising, humanising influence, is a veritable 'true

knight of the Holy Ghost.' In a short introduction such as this it

is impossible to discuss with any fulness the fascinating problems

connected with this poem, one can do no more than indicate where the

principal difficulties lie. These may be briefly said to be chiefly

connected with the source from which Wolfram derived his poem, and

with the interpretation of its ethical meaning. That Wolfram drew

from a French source we know from his own statement, he quotes as his

authority a certain 'Kiot the Provençal,' who, in his turn, found his

information in an Arabian MS. at Toledo. Unfortunately no such poet,

and no such poem, are known to us, while we do possess a French version

of the story, _Li Conte del Graal_, by Chrêtien de Troyes, which,

so far as the greater part of the poem (_i.e._ Books III. to XIII.)

is concerned, shows a remarkable agreement not only in sequence of

incidents, but even in verbal correspondence, with Wolfram's work.

Chrêtien, however, does not give either the first two or the last

three books as we find them in Wolfram. The account of Perceval's

father, and of his death, is by another hand than Chrêtien's, and does

not agree with Wolfram's account; and the poem, left unfinished by

Chrêtien, has been continued and concluded at great length by at least

three other writers, who have evidently drawn from differing sources;

whereas Wolfram's conclusion agrees closely with his introduction, and

his whole poem forms the most harmonious and complete version of the

story we possess. Wolfram knew Chrêtien's poem, but refers to it with

contempt as being the wrong version of the tale, whereas 'Kiot' had

told the venture aright. The question then is, where did Wolfram really

find those portions of his poems which he _could not_ have drawn from

Chrêtien? Is 'Kiot' a real, or a feigned, source?

Some German critics have opined that Wolfram really knew no other poem

than Chrêtien's, and that he boldly invented all that he did not find

there, feigning another source in order to conceal the fact. Others

have maintained that whether 'Kiot' be the name of the writer or not,

Wolfram certainly had before him a French poem other than _Li Conte del

Graal_.

It certainly seems in the highest degree improbable that a _German_

poet should have introduced the Angevin element, lacking in Chrêtien;

Wolfram's presentment of the Grail, too, differs _in toto_ from any we

find elsewhere, with him it is not the cup of the Last Supper, but a

precious stone endowed with magical qualities. It is true that Chrêtien

does not say _what_ the Grail was, but simply that '_du fin or esmeree

estoit, pieres pressieuses avoit el graal de maintes manieres_,' yet it

seems scarcely likely that Wolfram should have interpreted this as a

precious stone, to say nothing of sundry Oriental features peculiar to

his description. But whence Wolfram derived his idea of the Grail is a

problem which it is to be feared will never now be completely solved.

The discussion as to the ethical meaning Wolfram attached to the story

seems more hopeful of results, as here we do possess the requisite

data, and can study the poem for ourselves. The question between

critics is whether Wolfram intended to teach a purely religious lesson

or not; whether the poem is an allegory of life, and Parzival a symbol

of the Soul of man, hovering between Faith and Doubt, perplexed by the

apparent injustice of God's dealings with men, and finally fighting

its way through the darkness of despair to the clear light of renewed

faith in God; or have we here a glorification of the knightly ideal? a

declaration of the poet-knight's belief that in loyal acceptance of,

and obedience to, the dictates of the knightly order, salvation is to

be won? Can the true knight, even though he lack faith in God, yet by

keeping intact his faith with man, by very loyalty and steadfastness

of purpose, win back the spiritual blessing forfeited by his youthful

folly? Is Parzival one of those at whose hands 'the Kingdom of Heaven

suffereth violence'? It may well be that _both_ these interpretations

are, in a measure, true, that Wolfram found the germ of the religious

idea already existing in his French source, but that to the genius of

the German poet we owe that _humanising_ of the ideal which has brought

the _Parzival_ into harmony with the best aspirations of men in all

ages. This, at least, may be said with truth, that of all the romances

of the Grail cycle, there is but one which can be presented, in its

entirety, to the world of to-day with the conviction that its morality

is as true, its human interest as real, its lesson as much needed now

as it was seven hundred years ago, and that romance is the _Parzival_

of Wolfram von Eschenbach.

Some words as to the form of the original poem, and the method

followed in translation, may be of interest to the reader. The

original _Parzival_ is a poem of some 25,000 lines, written in an

irregular metre, every two lines rhyming, _reim-paar_. Among modern

German translators considerable difference of opinion as to the

best method of rendering the original appears to exist. Simrock has

retained the original form, and adheres very closely to the text; his

version certainly gives the most accurate idea of Wolfram's style;

San Marte has allowed himself considerable freedom in versification,

and, unfortunately, also in translation; in fact, he too often gives

a paraphrase rather than a reproduction of the text. Dr. Bötticher's

translation omits the Gawain episodes, and, though close to the

original, has discarded rhyme. It must be admitted that Wolfram is

by no means easy to translate, his style is obscure and crabbed, and

it is often difficult to interpret his meanings with any certainty.

The translator felt that the two points chiefly to be aimed at in an

English version were, that it should be faithful to the original text,

and easy to read. The metre selected was chosen for several reasons,

principally on account of the length of the poem, which seemed to

render desirable a more flowing measure than the short lines of the

original; and because by selecting this metre it was possible to

retain the original form of _reim-paar_. As a general rule one line

of the English version represents two of the German poem, but the

difference of language has occasionally demanded expansion in order to

do full justice to the poet's meaning. Throughout, the translator's

aim has been to be as literal as possible, and where the differing

conventionalities of the thirteenth and nineteenth centuries have made

a change in the form of expression necessary, the _meaning_ of the poet

has been reproduced, and in no instance has a different _idea_ been

consciously suggested. That there must of necessity be many faults and

defects in the work the writer is fully conscious, but in the absence

of any previous English translation she can only hope that the present

may be accepted as a not altogether inadequate rendering of a great

original; if it should encourage others to study that original for

themselves, and learn to know Wolfram von Eschenbach, while at the same

time they learn better to understand Richard Wagner, she will feel

herself fully repaid.

* * * * *

The translator feels that it may be well to mention here the works

which have been principally relied on in preparing the English

translation and the writers to whom she is mostly indebted.

For the Text Bartsch's edition of the original _Parzival_, published

in _Deutsche Classiker des Mittelalters_, has been used throughout, in

connection with the modern German translation by Simrock.

In preparing the Notes use has been made of Dr. Bötticher's

Introduction to his translation of the _Parzival_, and the same

writer's _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_; San Marte's translation has

also been occasionally referred to.

The Appendix on proper names has been mainly drawn up from Bartsch's

article on the subject in _Germanistische Studien_; and that on the

Angevin allusions from Miss Norgate's _England under the Angevin

Kings_, though the statements have been verified by reference to the

original chronicles.

For all questions connected with the Perceval legend in its varying

forms the authority consulted has been _Studies on the Legend of the

Holy Grail_, by Mr. Alfred Nutt, to whom, personally, the translator is

indebted for much valuable advice and assistance in preparing this book

for publication.

BOOK I

GAMURET

ARGUMENT

In the Introduction the poet tells of the evil of doubt and

unsteadfastness--against which he would warn both men and

women; he will tell them a tale which shall speak of truth and

steadfastness, and in which many strange marvels shall befall.

Book I. tells how Gamuret of Anjou at the death of his father,

King Gandein, refused to become his brother's vassal, and went

forth to seek fame and love-guerdon for himself. How he fought

under the Baruch before Alexandria, and came to Patelamunt.

How Queen Belakané was accused of having caused the death of

her lover Eisenhart, and was besieged by two armies, which

Friedebrand, King of Scotland, Eisenhart's uncle, had brought

against her. How Gamuret defeated her foemen, and married the

Queen, and became King of Assagog and Zassamank. How he grew

weary for lack of knightly deeds, and sailed away in secret

from Queen Belakané, and left her a letter telling of his

name and race. How Feirifis was born, and how Gamuret came to

Seville.

BOOK I

GAMURET

If unfaith in the heart find dwelling, then the soul it shall

reap but woe;

And shaming alike and honour are his who such doubt shall

show,

For it standeth in evil contrast with a true man's dauntless

might,

As one seeth the magpie's plumage, which at one while is

black and white.

And yet he may win to blessing; since I wot well that in his

heart, 5

Hell's darkness, and light of Heaven, alike have their lot

and part

But he who is false and unsteadfast, he is black as the

darkest night,

And the soul that hath never wavered stainless _its_ hue and

white!

This my parable so fleeting too swift for the dull shall be,

Ere yet they may seize its meaning from before their face

'twill flee, 10

As a hare that a sound hath startled: yea, metal behind the

glass,

And a blind man's dream yield visions that as swift from the

eye do pass,

For naught shall they have that endureth! And at one while

'tis bright and sad,

And know of a truth that its glory but for short space shall

make ye glad.

And what man shall think to grip me, where no hair for his

grasp shall grow, 15

In the palm of mine hand? The mystery of a close clasp he

sure doth know!

If I cry aloud in such peril, it 'seemeth my wisdom well.

Shall I look for truth where it fleeteth? In the fire that

the stream doth quell,

Or the dew that the sun doth banish? Ne'er knew I a man so

wise,

But was fain to learn the wisdom my fable doth ill disguise, 20

And the teaching that springeth from it: for so shall he

ne'er delay

To fly and to chase as shall fit him, to shun and to seek

alway,

And to give fitting blame and honour. He who knoweth the

twain to tell,

In their changing ways, then wisdom has tutored that man

right well.

And he sits not o'er-long at leisure, nor his goal doth he

overreach, 25

But in wisdom his ways discerning, he dealeth with all and

each.

But his comrade, of heart unfaithful, in hell-fire shall his

portion be,

Yea, a hailstorm that dims the glory of a knightly fame is

he.

As a short tail it is, his honour, that but for two bites

holds good,

When the steer by the gad-fly driven doth roam thro' the

lonely wood. 30

And tho' manifold be my counsel not to _men_ alone I'ld

speak,

For fain would I show to women the goal that their heart

should seek.

And they who shall mark my counsel, they shall learn where

they may bestow

Their praise and their maiden honour; and the manner of man

shall know

Whom they freely may love and honour, and never may fear to

rue 35

Their maidenhood, and the true love they gave him of heart so

true.

In God's sight I pray all good women to keep them in wisdom's

way,

For true shame on all sides doth guard them: such bliss I for

them would pray.

But the false heart shall win false honour--How long doth the

thin ice last,

If the sun shineth hot as in August? So their praise shall be

soon o'erpast. 40

Many women are praised for beauty; if at heart they shall be

untrue,

Then I praise them as I would praise it, the glass of a

sapphire hue

That in gold shall be set as a jewel! Tho' I hold it an evil

thing,

If a man take a costly ruby, with the virtue the stone doth

bring,

And set it in worthless setting: I would liken such costly

stone 45

To the heart of a faithful woman, who true womanhood doth

own.

I would look not upon her colour, nor the heart's roof all

men can see,

If the heart beateth true beneath it, true praise shall she

win from me!

Should I speak of both man and woman as I know, nor my skill

should fail,

O'er-long would it be my story. List ye now to my

wonder-tale: 50

And this venture it telleth tidings of love, and anon of woe,

Joy and sorrow it bringeth with it. 'Stead of _one_ man if

_three_ ye know,

And each one of the three hath wisdom and skill that outweigh

my skill,

Yet o'erstrange shall they find the labour, tho' they toil

with a right good-will

To tell ye this tale, which I think me to tell ye myself,

alone, 55

And worn with their task and weary would they be ere the work

was done.

A tale I anew will tell ye, that speaks of a mighty love;

Of the womanhood of true women; how a man did his manhood

prove;

Of one that endured all hardness, whose heart never failed in

fight,

Steel he in the face of conflict: with victorious hand of

might 60

Did he win him fair meed of honour; a brave man yet slowly

wise

Is he whom I hail my hero! The delight he of woman's eyes,

Yet of woman's heart the sorrow! 'Gainst all evil his face he

set;

Yet he whom I thus have chosen my song knoweth not as yet,

For not yet is he born of whom men this wondrous tale shall

tell, 65

And many and great the marvels that unto this knight befell.

NOW they do to-day as of old time, where a foreign law holds

sway

(Yea, in part of our German kingdom, as ye oft shall have

heard men say),

Whoever might rule that country, 'twas the law, and none

thought it shame

('Tis the truth and no lie I tell ye) that the elder son

might claim 70

The whole of his father's heirdom--And the younger sons must

grieve,

What was theirs in their father's lifetime, they perforce at

his death must leave.

Before, all was theirs in common, now it fell unto one alone.

So a wise man planned in his wisdom, that the eldest the

lands should own,

For youth it hath many a fair gift, but old age knoweth grief

and pain, 75

And he who is poor in his old age an ill harvest alone doth

gain.

Kings, Counts, Dukes (and no lie I tell ye) the law holdeth

all as one,

And no man of them all may inherit, save only the eldest son,

And methinks 'tis an evil custom--So the knight in his

youthful pride,

Gamuret, the gallant hero, lost his Burg, and his fair lands

wide, 80

Where his father had ruled with sceptre and crown as a mighty

king,

Till knighthood, and lust of battle, to his death did the

monarch bring.

And all men were sore for his sorrow, who truth and unbroken

faith

Bare ever throughout his lifetime, yea even unto his death.

Then the elder son he summoned the princes from out his land, 85

And knightly they came, who rightly might claim from their

monarch's hand,

To hold, as of yore, their fiefdoms. So came they unto his

hall,

And the claim of each man he hearkened, and gave fiefs unto

each and all.

Now hear how they dealt--As their true heart it bade them,

both great and small,

They made to their king petition, with one voice from the

people all, 90

That to Gamuret grace and favour he would show with true

brother's hand,

And honour himself in the doing. That he drive him not from

the land

But give him, within his kingdom, a fair Burg that all men

might see,

That he take from that Burg his title, and he held of all

tribute free!--

Nor the king was ill-pleased at their pleading, and he quoth,

'A small grace, I trow, 95

Have ye asked, I would e'en be better than your prayer, as ye

straight shall know,

Why name ye not this my brother as Gamuret Angevin?

Since Anjou is my land, I think me the title we _both_ may

win!'

Then further he spake, the monarch, 'My brother in sooth may

seek

Yet more from my hand of favour than my mouth may as swiftly

speak, 100

With me shall he have his dwelling--I would that ye all

should see

How one mother alike hath borne us; his riches but small

shall be,

While I have enough; of free hand would I give him both lands

and gold,

That my bliss may be ne'er held forfeit by Him, Who can aye

withhold,

Or give, as He deemeth rightful!' Then the princes they heard

alway, 105

How the king would deal well with his brother, and they

deemed it a joyful day!

And each one bowed him low before him. Nor Gamuret long

delayed,

But he spake as his heart would bid him, and friendly the

words he said:

'Now hearken, my lord and brother, if vassal I think to be

To thee, or to any other, then a fair lot awaiteth me. 110

But think thou upon mine honour, for faithful art thou and

wise,

And give counsel as shall beseem thee, and help as thou shalt

devise.

For naught have I now save mine armour, if within it I more

had done,

Then far lands should speak my praises, and remembrance from

men were won!'

Then further he spake, the hero: 'Full sixteen my squires

shall be, 115

And six of them shall bear harness; four pages give thou to

me

Of noble birth and breeding, and nothing to them I'll spare

Of all that my hand may win them. Afar in the world I'ld

fare,

(Somewhat I ere now have journeyed,) if Good Fortune on me

shall smile,

I may win from fair women favour. If a woman I serve awhile, 120

And to serve her she hold me worthy, and my heart speaketh

not amiss,

True knight shall I be and faithful! God show me the way of

bliss!

As comrades we rode together (but then o'er thy land did

reign

The King Gandein, our father), and sorrow and bitter pain

We bare for Love's sake! At one while I knew thee as _thief_

and _knight_, 125

Thou couldst serve, and thou couldst dissemble, for the sake

of thy lady bright.

Ah! could I steal love as thou couldst, if my skill were but

like to thine,

That women should show me favour, then a blissful lot were

mine!'

'Alas! that I ever saw thee,' spake, sighing, the king so

true,

'Who lightly, with words of mocking, my heart would in pieces

hew 130

And would fain that we part asunder! One father hath left us

both

A mighty store of riches, I would share with thee, nothing

loth.

Right dear from my heart I hold thee; red gold and jewels

bright,

Folk, weapons, horse, and raiment, take thou as shall seem

thee right,

That thou at thy will mayst journey, and thy free hand to all

be known. 135

Elect do we deem thy manhood, didst thou Gylstram as

birthplace own,

Or thou camest here from Rankulat, yet still would that place

be thine,

Which thou boldest to-day in my favour; true brother art thou

of mine!'

'Sir King, thou of need must praise me, so great is thy

courtesy!

So, courteous, thine aid be given, if thou and my mother free 140

Will share with me now your riches, I mount upward, nor fear

to fall,

And my heart ever beateth higher--Yet I know not how I should

call

This life, which my left breast swelleth! Ah! whither wouldst

go mine heart?

I would fain know where thou shalt guide me--'Tis time that

we twain should part.'

And all did the monarch give him, yea, more than the knight

might crave, 145

Five chargers, picked and chosen, the best in his land he

gave

High-couraged, swift to battle; and many a cup of gold,

And many a golden nugget, for naught would his hand withhold.

Four chests for the road he gave him, with many a jewel rare

Were they filled. Then the squires he took him who should for

the treasure care, 150

And well were they clad and mounted; and none might his grief

withhold

When the knight gat him unto his mother, who her son in her

arms did fold.

Spake the woman, as woman grieving: 'Wilt thou tarry with me

no more,

King Gandein's son? Woe is me! yet my womb this burden bore

And the son of my husband art thou. Is the eye of God waxed

blind, 155

Or His ear grown deaf in the hearing, that my prayer doth no

credence find?

Is fresh sorrow to be my portion? I have buried my heart's

desire,

And the light of mine eyes; will He rob me, who have suffered

a grief so dire,

Who judgeth with righteous judgment? Then the tale it hath

told a lie,

That spake of His help so mighty, Who doth help unto me

deny!' 160

'God comfort thee,' quoth the hero, 'for the death of my

father dear,

For truly we both must mourn him--But I think from no lips to

hear

Such wailing for my departing! As valour shall show the way,

I seek knighthood in distant countries--So it standeth with

me to-day.'

Quoth the queen, 'Since to high love's service thou turnest

both hand and heart, 165

Sweet son, let it not displease thee to take of my wealth a

part

That may serve thee upon thy journey; let thy chamberlain

take from me

Four chests, each a pack-horse burden, and heavy their weight

shall be.

And within, uncut, there lieth rich silk of Orient rare,

No man as yet hath cut it, and many a samite fair. 170

Sweet son, I prithee tell me what time thou wilt come again,

That my joy may wax the greater, and I look for thee not in

vain!'

'Nay, that I know not, Lady, nor the land that shall see my

face,

But wherever I take my journey, thou hast shown unto me such

grace

As befitteth knightly honour: and the king he hath dealt with

me 175

In such wise that grateful service his rewarding shall ever

be.

And this trust have I, O Lady, that for this thou wilt love

him more

Henceforward, whate'er the future yet keepeth for me in

store.'

And as the venture telleth, to the hand of this dauntless

knight,

Thro' the favour he won from a woman, and the working of true

love's might, 180

Came a token fair, and its value was full thousand marks, I

trow,

E'en to-day an a Jew were craving a pledge, he would deem

enow

Such jewel, and ne'er disdain it--'Twas sent by his lady

true,

And fame did he win in her service, and her love and her

greeting knew,

Yet seldom his pain found easing--Then the hero he took his

leave 185

Of mother, brother, and brother's kingdom, and many I ween

must grieve

Since his eyes never more beheld them. And all who his

friends had been,

Ere he passed from the land of his fathers, tho' the grace

were but small, I ween,

He gave them of thanks full measure; he deemed they too much

had done,

And, courteous, little thought him, that of right he their

love had won! 190

Straighter his heart than straightness; did one of his

praises speak

In a full and fitting measure, then doubt were not far to

seek,

But ask ye of those his neighbours, or of men who in distant

lands

Had seen his deeds, then the marvel ye were swifter to

understand.

And Gamuret he trode ever where Temperance aye should guide, 195

And naught else might rule his doings, nor he boasted him in

his pride

But bare great honour meekly; from loose ways he e'er had

flown;

And he thought him, the gallant hero, that none bare on earth

a crown,

Were they King, or Queen, or Kaiser, whom he deemed of his

service worth

Were they not the mightiest reckoned of all monarchs that be

on earth. 200

This will in his heart he cherished--Then men spake, at

Bagdad did reign

A monarch so strong and powerful, that homage he well might

claim

From two-thirds or more of earth's kingdoms. The heathen his

name held great,

And they spake of him as the Baruch, and kings did on his

bidding wait,

And crownèd heads were his servants; and his office it lasts

to-day-- 205

See how Christian men baptizèd to Rome wend their pilgrim

way,

So there was the heathen custom. At Bagdad was their papal

right,

And the Baruch as 'seemed his office purged their sins with

his word of might.

From Pompey and Ipomidon, two brothers of Babylon,

Nineveh, the town of their fathers, the Baruch with force had

won, 210

And bravely 'gainst him they battled. Then came the young

Angevin,

And the Baruch he showed him favour, yea, he did to his

service win

Gamuret the gallant hero--And he deemed it were well he bore

Other arms than Gandein his father had given to him of yore.

Then the hero he well bethought him; on his charger's cloth

they laid 215

An anchor of ermine fashioned, and the same at his will they

made

For shield alike and vesture--And green as the emerald rare

Was his riding-gear, and 'twas fashioned and wrought of

Achmardi fair,

('Tis a silken stuff,) and he bade them to make of it at his

will

Both blazoned coat and surcoat, (than velvet 'tis richer

still;) 220

And he bade them to sew upon it the anchor of ermine white,

And with golden threads inwoven was the badge of this gallant

knight.

And his anchors they never tested or mainland or haven fair

And found in that place abiding--But the hero must further

bear

Thro' many a land, a brave guest, the load of this heraldry, 225

And behind the sign of this anchor but short space might his

resting be,

And nowhere he found abiding--The tale of the lands he saw,

And the vessels in which he sailed him? If the truth unto ye

I swore,

On mine own oath must I swear it, and my knightly honour true

In such wise as the venture told me; other witness I never

knew! 230

And men say that his manly courage held the prize in far

heathendom,

In Morocco's land, and in Persia, and elsewhere he high

honour won,

At Damascus and at Aleppo, and where knightly deeds should

be:

In Arabia and lands around it was he held of all conflict

free,

For no man might dare withstand him, he won him such crown of

fame; 235

And his heart for honour lusted, and all deeds were brought

to shame,

And became as naught before him, as all men bare witness true

Who a joust with him had ridden, and Bagdad of his glory

knew.

And his heart never failed or faltered, but onward his course

he bare

To Zassamank's land and kingdom; there all men wept that hero

fair, 240

Eisenhart, who in knightly service gave his life for a

woman's smile;

Belakané thereto constrained him, sweet maid she, and free

from guile.

(Since her love she never gave him, for love's sake did the

hero die,)

And his kinsmen would fain avenge him, and with force and

with subtlety

Their armies beset the maiden, but in sooth she could guard

her well 245

Ere Gamuret came to her kingdom, and her wrath on her foemen

fell.

For the Prince Friedebrand of Scotland, and his host that

against her came

By ship, ere he left her kingdom had she wasted with fire and

flame.

Now hear what befell our hero; storm-driven he was that day,

And scarce might he win to safety, and his boat in the haven

lay 250

Beneath the royal palace; and the folk they beheld him there,

And he looked around on the meadow, and he saw many tents

stand fair

Around the town, save the sea-coast, and two armies he

thought to see.

Then he bade them to tell the story, and whose that fair Burg

should be?

Since he knew it not, nor his shipmen--And an answer they

straightway gave, 255

'Twas Patelamunt; then the townsfolk a boon from the knight

would crave,

And their speech it was soft and friendly--In the name of

their gods they'ld pray

He should help them, so great their peril that in danger of

death they lay.

When the young Angevin had hearkened to the tale of their

bitter pain,

He proffered to them his service for such payment as knight

may gain, 260

(As it oft shall befit a hero)--They should say for what

goodly prize

He should dare the hate of their foemen? And they answered

him in this wise

With one mouth the hale and the wounded--Naught would they

from him withhold,

But lord should he be of their treasure, of their jewels

alike and gold,

A fair life should he lead among them!--But such payment he

little sought, 265

For many a golden nugget from Araby had he brought.

And dark as night were the people who in Zassamank dwelt

alway--

And the time it seemed long unto him that he need in their

midst must stay--

But he bade them prepare a lodging, and methinks it became

them well

The best of their land to give him, since awhile he with them

would dwell. 270

And the women they looked from the windows, and they gazed on

the noble knight,

And they looked on his squires, and his harness, how 'twas

fashioned for deeds of might.

Then they saw how the knight, free-handed, on his shield of

ermine bare

Full many a pelt of sable; the Queen's Marshal he read it

fair,

The badge, for a mighty anchor, and little he rued the sight, 275

If his eye spake the truth unto him ere this had he seen the

knight,

Or one who bare his semblance--At Alexandria it needs must

be,

When the Baruch besieged the city--and unequalled in strife

was he!

So rode the gallant hero, in stately guise and meet;

Ten pack-horses heavy-laden they led first adown the street, 280

And twenty squires behind them; and his people they went

before,

And lackeys, cooks, and cook-boys, at the head of the train

they saw.

And stately I ween his household, twelve pages of lineage

high

Rode next to the squires, well-mannered, and trained in all

courtesy,

And Saracens were among them; and behind them in order fair 285

Came chargers eight, and a covering of sendal did each one

bear.

But the ninth it bore a saddle, and the shield ye have known

ere now

Was borne by a squire beside it, and joyful his mien, I trow.

And trumpeters rode behind it, for in sooth they must needs

be there,

And a drummer he smote his tambour, and swung it aloft in

air. 290

And as naught had the hero deemed it, this pomp, if there

failed to ride

Men who on the flute were skilful, and three fiddlers were at

their side,

And they hasted not nor hurried; and behind them the hero

came,

And his shipman he rode beside him, a wise man of goodly

fame.

And much folk was within the city, and Moors were both man

and maid. 295

Then the hero he looked around him, and, lo! many a shield

displayed,

Battle-hewn and with spear-thrust piercèd they hung on each

wall and door.

And wailing and woe was their portion; for the knight at each

window saw

Many men lie sorely wounded, who to breathe the air were

fain,

And e'en tho' a leech might tend them no help might they

think to gain 300

Who were hurt too sore for healing--In the field had they

faced the foe,

And such shall be their rewarding who in conflict no flight

will know--

Many horses were led towards him, sword-hewn and with lance

thrust through;

And on each side stood dusky maidens, and black as the night

their hue.

Then his host gave him kindly greeting--and of joy did he

reap his meed-- 305

A rich man was he and mighty, and many a knightly deed

With thrust and blow had his hand wrought when his post at

the gate he found;

And many a knight was with him, and bandaged their heads and

bound,

And their hands in slings were holden; yet tho' sorely

wounded still

They did many deeds of knighthood, nor were lacking in

strength and skill. 310

Then the Burg-grave of the city, with fair words did he pray

his guest

To deal with him and his household in such wise as should

seem him best.

And the host, he led the hero to his wife, and courteously

Did Gamuret kiss the lady, small joy in the kiss had he!

Then they sat them down to the table, and e'en as the feast

was o'er, 315

The Marshal he gat him swiftly to the queen, and the tidings

bore,

And craved from her goodly payment, as to messenger shall be

due.

And he spake, 'It shall end in gladness, the grief that

erewhile we knew,

We have welcomed here, O Lady, a knight of such gallant mien,

We must thank the gods who have sent him, for our need they

have surely seen.' 320

'Now tell me upon thine honour who this gallant knight may

be?'

'Lady, a dauntless hero, and the Baruch's man is he,

An Angevin he, of high lineage; Ah me! little did he spare

Himself, when his foemen seeking he forth to the field would

fare.

How wisely, with skill and cunning, he avoided the

threatening blow, 325

And turned him again to the onslaught! Much sorrow he wrought

his foe--

Ere this have I seen him battle, when the princes of Babylon

Their city of Alexandria had fain from the Baruch won,

And with force from its walls would drive him, and many a man

lay dead

In the overthrow of their army, for their venture was but

ill-sped. 330

And such deeds did he do, this hero, that no counsel was

theirs but flight:

And there did I hear his praises, for all spake of this

gallant knight

As one who, without denial, had won him, in many a land,

The crown of true knightly honour, by the strength of his own

right hand.

'Now fain would I speak with the hero, see thou to the time

and way; 335

E'en now might he ride to the castle, for peace shall be kept

to-day.

Were it better that I should seek him? He is other than we in

face,

Pray Heaven it not displease him, but our need with the

knight find grace!

I would that I first might know this, ere the rede from my

folk I hear

That I show to this stranger honour--If it pleaseth him to

draw near, 340

Say, how shall I best receive him? Shall the knight be so

nobly born

That my kiss be not lost, if I kiss him?' 'Nay, hold me of

life forsworn

If he be not of kings the kinsman! Lady, this word I'll bear

To thy princes, that they shall clothe them in raiment both

fit and fair,

And stand before thee, in due order, ere yet to thy court we

ride, 345

And the same shalt thou say to thy ladies--In the city he

doth abide;

I will ride below, and will bring him to thy palace, a worthy

guest,

For no fair or knightly virtue shall be lacking that noble

breast.'

But little space they delayed them, for the Marshal, with

ready skill,

Strove that all in such wise be ordered as should pleasure

his lady's will. 350

But soon did they bear to the hero rich garments, he did them

on,

And this hath the venture told me that their cost should be

hardly won;

And thereon lay the anchors, heavy, and wrought of Arabian

gold,

For so had he willed. Then the hero, who fair payment for

love had told

A charger bestrode that 'fore Babylon a knight rode, for

jousting fain, 355

From the saddle did Gamuret smite him, and I wot it hath

wrought him pain.

If his host thought to ride beside him? He and his gallant

knights?

Yea, in sooth they would do so, gladly--So wended they up the

height,

And dismounted before the palace; and many a knight stood

there,

And each, as was fit, had clothed him in raiment both rich

and fair. 360

And his pages they ran before him, and each twain they went

hand in hand,

And in marvellous fair arraying he saw many ladies stand.

And the queen, her eyes brought her sorrow as she looked on

the Angevin,

So lovely was he to look on that he needs must an entrance

win

Thro' the gates of her heart, if 'twere anguish or joy that

within he bore, 365

Tho' her womanhood 'gainst all comers had held them fast

closed before.

Then a space did she step towards him, and a kiss from her

guest she prayed;

And, herself, by the hand she took him and they sat them,

both man and maid

In a window wide, that looked forth from the palace upon the

foe,

And a covering of wadded samite was spread o'er the couch

below. 370

Is there aught that than day is lighter? Then it likeneth not

the queen!

Yet else was she fair to look on, as a woman should be, I

ween,

But unlike to the dew-dipped roses was her colour, yea, black

as night.

And her crown was a costly ruby, and thro' it ye saw aright

Her raven head. Then as hostess she spake to her guest this

word, 375

That greatly she joyed at his coming, 'Sir, Knight, I such

tale have heard

Of thy knightly strength and prowess--Of thy courtesy, hear

me fair,

For fain would I tell of my sorrow, and the woe that my heart

doth bear!'

'My help shall not fail thee, Lady! What hath grieved, or

doth grieve thee now,

I think me aside to turn it, to thy service my hand I vow! 380

I am naught but one man only--Who hath wronged or now

wrongeth thee

My shield will I hold against him--Little wroth shall thy

foeman be!'

Then a prince he spake out courteous, 'The foe would we

little spare,

Did our host not lack a captain, since Friedebrand hence must

fare.

He defendeth afar his kingdom--A king, one Hernant by name 385

(Whom he slew for the sake of Herlindè) his kinsmen against

him came,

And evil enow have they wrought him, nor yet from their

strife forbear--

Yet he left here full many a hero, and among them, Duke

Heuteger

With his gallant deeds of knighthood, and his army, hath

pressed us sore,

They have skill and strength for the conflict. And many a

soldier more 390

With Gaschier of Normandy came here, and a hero wise is he.

Many knights hath he brought to this country (and wrathful

guests they be):

Kailet of Hoscurast. All these hath he brought upon our fair

land

With his comrades four, and his soldiers, the Scottish king

Friedebrand!

And there, to the West, by the sea-coast doth Eisenhart's

army lie, 395

And their eyes shall be fain for weeping; nor in secret, nor

openly

Hath one seen them, and failed to marvel at their grief and

their sorrow sore,

Since their lord hath been slain in battle with the heart's

rain their eyes run o'er.'

Then the guest courteous spake to his hostess, 'I would, an

it seem thee right,

Thou shouldst say why thy foeman threaten, why they seek thee

with war-like might! 400

Thou hast here many gallant heroes, it grieveth me sore to

see

Thy land thus with hate o'erladen, for woe must it bring to

thee.'

'Wouldst thou know? Then, Sir Knight, I will tell thee--A

knight did me service true,

And the fruit of all manly virtue his life as its decking

knew,

And gallant and wise was the hero, and his faith as a goodly

tree 405

Was fast-rooted, and none so courteous but were shamed by his

courtesy.

And modest was he as a woman, tho' dauntless and strong, I

trow,

And a knight e'en as he free-handed ere his day never land

might know.

(But they that shall come hereafter, other folk shall their

doings see.)

A fool was he in false dealing, and a Moor, as myself shall

be; 410

And his father's name was Tánkaneis, a king of a kingly

heart,

And his son, he who was my lover, men knew him as Eisenhart.

That for love's sake I took his service, as a woman I did not

well,

It hath brought me but lasting sorrow since no joy to his

portion fell,

They deem I to death betrayed him! Yet such treason were far

from me, 415

Tho' his folk bring such charge against me; and dear to my

heart was he,

Far dearer than _they_ e'er held him. Nor witnesses here

shall fail

To speak to the truth of my saying, if it please them to tell

the tale.

His gods and mine, they know it, the truth--I must sorrow

deep

Since my womanly shame hath brought him a guerdon I needs

must weep! 420

'Thus he won in my maiden service much honour by knighthood

fair,

I thought thus to prove my lover; his deeds did his worth

declare.

For my sake he put off his harness (that which like to a hall

doth stand

Is a lofty tent, the Scotch folk they brought it into this

land),

Then e'en tho' he bare no armour his body he little spared, 425

For he held his life as worthless, many ventures unarmed he

dared.

As the matter so stood between us, a prince who my man should

be,

Prothizilas did men call him, a bold knight, from all

cowardice free,

Rode forth in search of venture, and evil for him that day

For there, in Assagog's forest, his death in waiting lay. 430

In a knightly joust he met it, and there too he found his end

The gallant knight who faced him--'Twas Prince Eisenhart my

friend.

For both of the twain were piercèd with a spear thro' heart

and shield,

And I, alas! poor woman, must weep for that fatal field.

And ever their death doth grieve me, and sorrow from love

shall grow, 435

And never henceforth as my husband a man do I think to know.'

Then e'en tho' she was a heathen Gamuret he bethought him

well,

That a heart more true and tender ne'er in woman's breast

might dwell.

Her purity was her baptism, and as water that washed her o'er

Was the rain that streamed from her eyelids o'er her breast,

and the robe she wore; 440

All her joy did she find in sorrow, and grief o'er her life

did reign--

Then the queen she looked on the hero, and in this wise she

spake again:

'With his army the king of Scotland hath sought me across the

sea,

For the knight was son to his uncle; yet no ill can he do to

me,

If here the truth be spoken, that is worse than the grief I

knew 445

For Eisenhart's death!' and sorely she sighed that lady true;

And many a glance thro' her tear-drops on Gamuret shyly fell,

And her eyes to her heart gave counsel, and his beauty it

pleased her well,

(And she knew how to judge a fair face, since fair heathen

she oft had seen,)

And the root of true love and longing it sprang up the twain

between. 450

She looked upon him, and his glances, they answering sought

her own--

Then she bade them to fill the wine-cup, had she dared, it

were left undone,

And she grieved she might not delay it, since to many a hero

brave

Who spake with the maids this wine-cup the signal of parting

gave.

Yet her body was e'en as his body, and his look did such

courage give 455

To the maid, that she thought henceforward in the life of the

knight to live.

Then he stood upright, and he spake thus, 'Lady, I weary

thee,

Too long methinks do I sit here, I were lacking in courtesy!

As befitting true knight and servant I mourn for thy woe so

great,

Lady, do thou command me, I will on thy bidding wait. 460

Wherever thou wilt, there I wend me. I will serve thee in all

I may!'

And the lady she quoth in answer, 'I believe thee, Sir

Knight, alway!'

Then his kindly host the Burg-grave, of his labour would

nothing spare

Lest the hours of his stay be heavy; and he asked if he forth

would fare,

And ride round the walls of the city? 'The battle-field shalt

thou see, 465

And how we would guard our portals!' then Gamuret courteously

Made answer, he fain would see it, the field where they late

had fought,

And the place where brave deeds of knighthood had by gallant

hands been wrought.

And noble knights rode with him adown from the palace hall,

Some were wise, some were young and foolish,--So rode they

around the wall 470

To sixteen gates, and they told him not one of them might

they close

Since Eisenhart's death called for vengeance--'So wrathful

shall be our foes

Our conflict it resteth never, but we fight both by night and

day,

Nor our portals since then we fasten, but open they stand

alway.

At eight of our gates they beset us, true Eisenhart's gallant

knights, 475

And evil shall they have wrought us; spurred by anger each

man doth fight,

The princes of lofty lineage, the king of Assagog's ban!'

And there floated before each portal a banner, so pale and

wan,

With a piercèd knight upon it. When Eisenhart lost his life

His folk chose to them this symbol, as badge in the coming

strife. 480

'But against these arms have we others, wherewith we their

grief would still,

And thus shalt thou know our banner; 'twas wrought at our

lady's will,

Two fingers in oath she stretcheth, that never such grief she

knew

As Eisenhart's death hath brought her (true sorrow for heart

so true),

And so doth it stand the semblance of our queen, on a samite

white 485

Belakané in sable fashioned,--Since against us they came in

might,

(To avenge him for whom she sorrows) so she looks from our

portals high.

And proud Friedebrand's mighty army doth to eight of our

gates stand nigh,

Baptized men, from o'er the waters. A prince doth each portal

hold,

And forth from the gate he sallies, with his banners and

warriors bold.' 490

'From the host of Gaschier the Norman, a count have we

captive ta'en,

And heavy methinks the ransom we may hope from that knight to

gain;

He is sister's son to Kailet, and the harm _he_ to us hath

done

His nephew I ween shall pay for! Yet such prize have we

seldom won.

Here have we no grassy meadow, but sand, thirty gallops wide 495

Betwixt the tents and the trenches; here many a joust we

ride.

And further his host would tell him, 'One knight, he doth

never fail

To ride forth, a fair joust seeking. (If his service shall

nought avail

With her who hath sent him hither, what boots it how well he

fight?)

Proud Heuteger is the hero, of him may I speak with right 500

For since our besiegers threaten there dawneth never a day

But before the gates 'neath the castle, that knight doth his

charger stay.

And oft from that dauntless hero many tokens we needs must

bear,

That he smote through our shields at his spear-point, and

costly their worth and rare

When the squire from the shield doth break them. Many knights

'fore his joust must fall; 505

He would that all men may behold him, and our women they

praise him all.

And he who is praised of women, one knoweth that he doth hold

The prize in his hand, and his heart's joy in full measure

shall aye be told!'

But now would the sun, grown weary, its wandering rays

recall;

'Twas time that the ride was ended--Then he sought with his

host the hall, 510

And the evening meal was ready; and I needs of that feast

must tell,

'Twas laid in a fitting order, and knightly 'twas served, and

well.

And the queen with mien so stately she unto his table came,

(Here stood the fish, there the heron) and she counted it not

for shame

To ride adown from her palace, that herself she might be

aware 515

If they cared for the guest as 'twas fitting, and with her

rode her maidens fair.

Low she knelt (and but ill it pleased him) and cut as it

seemed her best

For the knight a fitting portion; she was glad in her goodly

guest.

And she filled for him the wine-cup, and care for his needs

would take,

And well did he mark, the hero, her mien, and the words she

spake. 520

And his fiddlers sat at the table, and over against the

knight

Was his chaplain: with shy looks shamefast, he spake to the

lady bright:

'I looked not to find such welcome as, Lady, thou gavest me,

Too much must I deem the honour! If rede I might give to

thee,

Then to-day I had claimed naught from thee save was due to my

worth alone, 525

Nor adown the hill hadst thou ridden, nor such service to me

hadst shown.

And, Lady, if I may venture to make unto thee request,

Let me live but as best befits me, thou dost honour o'ermuch

thy guest!'

Yet her kindly care she stayed not; for she stept to his

page's seat

And with gentle words and friendly she prayed them to freely

eat, 530

This she did her guest to honour: and the noble lads, I trow,

Bare goodwill to the royal lady. Nor the queen methinks was

slow

To pass where the host was seated and his lady, the

Burg-gravine,

And she raised the golden goblet, and she spake as should fit

a queen:

'Now unto your care I give him, our guest, and I rede ye both 535

Since the honour is yours, to hearken, and do my will nothing

loth!'

And she bade them farewell, and she turned her, and passed to

her guest once more,

Whose heart for her sake was heavy; and such sorrow for him

she bore,

And her heart and her eyes they answered, and they spake to

her sorrow yea!

And courteous she spake, the lady, 'Sir Knight, thou the word

shalt say, 540

And whate'er be thy will, I will do it, for I hold thee a

worthy guest.

Now give me, I pray, dismissal; if here thou in peace shalt

rest,

Of that shall we all be joyful.' Her torch-holders were of

gold,

And four tapers they bare before her, so she rode to her

fortress-hold.

Nor long at the board they lingered--The hero was sad, and

gay, 545

He was glad for the honour done him, yet a sorrow upon him

lay,

And that was strong Love's compelling, that a proud heart and

courage high

Can bend to her will, and gladness shall oft at her bidding

fly.

Then the hostess she passed to her chamber, yea, e'en as the

meal was o'er;

And a couch did they spread for the hero, and love to the

labour bore. 550

And the host to his guest spake kindly, 'Now here shall thy

sleep be sweet,

Thou shalt rest thro' the night that cometh, to thy need

shall such rest be meet.'

Then he spake to his men, and he bade them they should hence

from the hall away,

And the noble youths his pages, their couches around his lay

Each one with the head toward his master, for so was the

custom good; 555

And tapers so tall and flaming alight round the chamber

stood.

Yet ill did it please the hero that so long were the hours of

night,

For the Moorish queen so dusky, had vanquished his heart of

might.

And he turned as a willow wand bendeth, till his joints they

were heard to crack,

The strife and the love that he craved for he deemed he

o'er-long did lack. 560

And his heart-beats they echoed loudly, as it swelled high

for knighthood fain,

And he stretched himself as an archer who bendeth a bow

amain.

And so eager his lust for battle that sleepless the hero lay

Till he saw the grey light of morning, though as yet it

should scarce be day.

And his chaplain for Mass was ready, and to God and the

knight they sing, 565

For so did he give commandment. Then he bade them his harness

bring,

And he rode where a joust should wait him, and that self-same

hour would ride

A horse that could charge the foeman, and turn swiftly to

either side,

And answer to bit and bridle if its rider would backward

draw.

And the watchers, both man and woman, his helm in the gateway

saw, 570

And the anchor shone fair upon it; and no man ere this might

see

So wondrous fair a hero, for like to a god was he!

And strong spears they bare for his using--How then was he

decked, the knight?

With iron was his charger covered, as should serve for a

shield in fight,

And above lay another covering, nor heavy methinks it

weighed, 575

'Twas a samite green; and his surcoat and blazoned coat were

made

Of Achmardi, green to look on, and in Araby fashioned fair,

And no lie I tell, but the shield-thongs that the weight of

the shield should bear

Were of silk and gold untarnished, and jewel-bedecked their

pride,

And the boss of the shield was covered with red gold, in the

furnace tried. 580

He served but for love's rewarding; sharp conflict he held it

light;

And the queen she looked from her window, with many a lady

bright.

And see, there Heuteger held him, who the prize ne'er had

failed to gain;

When he saw the knight draw nearer, in swift gallop across

the plain,

He thought, 'Now whence came this Frenchman? Who hither this

knight hath sent? 585

If a _Moor_ I had thought this hero, my wit were to madness

bent!'

No whit they delayed the onslaught, from gallop to swifter

flight

Each man spurred amain his charger; and as fitting a valiant

knight

Nor one would evade the other, but would meet him in jousting

fair,

From brave Heuteger's spear the splinters flew high thro' the

summer air, 590

But his foeman so well withstood him that he thrust him from

off his steed

Adown on the grass; but seldom might he win for his joust

such meed!

And his foe in his course rode o'er him, and trode him unto

the ground,

Yet he sprang up again, and valiant, fresh lust for the

strife he found,

But Gamuret's lance had pierced him thro' the arm, and he

bade him yield, 595

And he knew he had found his master, and he spake from the

foughten field,

'Now who shall have o'erthrown me?' and the victor he swiftly

spake,

'Gamuret Angevin do men call me!' then he quoth, 'Thou my

pledge canst take!'

Then his pledge the knight took, and straightway he sent him

within the wall,

And much praise did he win from the women who looked from the

castle hall. 600

And swiftly there came towards him, Gaschier of Normandy,

A proud and wealthy hero and mighty in strife was he.

And Gamuret made him ready, for a second joust he'ld ride,

And strong and new was his spear-shaft, and the iron was both

sharp and wide,

And the strangers they faced each other--But unequal their

lot, I trow, 605

For Gaschier and his gallant charger full swiftly were they

laid low,

And the knight with his arms and harness he fell in the shock

of strife;

If he thought it for good or for evil, by his pledge must he

win his life.

Then Gamuret quoth, the hero, 'Thou hast pledged unto me

thine hand,

Yet the weapon it well hath wielded! Ride thou to the

Scottish band, 610

And bid them to cease from troubling; if they to thy will are

fain,

Thou canst follow me to the city.' Then the knight hied him

o'er the plain.

If he prayed them, or gave commandment, they did at the last

his will,

And the Scottish host they rested, and from conflict they

held them still.

Then Kailet spurred swift towards him, but Gamuret turned his

rein, 615

His cousin he was, and near kinsman, why then bring him grief

and pain?

And the Spaniard cried loudly on him; on his helm he an

ostrich bare,

And so far as I know to tell ye the knight he was decked so

fair

With silken raiment goodly, and long were his robes and wide,

And the plain rang clear with the chiming of sweet bells as

he o'er it hied. 620

The flower he of manly beauty, and his fairness it held the

field,

Save for two who should come hereafter, and his fame unto

theirs must yield;

But Parzival and brave Beaucorps, King Lot's son, they are

not here,

Not yet were they born, but hereafter for their beauty men

held them dear!

Then Gaschier he grasped his bridle. 'Now checked will it be

thy race, 625

So I tell thee upon mine honour, if the Angevin thou shalt

face

Who there my pledge hath taken. Sir Knight, thou shalt list

my prayer

And hearken unto my counsel; in Gamuret's hand I sware

From strife aside to turn thee: stay thy steed then for my

sake,

For mighty is he in conflict!' Then aloud King Kailet spake, 630

'Is he Gamuret my cousin, and son unto King Gandein?

Then I care not with him to battle, no foe shall he be of

mine!

Take thine hand from off my bridle'--'Nay, further thou shalt

not fare

Till mine eyes have first beheld thee, with thine head of the

helmet bare,

For _mine_ with blows is deafened!' Then his helmet the

prince unbound. 635

And yet, tho' with him he fought not, Gamuret other foemen

found.

And the day had grown to high morning--And the folk who the

joust might see

Were glad at heart, and they gat them to their bulwarks right

speedily,

For he was as a net before them, and none might escape his

hold.

And he chose him another charger, so the tale unto me was

told, 640

And it flew, and the earth it spurnèd, and its work could

aright fulfil,

Bold when the knight would battle, yet its speed could he

check at will.

And what would he do the rider? His valour I praise alway,

For he rode where the Moorish army to the west by the

sea-coast lay.

Thence a prince, Rassalig men called him, forgat not each

coming morn 645

(He was Assagog's richest hero, to riches and honour born

Since he came of a royal lineage) to take from the camp his

way

He would fain joust before the city--But his strength it was

quelled that day

By Anjou's dauntless hero; and a dusky maid made moan

(Since 'twas she who sent him hither) that her knight should

be thus o'erthrown. 650

For a squire brought, without his bidding, to his master,

brave Gamuret,

A spear, with light reed-shaft fashioned, and its point

'gainst the Moor he set,

And with it he smote the paynim from his steed down upon the

sand,

Nor longer he bade him lie there than as surety he pledged

his hand.

So the strife it had found its ending, and the hero had won

him fame; 655

Then Gamuret saw eight banners toward the city that onward

came,

And he bade the conquered hero the force with his word to

stay,

And follow him to the city. And that word must he needs obey.

Nor Gaschier delayed his coming; and unto the Burg-grave told

How his guest sought for further conflict nor his wrath might

the host withhold. 660

If he swallowed not iron as an ostrich, nor his wrath did on

stones assuage

'Twas but that he might not find them! Then he gnashed his

teeth for rage,

And he growled as a mighty lion, and the hair of his head he

tare,

And he quoth, 'So the years of my lifetime a harvest of folly

bear,

The gods they had sent to my keeping a valiant and worthy

friend, 665

If with strife he shall be o'erladen, then mine honour hath

found an end;

Sword and shield they shall little profit--Yea, shame he

would on me cast

Who should bring this to my remembrance!' Then swift from his

place he passed,

And he gat him into the portal, and a squire towards him

drew,

And he bare a shield that was painted with a knight by a

spear pierced thro', 670

In Eisenhart's land was it fashioned; and a helmet his hand

must hold,

And a sword that Rassalig carried in battle, that heathen

bold,

But now was he parted from it whose fame was in every place;

Were he slain unbaptized I think me, God had shown to this

hero grace!

And e'en as the Burg-grave saw it, ne'er of yore was his joy

so great, 675

For the coat-of-arms he knew it--So he rode thro' the city

gate,

And without, his guest had halted, young hero he, not yet

old,

As one of a joust desirous, and his bridle the Burg-grave

bold,

Lahfilirost was his name, he grasped it, and he led him

within the wall;

And I wot well no other foeman that day 'neath his spear must

fall. 680

Quoth Lahfilirost the Burg-grave, 'Sir Knight, thou shalt

tell to me

If thine hand Rassalig hath vanquished?' 'Then our land from

all strife is free;

For he of the Moors is chieftain, the men of true Eisenhart

Who have brought unto us such sorrow--But now shall our woe

depart,

'Twas a wrathful god who bade him thus seek us with all his

host, 685

But his weapons to naught are smitten, and to folly is turned

his boast!'

Then he led him in (ill it pleased him) and there met then

the royal maid,

And she loosened the bands of his vizor, and her hand on his

bridle laid,

To her care must the Burg-grave yield it: nor his squires to

their task were slack,

For they turned them about, and swiftly they rode on their

master's track. 690

So men saw the queen so gracious lead her guest thro' the

city street

Who here should be hailed the victor--Then she lighted her on

her feet,

'Ah me! but thy squires are faithful! Fear ye lest your lord

be lost?

Without ye shall he be cared for; take his steed, here am I

his host!'

And above found he many a maiden: then her hands of dusky hue 695

The queen set unto his harness, and disarmed the knight so

true.

And the bed-covering was of sable, and the couch it was

spread so fair,

And in secret a hidden honour they did for the knight

prepare,

For no one was there to witness--The maidens they might not

stay,

And the door was fast closed behind them, and Frau Minne

might have her way. 700

So the queen in the arms of her true love found guerdon of

sweet delight,

Tho' unlike were the twain in their colour, Moorish princess

and Christian knight!

Then the townsfolk brought many an offering to the gods who

had seen their woe.

That which Rassalig needs must promise ere he from the field

might go

That he did, in all truth and honour, yet heavy was he at

heart, 705

And afresh sprang the fount of his sorrow for his prince

gallant Eisenhart.

And the Burg-grave he heard of his coming; then loud rang the

trumpet call,

And no man of Zassamank's princes but came to the palace

hall.

They gave Gamuret thanks for the honour he had won in the

field that day,

Four-and-twenty had fallen before him, and their chargers he

bore away, 710

And three chieftains had he made captive. And there rode in

the princes' train

Many gallant knights, in the courtyard of the palace did they

draw rein.

And the hero had slept and eaten, and clad him in raiment

fair,

Chief host was he, for his body fit garments would they

prepare.

And she who afore was a maiden but now was a wife would take 715

Her lord by the hand, forth she led him, and unto her princes

spake:

'My body and this my kingdom are vassals unto this knight,

If so be that his foemen fearing, resist not his hand of

might!'

Then Gamuret spake, and his bidding was courteous, for hero

meet,

Sir Rassalig, go thou nearer, with a kiss thou my wife shalt

greet; 720

And Sir Gaschier, thou shalt do likewise.' Then the Scotch

knight proud Heuteger

He bade on the lips to kiss her (and the wounds won in joust

he bare).

Then he bade them all be seated, and standing, he wisely

spake:

'I were fain to behold my kinsman, if he who did captive take

The knight shall have naught against it--As kinsman it

seemeth me 725

That I find here no other counsel save straightway to set him

free!'

Then the queen she smiled, and bade them go swiftly and seek

the knight,

And then thro' the throng he pressed him, that count so fair

and bright,

Yet bare he the wounds of knighthood, and bravely and well

had fought;

With the host of Gaschier the Norman the land of the Moors he

sought. 730

He was courteous; his sire a Frenchman he was Kailet's

sister's son,

Killirjacac his name; in the service of fair women fair meed

he won,

And the fairest of men they deemed him. When Gamuret saw his

face

(For like were they each to the other, as men of a kindred

race)

He bade his queen to kiss him and embrace him as kinsman

true, 735

And he spake, 'Now come thou and greet me!' and the knight to

his arms he drew,

And he kissed him, and each was joyful that the other he here

might meet:

And Gamuret quoth unto him, 'Alas! cousin fair and sweet,

What doth thy young strength in this conflict? Say, if woman

hath sent thee here?'

'Nay, never a woman sent me, with my cousin I came, Gaschier, 740

He knoweth why he hath brought me--A thousand men have I,

And I do to him loyal service--To Rouen in Normandy

I came, where his force was gathered, and many a youthful

knight

I brought from Champagne in mine army; 'neath his banner we

fain would fight.

Now evil hath turned against him what of cunning is hers and

skill, 745

Thou wilt honour thyself if thou free him for my sake, and

cure his ill!'

'Thyself shalt fulfil thy counsel! Go thou, take with thee

Gaschier,

I would fain see my kinsman Kailet, do thou bring him unto me

here!'

So they wrought out the host's desiring, and brought him at

his behest,

And in loving wise and kindly did Gamuret greet his guest; 750

And ofttimes the queen embraced him, and kissed him with

kisses sweet:

And nothing it wronged her honour in such wise the prince to

greet,

He was cousin unto her husband, by birth was himself a king.

Then smiling his host spake to him, 'God knows, 'twere an

evil thing,

Had I taken from thee Toledo, and thy goodly land of Spain 755

For Gascony's king, who wrathful doth plague thee with strife

amain;

'Twere faithless of me, Sir Kailet, since mine aunt's son

thou sure shalt be;

The bravest of knights shall be with thee; say, who forced

this strife on thee?'

Then out spake the proud young hero, 'My cousin Schiltung

bade

(Since his daughter Friedebrand wedded) that I lend to the

king mine aid. 760

For the sake of his wife hath he won him, yea even from me

alone

Six thousand chosen heroes, who valour and skill have shown.

And other men did I bring him, but a part they shall hence

have sailed,

For the Scottish folk came they hither, brave bands who in

strife ne'er failed.

And there came to his aid from Greenland, strong heroes who

bravely fought, 765

Two mighty kings, and a torrent of knighthood with them they

brought,

And many a goodly vessel: and they pleased me, those men of

might--

And here for his sake came Morhold, who hath cunning and

skill in fight.'

'But now have they turned them homewards, and that which the

queen shall say

Even that will I do with mine army, her servant am I alway! 770

Thou shalt thank me not for this service, from kinsman 'twas

due, I ween.

Now _thine_ are these gallant heroes, if like mine they

baptized had been

And were even as they in colour, then never a monarch crowned

But if they should fight against him, of conflict his fill

had found!

But I marvel what here hath brought thee? Say, how didst thou

reach this strand?' 775

'Yestreen I came, and this morning I am lord o'er this goodly

land!

The queen by the hand she took me, and with love I myself

would shield,

For so did my wit give counsel--' 'Yea, so hast thou won the

field,

Those sweet weapons two hosts have vanquished!' 'Thou wouldst

say, since I fled from _thee_,

So loudly on me thou calledst, say, what wouldst thou force

from me? 780

Let us speak of the thing in friendship!' 'Thine anchor I

failed to know,

But seldom mine aunt's brave husband Gandein, did such token

show!'

'But I, I knew well thine ostrich with the snake's head upon

thy breast,

Aloft stood thy bird so stately, nor hid it within a nest!'

'And I saw in thy mien and bearing that that pledge would

have 'seemed thee ill 785

Which two heroes afore had given, tho' first had they fought

their fill.'

'E'en such fate as theirs were my portion--But this thing I

needs must say,

Tho' little I like a devil, were he victor as thou this day

For love of his gallant doings the women had deemed him

sweet,

Yea, as sugar were fain to eat him!' 'Now thou praisest me

more than meet!' 790

'Nay, of flattery know I little, thou shalt see that I hold

thee dear

In other wise!' Then the hero bade Rassalig draw anear.

And courteous he spake, King Kailet, 'My kinsman with valiant

hand

Hath made of thee here his captive?' 'Yea, Sire, so the thing

doth stand,

And I hold him for such a hero that Assagog's kingdom fair 795

Should fail not to yield him homage, since the crown he may

never wear,

Our prince Eisenhart! In her service was he slain who shall

now be wife

To thy kinsman, as knight so faithful he gave for her love

his life.

With my kiss have I sealed forgiveness, yet my lord and my

friend I lost!

If thy cousin by knightly dealing will repay of his death the

cost 800

I will fold my hands as his vassal: and wealth shall be his

and fame,

All that Eisenhart from Tánkaneis as his heritage thought to

claim.

Embalmed here the hero lieth, and I gaze on his wounds each

day

Since this spear thro' his true heart piercing, my lord and

my king did slay!'

Then he drew it forth from his bosom by a silken cord so

fine, 805

And the heroes saw the spear-blade 'neath his robe on his

bare chest shine.

And he quoth, 'It is now high morning, if my lord Sir

Killirjacac

My token will bear to my princes, with him will the knights

ride back.'

And a finger-ring he sent them: dark as hell were those

heroes all

And they rode who were there of princes, thro' the town to

the castle hall. 810

As his vassals he gave with their banners to Assagog's lords

their land,

And each one rejoiced in the fiefdom he won from his ruler's

hand,

But the better part was his portion, Gamuret's, as their lord

and king.

And these were the first--as they passed hence their homage

they fain would bring

The princes of Zassamank's kingdom, and they came in their

order due, 815

And each as their queen had bade them, they took from his

hand anew

Their land, and the fruit it should bear them, as to each man

was fit and right,

And poverty fled from his presence. Now he who was slain in

fight

And in life was a prince by lineage, Prothizilas, he had left

A Dukedom fair, and this country which was thus of its lord

bereft 820

He gave unto him who much honour had won by his strong right

hand,

The Burg-grave, in combat dauntless--With its banners he took

the land.

Then Assagog's noble princes took the Scotch Duke, proud

Heuteger,

And Gaschier, the Norman hero, to their lord did they lead

them there,

And he spake them free for their asking, and they thanked

brave Gamuret. 825

Then Heuteger of Scotland with prayers did these knights

beset,

'Now give to our lord the armour, as prize for his deeds so

brave,

That Eisenhart's life took from us, when to Friedebrand he

gave

That which was of our land the glory--Forfeit of joy the

knight,

And dead on his bier he lieth, since no love might his love

requite--' 830

And earth knoweth naught so goodly, the helm it was strong

and hard,

Yea even of diamond fashioned, in battle a goodly guard.

Then Heuteger sware unto them, if the land of his lord he saw

He would pray of his hand the armour, and send it to them

once more.

And this did he swear them freely--Then leave would the

princes pray 835

Who stood in the royal presence, and they wend from the hall

their way.

And tho' sorely the land was wasted, yet Gamuret scattered

free

Such royal gifts and goodly as if laden with gold each tree.

And costly I ween the presents that vassal and friend must

share

From the open hand of the hero; and the queen deemed it right

and fair. 840

Full many a bitter conflict had been fought ere the bridal

feast,

But peace had the foeman sealèd, and the land was from strife

released;

(Nor this song I myself have woven, but so was it told to me)

And Eisenhart did they bury with honours right royally.

To his grave did his kinsmen bear him, and the gold that his

lands might bring 845

In a whole year long, did they spend there, of their free

will they did this thing.

And Gamuret bade his kinsfolk his riches and lands to hold

And use as they would; tho' they craved not such boon from

the hero bold.

At dawn from before the fortress the foe would their camp

withdraw,

And those who were there departed; many litters with them

they bore. 850

And the field was left unsheltered, save for one tent so

great and fair,

And the king he bade his servants that tent to his vessel

bear.

And he said to his folk that to Assagog would he take it, and

yet I wot

He did with that speech deceive them, for Assagog saw him

not.

Now that proud and gallant hero, his heart gave him little

rest 855

Since he found there no deeds of knighthood, and gladness

forsook his breast;

Yet his dusky wife was dearer than e'en his own life might

be,

Ne'er knew he a truer lady whose heart was from falsehood

free,

She forgat not what 'seemed a woman, and with her as comrades

good

Went purity untarnished, and the ways of true womanhood. 860

He was born in Seville's fair city whom the knight would

hereafter pray,

When he grew of his sojourn weary, to sail with him far away;

For many a mile had he led him, and he brought him unto this

place,

And a Christian was he, the steersman, nor like to a Moor in

face.

And wisely he spake, 'Thou shalt hide it from them who a dark

skin bear, 865

Too swift is my barque for pursuing, from hence shall we

quickly fare!'

Then his gold it was borne to the vessel. Now of parting I

needs must tell,

By night did he go, the hero, and his purpose he hid it well;

But when from his wife he sailèd, in her womb did she bear

his child:

And fair blew the wind, and the breezes bare him hence o'er

the waters wild. 870

And the lady she found a letter, and 'twas writ by her

husband's hand;

And in French (for she well could read it) did the words of

the writing stand:

'Here one love to another speaketh--As a thief have I stolen

away

That mine eyes might not see thy sorrow--But this thing I

needs must say,

Wert thou, e'en as I, a Christian I ever should weep for

thee, 875

For e'en now I must sorely mourn thee. If it chance that our

child shall be

In face like unto one other, then his is a dowry fair,

Of Anjou was _he_ born, and Frau Minne for his lady he did

declare.

Yet was he in strife a hailstorm, ill neighbour unto his foe;

That his grandsire hath been King Gandein, this I will that

my son shall know. 880

Dead he lay thro' his deeds of knighthood; and his father the

same death won,

Addanz was his name, and unsplintered his shield hath been

seen of none;

And by birth he hath been a Breton, and two brothers' sons

were they,

He and the brave Pendragon, and their sires' names I here

will say;

For Lassalies he hath been the elder, and Brickus was his

brother's name, 885

And Mazadan was their father whom a fay for her love did

claim.

Terre-de-la-schoie did they call her, to Fay-Morgan she led

the king,

For he was her true heart's fetters; and my race from those

twain did spring.

And fair shall they be, and valiant, and as crownèd kings

they reign--

If lady, thou'lt be baptizèd thou mayst win me to thee

again!' 890

Yet had she no thought of anger, but she spake, 'Ah! too soon

'tis o'er,

Of a sooth would I do his bidding, would it bring him to me

once more.

In whose charge hath my courteous hero left the fruit of his

love so true?

Alas! for the sweet communion that we twain for a short space

knew!

Shall the strength of my bitter sorrow rule body and soul

alway? 895

And she quoth, 'Now his God to honour, his will would I fain

obey,

And gladly I'ld be baptizèd, and live as should please my

love!'

And sorrow with her heart struggled, and e'en as the turtle

dove

Her joy sought the withered branches, for the same mind was

hers, I ween,

When the mate of the turtle dieth, she forsaketh the branches

green. 900

Then the queen at the time appointed bare a son, who was dark

and light,

For in him had God wrought a wonder, at one while was he

black and white.

And a thousand times she kissed him where white as his sire's

his skin.

And she named the babe of her sorrows Feirefis Angevin.

And he was a woodland-waster, many spears did he shatter

fair, 905

And shields did he pierce--as a magpie the hue of his face

and hair.

Now a year and more was ended since Gamuret won such fame

At Zassamank, and his right hand the victor's prize might

claim,

And yet o'er the seas he drifted, for the winds vexed the

hero bold.

Then a silken sail red gleaming he saw, and the barque did

hold 910

The men whom the King of Scotland, Friedebrand, sent upon

their way

At the bidding of Queen Belakané: from her would they pardon

pray

That ever he came against her, tho' in sooth he had lost the

more.

And with them the diamond helmet, the corslet and sword they

bore,

And hosen e'en such as the harness, and a marvel it needs

must be 915

That the barque was thus borne towards him, as the venture

hath told to me!

And they gave him the goodly armour, and an oath unto them he

swore

That his mouth it should speak their message, an he came to

the queen once more.

And they parted; and one hath told me that the sea bare him

onward bound

Till he came to a goodly haven, and in Seville his goal he

found. 920

And with gold did he pay his steersman right well for his

guidance true,

And they parted, those twain, and sorrow the heart of that

steersman knew!

BOOK II

HERZELEIDE

ARGUMENT

This Book tells how Gamuret sought for King Kailet, and found him

before Kanvoleis. How the Queen of the Waleis ordered a Tourney

to be

holden, and of the heroes there assembled. How Gamuret did

valiant

deeds, and was adjudged the victor; and how two queens laid claim

to

his love. Of the wedding of Gamuret and Queen Herzeleide and

their

love to each other. How Gamuret went to the aid of the Baruch,

and was

treacherously slain before Alexandria. How the news was brought

to the

land of the Waleis; of the sorrow of Herzeleide; and of the birth

of

Parzival.

BOOK II

HERZELEIDE

Now there in the Spanish country he thought him the king to

greet,

His kinsman and cousin Kailet, and he followed with footsteps

fleet

To Toledo, but thence had he ridden unto deeds of knighthood

fair,

Where many a spear should be splintered, and men thought not

their shields to spare.

Then he thought him to make him ready (so the venture doth

tell I ween) 5

With many a blazoned spear-shaft, and many a sendal green;

For each spear it bare a pennon, with the anchor in ermine

white,

And well was it wrought, the symbol, and costly in all men's

sight.

And long and broad were the pennons, and e'en to the hand

hung low

When men on the spear-blade bound them, a span-breadth the

point below. 10

And a hundred spears were ready for that true and gallant

knight,

And his cousin's folk they bare them, and with him went forth

to fight;

And honour and loyal service they showed him as fit and fair,

Nor I think had their lord been wrathful that his kinsman

their love should share.

I know not how long he sought him, till shelter at length he

found 15

In the Waleis land: 'fore Kanvoleis were pitched on the open

ground

Many tents so fair and knightly; (I speak not from fancy

light

But sooth are the words I tell ye if the tale ye would hear

aright)

Then he bade his folk to halt there, and he sent on before

his face

The chief of his squires, and he bade him to seek them a

resting-place. 20

He would fain do his master's bidding, and swift to the town

he sped,

And many a pack-horse laden his comrades behind him led.

And never a house he saw there but its roof was a shield I

trow,

And the walls were hung and circled with spears in a goodly

row,

For the queen of the Waleis country had ordered at Kanvoleis 25

That a Tourney fair be holden, and they ordered it in such

wise

That a coward had little liked it--for whoever would seek

such strife

At his will doth it chance but seldom! She was maiden, not

yet a wife,

And herself and two lands she offered to him who the prize

should hold;

And many to earth had fallen in whose ear had this tale been

told, 30

And he who such fall must suffer he held that his chance was

o'er.

And many a dauntless hero showed knighthood those walls

before,

And many a horse rushed onward as the knight spurred to

onslaught fierce,

And the sword-blades rang clear on each other, and spears did

the shield rims pierce.

A bridge from the plain was builded that crossed o'er the

river's flow, 35

And 'twas closed by a tower-portal; nor the squire at his

task was slow,

But he opened the gates, unwearied, when one would an

entrance win.

And above it there stood the palace, and the queen sat the

hall within,

And she gazed from the high hall window with many a maiden

fair,

And they looked on the squires beneath them to see what had

brought them there. 40

'Twixt themselves had they taken counsel, and a tent did they

rear on high

For the winning of love ungranted a king wrought it in days

gone by,

('Twas in service of Queen Belakané). The squires laboured

with might and main

Till the burden of thirty pack-steeds they raised on the

grassy plain,

A pavilion rich to look on, and the meadow it was so wide 45

That the silken ropes that held it might stretch forth on

either side.

And Gamuret, their master, ate without in the open air--

And then for his courtly entrance with skill would the knight

prepare,

Nor longer might be delaying--His squires take the spears

straightway,

And they bind them fast together, and five in each band they

lay, 50

And the sixth in their hand they carry, with its pennon and

anchor white;

So proudly into the city came riding this gallant knight.

Then the queen she heard the tidings that a noble guest was

come

From a far-off land and distant, and in sooth was he known to

none.

'And courteous his folk in bearing; both heathen and French I

trow, 55

And Angevin, some among them if their speech I aright may

know;

And their courage is high, and their raiment both rich and

well shaped shall be.

But now was I with his people, and they seem me from

falsehood free,

And they say, 'Who hath lust for riches, if he to our lord

shall seek

He will free him from fear of scarceness!' The while I with

them did speak, 60

I asked them to tell of their master, and they thought not to

hide the thing,

But spake of a true heart freely, 'Of Zassamank is he king.'

'Twas a page who brought the tidings--'Ah me! that pavilion

fair!

Wouldst thou pledge thy crown and thy kingdom not half of its

cost were there!'

'Thou needst not to praise so highly, my mouth ne'er shall

say thee nay, 65

A rich man shall be its owner, no lack doth he know alway.'

And in this wise she spake, the lady, the fair and gracious

queen,

'Why cometh he not to the castle? For fain I his face had

seen.'

This she bade her page to ask him--Then the hero was fain to

make

Brave entry into the city, and the sleepers must needs awake. 70

Many shields he saw fair shining--The blast of the trumpets

clear

Rang loud and long before him, and two drummers ye needs must

hear

As they tossed and smote their tambours, and the walls echoed

back the sound,

With the notes of the flutes 'twas mingled as the train

through the city wound,

'Twas a march that they played so gaily--Nor forget we how he

must ride 75

Their master and lord, he followed with the fiddlers his rein

beside.

Then he threw his leg o'er his charger, that hero so bold and

fair,

And boots did he wear of leather, or else had his limbs been

bare.

And his mouth it was e'en as a ruby, and red, as a fire doth

burn,

And full, not too thin; fair his body wherever the eye might

turn; 80

And fair was his hair and curling, and wherever one saw the

skin

I ween 'twas as costly cover as ever a head might win.

And of samite green was his mantle, and the sable shone dark

thereon

Tho' white was his vest, and the gazers they came in a goodly

throng.

And many must ask the question, 'Who was he, the beardless

knight 85

Who rode with such pomp of riches?' Then the tale it was

spread aright,

For they spake it as truth who knew it--So they drew to the

bridge anear

The folk of the town, and his people; and so bright was the

radiance clear

That shone from the queen that it thrilled him thro' his

strong limbs, that goodly knight,

And he braced himself as a falcon that plumeth its wings for

flight, 90

And the lodging he deemed it goodly; so thought he that hero

wise;

And his hostess with joy beheld him, the lady of fair Waleis!

Then the king of Spain he heard it, how there stood on the

open plain

The tent that at Rassalig's bidding Gamuret as his prize did

gain

At Patelamunt, and the tidings a knight to his lord would

bring-- 95

Then he sped as a deer, joy's vassal I ween was the gallant

king!

And thus spake the knight, 'Thy kinsman, and the son of thine

aunt I saw,

And with pomp and in state as aforetime, so to-day doth he

hither draw;

There are floating a hundred pennons full fair by his

knightly shield,

And around his high pavilion they stand on the grassy field, 100

And green as the grass the pennons, and the hero bold doth

bear

Three anchors of snow-white ermine on every sendal fair.'

'Hath he come here arrayed for battle? Ah! then shall men see

straightway

How he spurreth him swift to the onslaught, how he striveth

in knightly fray!

Long time hath the proud King Hardeiss his anger against me

shown, 105

Here in joust shall Gamuret fell him, and good fortune shall

be mine own!'

Then straightway he sent a message to Gaschier, the Norman

knight,

Where he lay with many a vassal; and Killirjacac the fair and

bright,

For here had they come at his bidding--The twain at King

Kailet's side

Towards the fair pavilion with a goodly following hied. 110

And Zassamank's king was joyful, for he held them dear at

heart:

And the time over-long had seemed them since they must from

each other part,

This they spake of a true heart truly--And the king he was

fain to know

What knights should be here for the Tourney, who valour and

skill should show.

Then spake unto him his kinsmen, 'From distant lands they

came, 115

The knights whom love's power hath brought here, many heroes

of dauntless fame.'

'Here Uther Pendragon fighteth, and with him his Breton host;

One grief as a thorn doth vex him, his wife hath the hero

lost,

The queen who was Arthur's mother; a clerk who all magic knew

With him hath she fled, and Arthur doth after the twain

pursue; 120

'Tis now the third year since he lost them, his son alike and

wife--

And here is his daughter's husband, a hero well skilled in

strife,

King Lot is his name, of Norway--swift seeketh he

knighthood's prize,

But slow are his feet to falsehood, the knight so bold and

wise.

And here is his young son Gawain; as yet he too weak shall be 125

For any deed of knighthood--but now was the boy with me,

And he spake, were he not too feeble a spear-shaft as yet to

break

He were fain to do deeds of knighthood, in the Tourney his

part would take!

His lust for strife waketh early! Here Patrigalt's king hath

brought

Of spears a goodly forest; yet their valour shall be as

naught 130

When weighed against the gallant doings of the men of

Portugal,

Yea, _bold_ we in truth may call them, and shields do they

pierce right well.

And here are the men of Provence, with many a blazoned

shield;

And here the Waleis, to their onslaught the foemen perforce

must yield,

And they ride at their will thro' the combat, for men of the

land are they. 135

Many fight here for love's rewarding whose title I may not

say,

But all whom I here have named thee now lie, and the truth I

tell,

At great cost here within the city, for so the queen deemed

it well.'

'And without on the plain they hold them who deem their prize

lightly won,

Proud Arragon's haughty monarch, and the brave king of

Askalon. 140

Eidegast, he is there from Logrois, and the King

Brandelidelein

(The monarch is he of Punturtois), there too is bold

Lähelein.

And Morhold is there of Ireland, many pledges that knight

hath ta'en;

And many a haughty German doth camp on that battle plain.

To this country the Duke of Brabant hath come thro' the King

Hardeiss; 145

The king of Gascony gave him his sister the fair Aleiss,

(Yet his service ere that won payment) wrath against me those

princes drew:

Now I trust _thee_ to think of our kinship--For love's sake

do me service true!'

Quoth the king of Zassamank, 'Cousin, no thanks would I have

from thee

Whate'er I may do for thine honour, my will e'en as thine

shall be. 150

Doth thine ostrich yet stand un-nested? Thou shalt carry its

serpent's head

'Gainst thy foeman's demi-gryphon, _my_ anchor shall swift be

sped,

And find in his onslaught landing; himself shall a haven seek

Behind his steed on the gravel! If our wrath we be fain to

wreak,

And ride one against the other, I fell him, or he felleth

me-- 155

On my knightly faith as a kinsman this word do I swear to

thee!'

Then Kailet he sought his lodging, and his heart it was gay

and light.

Then arose on the plain a war-cry, 'fore the face of two

gallant knights,

They were Schyolarz of Poitou, and Gurnemanz of Graharz,

On the plain did they meet together; ere the eventide might

pass 160

The knights in their troops they rode forth, here by six and

there by three,

And they did gallant deeds of knighthood--nor otherwise might

it be.

And now it was fully noontide, and the knight in his tent

abode;

Then the king of Zassamank heard this, that o'er all the

field they rode,

'O'er the length and the breadth they gallop, and in knightly

order fight.' 165

And thither he rode, the hero, with many a banner bright;

But he rode not in search of conflict, at his leisure he

thought to see

What was done by one side and the other of fair deeds of

chivalry.

On the plain did they spread his carpet, where the knights in

strife would close,

And the shriek of the wounded horses o'er all the tumult

rose. 170

The squires stood round in a circle mid the clash of the

ringing steel,

And the heroes for fair fame battled, and the swords sang for

woe or weal.

There was sound as of splintered spear-shafts, but none need

to question, Where?

And his walls were of meeting foemen, by knightly hands

builded fair.

And so near was I ween the jousting that the maids from the

hall above 175

Might look on the toil of the heroes--But sorrow the queen

did move

Since the king of Zassamank did naught, nor mingled him in

the fight,

And she quoth, 'Ah! why came he hither? I had deemed him a

gallant knight!'

(Now the King of France, whose fair wife brought Gamuret

sorrow sore

When he fought for her sake, lay lifeless, and the queen

sought the wide world o'er 180

To know if from heathen countries he had come to his land

again.

'Twas love's power to the search that drove her, for love did

her heart constrain.)

And many brave deeds were done there of many a poor man bold,

Who yet for the highest strove not, which the queen for their

prize had told,

Herself and her two fair kingdoms,--they thought not such

prize to gain, 185

But they battled for other booty, tho' their hearts were for

payment fain.

Now clad was Gamuret's body in the harness whereby his wife

Might bring to her mind forgiveness, and the ending of bitter

strife.

The Scotch King Friedebrand sent it, as a gift, to repay the

woe

That with conflict he heaped upon her, nor shall earth of its

fellow know. 190

Then he looked well upon the diamond--'twas a helmet, thereon

they bound

An anchor, and jewels so precious were within its setting

found;

Nor small were the stones, but costly, and the weight it was

none too light

Of that helmet, and yet he bare it, and decked was the guest

for fight

And what was his shield's adorning? of gold of Araby fair, 195

And the boss it was rich and costly, and heavy the weight he

bare.

And the red gold shone so brightly that mirrored the face

therein,

And an anchor beneath of sable--I were fain to myself to win

That wherewith the knight was girded, full many a mark its

worth.

And wide was the coat emblazoned, and it reached e'en unto

the earth, 200

And I ween that few in battle such raiment shall think to

wear.

And if I have skill to praise it, or its value aright

declare,

It shone e'en as when there burneth thro' the night-time a

living flame,

And never a tint was faded, and its shimmer as lightning

came,

A feeble eye had feared it! And with gold was it all

inwrought, 205

That in Kaukasus' distant mountains from out of the rock was

brought

By gryphon claws, for they guarded, and shall guard it unto

this day.

And from Araby came the people who stole it by craft away,--

Elsewhere shall be none so precious,--and they bare it to

Araby

Where they weave Achmardi and Pfellel, and no vesture like

_that_ shall be! 210

His shield, round his neck he hung it--There stood a charger

proud,

Well-nigh to the hoof was it armed--and the squires cried the

war-cry loud,

And he sprang on his steed as he found it; and many a spear

of might

Did he break with strong hand in the Tourney, and where men

did the closest fight

There he brake a way thro' the mêlée, and came forth on the

further side, 215

And ever behind the Ostrich the Anchor did close abide.

Gamuret smote from off his charger Poytewin of Prienlaskors

And many another hero, their pledge must they yield perforce.

But what knight bare the cross he rejoiced him in the hero's

valiant deeds,

And much did he win by his valour, since he gave him the

captured steeds. 220

Now four banners, with self-same bearing, were led 'gainst

that gallant knight,

(And bold riders they rode beneath them, and their lord was a

man of might,)

And on each was the tail of a gryphon; and that hinder part I

trow

Was e'en as a hailstorm smiting, so rode they in goodly row.

And Gascony's king before them the fore part of that gryphon

bare 225

On his shield; he was skilled in battle, and his body was

armed full fair

As women alone might arm him; and he rode forth his knights

before

Where he saw on a helm the Ostrich, but the Anchor towards

him bore,

And he thrust him from off his charger, the brave king of

Zassamank,

And made of him there his captive. Here close thronged the

knightly ranks, 230

And the furrows were trodden level, and their locks must the

sword-blade know,

And many a wood was wasted, and many a knight laid low--

And they who thus fell, 'twas told me, they turned their

chargers round

And hied to the back of the Tourney, where none but the

cowards were found.

And so near was I ween the combat that the women might see

aright 235

Who there won the prize of valour; Rivalein that love-lorn

knight

With his spear hewed afresh a token, of Loheneis was he king,

And the crash of the splintered spear-shaft did aye with his

onslaught ring.

Of a knight did Morhold rob them, for he drew him from off

his steed

And lifted him up before him (unseemly methinks such deed) 340

And Killirjacac they called him,--and ere this King Lac had

ta'en

Such payment from him as in falling a knight from the earth

may gain--

So his deeds had been fair and knightly; then this valiant

man he thought

He would take him with never a sword-thrust, and the knight

in his arms he caught.

Then the hand of the valiant Kailet it smote from the

saddle-bow 245

The Duke of Brabant, Prince Lambekein, and the hero was laid

alow.

And what think ye they did, his soldiers? Their swords into

shields they turned,

And with them did they guard their monarch--And ever for

strife they yearned.

Then the King of Arragon smote him Uther Pendragon old,

From his charger adown on the meadow fell the king of the

Bretons bold, 250

And the flowers stood fair around him--Ah! I courteous am I,

I trow,

Since the Breton before Kanvoleis I lay on such couch alow,

Where never the foot of a peasant hath trodden unto this day,

Nay, perchance they may never tread there--'tis the truth and

no lie I say--

No more might he keep his saddle as he sat on his steed of

yore, 255

But his peril his friends forgat not, they fought fiercely

the hero o'er.

And many a course was ridden; and the king of Punturtois

Fell prone in his horse's hoof-tracks on the field before

Kanvoleis,

And low did he lie behind it--'Twas Gamuret dealt the blow--

'Ride on, on thy course, thou hero, and tread thy foemen

low!' 260

Strife giveth whereon to trample! Then Kailet, his kinsman

true,

Made the Punturtois his captive, tho' he scarce pierced the

mêlée thro'.

Brandelidelein was prisoner, and his folk they had lost their

king,

In his stead another monarch to their host did they captive

bring.

And hither and thither sped they, the heroes, in armour good, 265

And by blows and by trampling kneaded, of alum I ween their

food;

And dark on their skin the swellings, and many a gallant

knight

Might speak, as he knew, of bruises he had won him in

hard-fought fight.

Now as simple truth I say it, little rest was their portion

here,

By love were they forced to conflict, many shields with their

blazon clear, 270

And many a goodly helmet whose covering the dust should be.

And the meadow with flowers was sprinkled, and green turf ye

there might see,

And there fell on it many a hero, who of honour had won such

meed--

More modest were my desiring! 'Twould content me to sit my

steed.

Then the king of Zassamank rode forth a space from the

knightly fray 275

Where a rested steed did wait him, and the diamond he loosed

alway,

With no thought of pride in the doing, but the breezes blew

fresh and cool,

And the squires unbound his vizor, and his lips shone so red

and full.

I have named unto ye a lady--Her chaplain did hither ride,

And with him three noble pages, and strong squires were there

beside; 280

And pack-horses twain they led there, and the will of their

queen they'ld do,

She was Lady of France, Anflisé--Her chaplain was wise and

true,

And straightway he knew the hero, and in French should his

greeting be,

'Soit le bien venu, mon beau sire' to my lady as e'en to me,

As queen of France she reigneth whom the lance of thy love

doth smite, 285

And he gave to his hand a letter, and therein read the

gallant knight

A greeting fair, and a token it held of a finger-ring--

As pledge of the truth of his mission the chaplain the same

must bring

His lady of old received it from the hand of the Angevin--

Then he bowed as he saw the letter. Would ye hear what was

writ therein? 290

'Here biddeth thee love and greeting a heart that hath ne'er

been free

From grief since it knew thy service--Thy love is both lock

and key

To my heart, and my heart's rejoicing! For thy love am I like

to die,

If thy love afar abideth, then all love from my heart shall

fly.

Come thou, and take from my true hand crown, sceptre, and

kingdom fair, 295

It falleth to me as heirdom, and thy love well may claim a

share.

As payment for this thy service rich presents I send to thee,

Four pack-horses' chests well laden--I would thou my knight

shouldst be

In this the land of the Waleis, 'fore the city of Kanvoleis.

I care not if the queen shall see it, small harm may

therefrom arise, 300

For fairer am I, and richer, and I think me shall better know

To take the love that is proffered, and love in return

bestow.

Wilt thou live in true love as shall 'seem thee? Then here do

I bid thee take

My crown as thy love's rewarding--This I pray for my true

love's sake.'

And no more did he find in the letter--Then his squires once

more they drew 305

O'er his head the under-helmet; from Gamuret sorrow flew,

And he bound on the helm of diamond, 'twas harder than blade

might pierce,

For he thought again to prove him, and ride forth to conflict

fierce.

And the messengers did he bid them to lead to the tent for

rest:

And he cleared a space around him wherever the conflict

pressed. 310

This was vanquished, and that one victor--Did a knight

o'er-long delay

To win to him fame in battle, his chance might he find

to-day.

Here twain would joust together; in troops would these others

ride;

And the customs of friendly combat for a space did they lay

aside,

And sworn brotherhood nothing counted 'fore the strength of

fierce anger's might, 315

And the crooked was seldom straightened; nor spake they of

knightly right,

What they captured they kept, uncaring if another's hate they

won,

And from many lands had they ridden who with brave hands

brave deeds had done,

And their hurts but little grieved them. Here Gamuret heard

her prayer,

And e'en as Anflisé bade him, as her knight to the field

would fare; 320

'Twas a letter had brought the tidings--Ah! he giveth his

courage rein,

Is it love or the lust of battle that driveth him on amain?

Great love and strong faith they quicken his strength into

life anew.

Now see where his shield he beareth, King Lot, that hero

true,

His foemen to flight had forced him save for Gamuret's strong

right hand, 325

His charger in gallant onslaught brake its way thro' the

threatening band,

And Arragon's king was smitten from his horse with a spear of

reed,

'Schaffilor was his name, and the spear-point which thrust

him from off his steed

Bare never a waving pennon, from paynim lands 'twas brought,'

And the knight made the king his captive, tho' his folk they

had bravely fought. 330

And the inner force drave the outer far back on the grassy

plain.

'Twas a good vesper-play, yea, a Tourney; many spears did

they smite in twain--

Then Lähelein 'gain wax wrathful, 'Shall our honour be reft

away?

'Tis the fault of him of the Anchor! Now one of us twain

to-day

Shall lay in short space the other on a couch that he liketh

ill, 335

For here are they well-nigh victors!' Then they cleared them

a space at will,

And no child's play it was that combat--In such wise with

their hands they wrought

That a woodland was well-nigh wasted; and alike from their

squires they sought

'New spears! New spears! Bring them hither!' Yet Lähelein he

must know

Sorrow and shame, for his foeman thrust him down from his

horse alow, 340

And he smote him the length of the spear-iron in a shaft of

reed made fast,

And one read of itself his surety, for the knight to the

earth was cast.

(Yet better I like to read them, sweet pears on the ground

that lie

As thick as the knights lay round him! for his was the

victory!)

And the cry arose from many who had fallen in joust before, 345

'Fly! Fly! For the Anchor cometh!' Then a knight towards him

bore,

(A prince of the Angevin country) and grief was his comrade

true,

For he bare a shield inverted, and sorrow it taught anew

To the King, for the badge he knew it--Ah! why did he turn

aside?

If ye will, I the truth will tell ye, 'twas given in royal

pride 350

By Galoes the son of Gandein, Gamuret's brother true,

Ere Love this guerdon gave him that the hero in joust she

slew.

Then he loosed from his head the helmet: nor thro' grass, nor

thro' dust and sand

Did he make him a way to the conflict, but he yielded to

grief's command;

And his thoughts within him battled, that he sought not ere

this to hear 355

From Kailet, his friend and kinsman, how it fared with his

brother dear

That he came not here to the Tourney--Alas! tho' he knew it

not,

He had fallen before Monthorie--Sore sorrow was there his

lot,

For to anguish did love constrain him, the love of a noble

queen;

For his loss had she grieved so sorely that death had her

portion been. 360

And tho' sorely Gamuret sorrowed, yet had he in half a day

So many spear-shafts broken, were it Tourney indeed this fray

Then had he a woodland wasted. Did I think me to count each

spear

One hundred in fight had he shattered, each blazoned with

colours clear--

But the heralds, they won his pennons, in sooth were they

theirs of right-- 365

Then toward the fair pavilion he turned him, the gallant

knight.

And the Waleis squire rode after; and his was the coat so

fair,

All pierced and hewn with sword-thrust, which he did to his

lady bear;

And yet with gold was it precious, and it shone with a fiery

glow,

And right well might ye see its richness. Then joy did the

queen's heart know, 370

And she spake, 'A fair woman sent thee, with this knight, to

this distant land!

Now, courteous, I must bethink me lest these heroes ashamed

shall stand

Who have risked their fate in this venture--goodwill unto all

I bear,

For all do I count my kinsmen, since Adam's flesh we share,

Yet Gamuret's hand, I think me, the highest prize hath won.' 375

But by wrath constrained they battled till the shadows of

night drew on,

And the inner host the outer by force to their tents had

brought,

Save for Askalon's king and Morhold thro' the camp they their

way had fought.

Some were winners, and some were losers, and many sore shame

had earned,

While others won praise and honour. Then the foe from each

other turned, 380

Here no man might see--He who holdeth the stakes, if no light

he show,

Who would cast the dice in the darkness? To such sport were

the weary slow!

Men well might forget the darkness where Gamuret did abide,

'Twas as day--That in sooth it was not, but light shone on

every side

From many small tapers clustered. There, laid on the olive

wood, 385

Was many a costly cushion, and by each couch a carpet good.

Then the queen, she rode to the doorway with many a maid of

rank,

For fain would they see, those ladies, the brave king of

Zassamank.

Many wearied knights thronged after--The cloth had they borne

away

Ere she came to the fair pavilion; then the host he uprose

straightway, 390

And the monarchs four his captives (and many a prince was

there),

And she welcomed him with due honour, and she saw him, and

deemed him fair.

Then glad spake the queen of the Waleis, 'Thou art host where

we twain do stand,

And I, even so I think me, am hostess o'er all this land,

If thou deem it well I should kiss thee, such kiss seemeth

good to me!' 395

'Thy kiss shall be mine if these heroes, e'en as I, shall be

kissed by thee,

But if princes and kings must forego it, 'twere unfit I such

boon should crave!'

'Yea, e'en as thou wilt, so be it, tho' ne'er saw I these

heroes brave!'

Then she kissed, e'en as Gamuret prayed her, these princes of

noble line,

And he prayed her to sit, and beside her sat the King

Brandelidelein! 400

Then lightly they strewed, o'er the carpet, green rushes yet

wet with dew,

And he sat him down upon them whose presence brought joy anew

To the gracious queen of the Waleis; and love did her soul

constrain,

And as Gamuret sat before her his hand did she clasp again,

And she drew him once more towards her, and she set him her

seat beside. 405

No wife was she, but a maiden, from whose hand did such grace

betide.

Would ye know the name they called her? Herzeleide the queen

was she,

(And her cousin was hight Rischoydè, King Kailet should her

husband be,

And _he_ was Gamuret's cousin), and so radiant the queen, and

bright,

That e'en though they quenched the tapers, in her presence

'twould still be light! 410

(Were it not that a mighty sorrow his joy which aloft would

fly

Had beaten to earth, I think me he had wooed her right

readily.)

And courteous they spake to each other: then cup-bearers drew

anigh,

And from Assagog the vessels, and their cost might no man

deny;

And noble pages bare them, many costly bowls and fair, 415

Of precious jewels wroughten, and wide, none too small, they

were,

And none of them all were golden--'twas the tribute of that

fair land,

Which Eisenhart oft had proffered, when love's need nerved

his knightly hand.

And the drink unto each they proffered in many a coloured

stone,

And of emerald some, and of sardius, and of ruby some wrought

alone. 420

Then there drew near to his pavilion two knights who their

word must swear,

(To the outer host were they captive and from thence to the

town would fare.)

And one of them was King Kailet; and he looked upon Gamuret,

And he saw him sit heavy-hearted, and he spake, 'Dost thou

sorrow yet

For all men they own thy valour; Herzeleide and kingdoms

twain 425

Hast thou won, and all tongues have said it, to thy praises

all men are fain,

Be they Britons or men of Ireland--Who speaketh with foreign

tongue,

If France be their land, or Brabant, with one voice they thy

praise have sung,

That none here both skill and wisdom in strife like to thine

have shown.

True letter it is I read thee! No slumber thy strength hath

known, 430

When these knights thou hast put in peril who surety ne'er

sware of old,

Brandelidelein the monarch, and Lähelein, hero bold;

And Hardeiss and King Schaffilor; yea, and Rassalig the Moor,

Whom thine hand before Patelamunt o'erthrew and he surety

swore,

Such lesson thou there didst teach him--Yea, this doth thy

fame desire 435

That with every coming conflict it broader shall wax and

higher.'

'The queen sure will deem thou ravest, if in this wise thou

praisest me,

Yet I think not that thou shalt sell me, since the buyer the

flaw shall see;

Thy mouth is o'er-full of praises! Say, how hast thou come

again?'

'The worthy folk of Punturtois, this knight from fair

Champagne 440

And myself have loosed, and Morhold who this nephew hath

stolen of mine

Will set him free, if on thy part thou wilt free

Brandelidelein;

Otherwise are we captive to them, both I and my sister's son,

But such grace thou wilt surely show us--Here such

vesper-play was run

That it cometh not to a Tourney this while before Kanvoleis, 445

And in sooth do I know how it standeth! Here sit they before

mine eyes,

The strength of the outer army--now speak, tell me when and

how

They could hold the field against us? Much fame hast thou

won, I trow!'

Then the queen she spake to the hero from a true heart full

tenderly,

'Whate'er be my claim upon thee, I pray thee to let it be. 450

I were fain of thy service worthy--If here I my right shall

claim,

And thine honour thereby be tarnished, I will leave thee nor

mar thy fame!'

Then he sprang to his feet, the chaplain of Anflisé the wise

and fair,

And he quoth, 'Nay, my queen doth claim him, at her will to

this land I fare.

For his love hath she sent me hither, for his love she afar

doth pine, 455

And her love layeth claim upon him and _hers_ shall he be,

not _thine_.

O'er all women I ween doth she love him: here as messengers

hath she sent

Three princes, lads free from falsehood; and the one is hight

Lazident

Of noble birth from Greenland, and in Kärlingen doth he

dwell,

And his own hath he made the language; and the second his

name I'll tell, 460

Liodarz he, a count his father, and Schyolarz was he hight.

And who was the third? Will ye hearken, his kinship I'll tell

aright:

Belleflur she hath been his mother, Pansamur was his father's

name,

Liahturteltart they called him, of the race of the fays he

came.

Then they ran all three before him, and they spake, 'Wouldst

thy fortune prove? 465

(The queen of France doth proffer the chance of a worthy

love.)

Thou shalt play the game, and never a pledge shall be asked

from thee,

Nor thy joy be to sorrow forfeit, as it waxeth still fair and

free!'

Then e'en while they spake their errand Kailet he had ta'en

his seat

'Neath a fold of the royal mantle, and she spake to him low

and sweet, 470

'Now say, hath worse harm befallen? Methinks I the wounds

have seen?'

In that same hour his wounds and bruises she sought out, the

gracious queen,

With her white hands so small and shapely, which their wisdom

from God must win,

And sore was he cut and wounded on nose and on cheek and

chin.

He had won for his wife the cousin of the queen who such

honour fair 475

Would show him, herself would she tend him, and her hands for

his hurts should care.

Then e'en as courtesy bade her she spake unto Gamuret,

'The fair queen of France, it seemeth, her heart upon thee

hath set;

Now honour in me all women, and give what I here may claim,

Go not till men judge betwixt us, else thou leavest me here

to shame.' 480

This he sware unto her, the hero, and leave she from him

would crave,

And she passed thence, and then King Kailet, that monarch so

true and brave,

He lifted her to her saddle; and he turned him about once

more

And came into the pavilion, where his kinsman and friends he

saw.

Then spake he unto King Hardeiss, 'Aleiss thy sister fair 485

She proffered her love, I took it--Now wedded is she

elsewhere,

And a better than I is her husband! No longer thus wrathful

frown,

Prince Lambekein, he hath won her--tho' in sooth she shall

wear no crown,

Yet honour enough is her portion--Brabant and Hennegau

Do her service, and many a brave knight doth unto her bidding

bow. 490

If thy mind it shall turn to greet me let thy favour be mine

once more,

And take thou again my service of a true heart as aye of

yore.'

Then the king of Gascony answered as befitted a hero brave,

'Yea, soft is thy speech, yet if greeting I give thee as thou

dost crave,

Who hath offered to me such insult, men will deem _fear_ such

grace hath won, 495

For captive am I to thy cousin!' 'Yet ill shall he deal with

none,

Gamuret, he shall grant thy freedom, that boon my first

prayer shall be:

No man shall thereto constrain thee, yet my service the day

shall see

When thou as thy friend shalt claim me. For the shame, 'tis

enow I wot,

For whate'er _thou_ mayst do against me, thy sister, she

slayeth me not!' 500

Then all at his words laughed loudly. But their mirth it was

soon o'erpast

For his true heart the host constrainèd, and desire held him

once more fast,

And a sharp goad I ween is sorrow--Then the heroes they saw

right well

How he wrestled anew with sorrow and his joy in the conflict

fell;

And his cousin he waxed right wrathful, and he spake, 'Now

thou doest ill.' 505

'Nay, nay, for I needs must sorrow, and naught may my

yearning still

For the queen I have left behind me, afar on a heathen shore,

Pure wife and true is that lady, and my heart she hath

wounded sore.'

'And her purity doth constrain me to mourn for her love so

sweet,

Vassals and lands she gave me; yet joy for a true knight meet 510

Belakané of that hath robbed me! yet shame for a wavering

mind

I think me is right and manly--With such fetters her love did

bind

That she held me afar from Tourney, nor in search of strife I

went;

Then I thought me that deeds of knighthood should free me

from ill-content,

And here have I somewhat striven--Now many a fool would say 515

That I, for her colour, fled her, to my eyes was she light as

day!

For her womanhood true I sorrow; o'er all others her worth

stood high

As the boss from the shield outstandeth. And another grief

have I,

And here make I my moan unto ye, my brother's arms I saw,

But the shield on which they were blazoned, with point

up-turned they bore.' 520

(Ah! woe for the words that are spoken, and the tidings of

grief they bring!)

His eyes they o'erflowed with water, that gallant Spanish

king,

'Alas! O queen for thy madness, thro' thy love is Galoes

slain,

Whom every faithful woman from her heart shall mourn amain

If she would that her dealing win her true honour in true

man's thought. 525

Ah! queen of Auvergne I think me, tho' small grief it to thee

hath brought,

Yet thro' thee have I lost my kinsman, tho' his ending was

fit and fair,

For a knightly joust hath slain him who thy token in strife

would bear!

And these princes here, his comrades, their heartfelt grief

they show,

As in funeral train their shield's-breadth do they turn to

the earth below, 530

For thus hath great sorrow taught them--In this guise do they

knightly deeds,

Heavy-hearted that he, my cousin, serveth no more for true

love's meed!'

He hath won him another heart-grief as his brother's death is

told,

And he spake aloud in his sorrow, 'Now mine anchor hath found

its hold

And its haven in bitter rueing,' and the badge did he lay

aside, 535

And his grief taught him bitter anguish, and aloud the hero

cried,

'Galoes of Anjou! henceforward shall never a man deny

That on earth ne'er was born thine equal for manhood and

courtesy,

And the fruit of a free hand knightly from thine heart did it

bloom amain.

Ah! woe is me for thy goodness!' then to Kailet he spake

again, 540

'How goeth it with Schoettè, my mother, of joy bereft?'

'So that God hath had pity on her! When Gandein this life had

left,

And dead was Galoes thy brother, and thou wert not by her

side,

And she saw thee no more, then death brake her heart, and she

too hath died!'

Then out quoth the Gascon Hardeiss, 'Turn thy will to a manly

mien, 545

Thou shalt mourn but in fitting measure if true manhood thine

own hath been!'

But too great was the load of his sorrow, and the tears as a

flood must flow

From his eyes--Then all things he ordered that the knights a

fair rest might know,

And he went where he saw his chamber, of samite the little

tent,

And in grief and sore lamentation the hours of the night he

spent. 550

When there dawned another morning the knights together came,

The inner host and the outer, all who thought there to win

them fame;

Were they young or old, were they cowardly or brave, they

fought not that day.

And the light grew to middle morning: yet so worn were they

with the fray,

And the horses so spent with spurring, that the knights in

battle tried 555

Were yet by weariness vanquished--Then the queen herself

would ride,

And the valiant men from the open would she bring to the town

again,

And the best of the knights within there she bade ride to the

Leo-plain;

And straightway they did her bidding, and they rode in their

knightly ranks,

And they came ere the Mass was ended to the sad king of

Zassamank. 560

Then the benediction spoken, Herzeleide the queen she came,

And e'en as the folk upheld her, so she laid to the knight

her claim:

Then he spake, 'A wife have I Lady, and than life shall she

be more dear,

Yea, and e'en if I were without her thou another tale

shouldst hear

That afar should drive me from thee, if men here shall list

my right!' 565

But the queen she looked upon him, and she spake to the

gallant knight:

'Thou shalt leave thy Moorish lady for my love; stronger far

shall be

The blessing that baptism giveth! From heathendom set thee

free,

And wed me in Christian marriage, since my heart for thy love

doth yearn.

Or say shall the French queen's message to my shame and my

sorrow turn? 570

Sweet words did they speak her people, and thou heardest them

to the end!'

'Yea, she is in truth my lady. When I back to Anjou must

wend,

Then fair counsels and courteous customs with me from her

land I brought;

Yea, even to-day doth she help me whom from childhood to man

she taught.

She hath fled all that mars a woman--We were children then,

she and I, 575

Yet gladly we saw each other in the days that are long gone

by!

The noble queen Anflisé, in true womanhood hath she share,

From her lands a goodly income she gave me, that lady fair,

(In those days was I still a poor man), yet I took it right

willingly,

As a poor man thou still shalt count me, and Lady, shalt pity

me, 580

He is dead, my gallant brother--Of thy courtesy press me not,

Turn thy love where thou findest gladness, for sorrow is aye

my lot!'

'Nay, let me not longer sorrow; how wilt thou deny my claim?'

'Thy question I'll gladly answer, here a _Tourney_ thou didst

proclaim,

That Tourney hath not been holden, as many shall witness

bear' 585

'For the vesper-play hath marred it! The knights who had

foughten there

So well have they tamed their ardour that the Tourney hath

come to naught,'

'I did but defend thy city with others that bravely fought;

Thou shouldst force me not to withstand thee, here have

others done more than I,

Mine the greeting that _all_ may claim here, other right

would I still deny!' 590

Then, so hath the venture told me, they chose them, both man

and maid,

A judge o'er the claim of the lady, and their cause they

before him laid,

And it drew near to middle morning, and thus did the verdict

run,

'What knight hath bound on his helmet, and hath hither for

conflict come,

And hath fought, and the prize hath holden, then that knight

he shall wed the queen.' 595

And unto the judgment spoken the knights gave consent I ween.

Spake the queen, 'Mine thou art, and I'll yield thee fair

service thy love to gain,

And will give thee of joy such portion that thy life shall be

free of pain!'

And yet bare he grief and sorrow--Now the April sun was o'er,

And had left behind a token in the garment the meadow bore, 600

With short green grass was it covered, so that coward hearts

waxed bold,

And won afresh high courage; and the trees did their buds

unfold

In the soft sweet air of the May-tide, and he came of the

fairy race

That aye loveth, or sweet love seeketh, and his friend she

would show him grace.

Then he looked on Queen Herzeleide, and he spake to her

courteously, 605

'If in joy we would live, O Lady, then my warder thou shalt

not be,

When loosed from the bonds of sorrow, for knighthood my heart

is fain;

If thou holdest me back from Tourney I may practise such

wiles again

As of old when I fled from the lady whom I won with mine own

right hand;

When from strife she would fain have kept me I fled from her

folk and land!' 610

Then she spake, 'Set what bonds thou willest, by thy word

will I still abide.'

'Many spears would I break asunder, and each month would to

Tourney ride,

Thou shalt murmur not O Lady when such knightly joust I'ld

run!'

This she sware, so the tale was told me, and the maid and her

lands he won.

The three pages of Queen Anflisé and her chaplain were nigh

at hand, 615

As the judgment was sealed and spoken they must hearken and

understand,

And he spake to the knight in secret, 'To my lady this tale

was told

How at Patelamunt thy valour did the guerdon of victory hold,

And that there two kingdoms served thee--And she too hath

lands I trow,

And she thinketh _herself_ to give thee, and riches and gold

enow!' 620

'As knighthood of old she taught me so must I hold fast alway

By the strength of the knightly order, and the rule of the

shield obey.

Thro' her my shield have I won me, else perchance I had worn

it not,

Here doth knightly verdict bind me, be sorrow or joy my lot.

Go ye homeward, and bear my service, her knight will I ever

be, 625

And for her is my deepest sorrow tho' all crowns were

awaiting me!'

Then he proffered to them of his riches, but his gifts did

they cast aside.

Yet was she not shamed their lady, tho' homeward they needs

must ride!

And they craved not leave, but they rode thence, as in anger

ye oft shall find,

And the princes' sons, her pages, well-nigh did they weep

them blind. 630

They who bare their shields inverted their friends spake to

them this word,

'The queen, fair Herzeleide, hath the Angevin for her lord.'

'Say, who from Anjou hath fought here? Our lord is, alas,

elsewhere;

He seeketh him fame 'gainst the heathen, and grief for his

sake we bear!'

'He who shall be here the victor, who hath smitten full many

a knight, 635

He who smote and pierced so fiercely, he who bare on his helm

of light

An anchor rare and costly, that knight is the knight we mean,

And King Kailet he spake his title, Gamuret Angevin--I ween

Good fortune doth here befall him!' Then swift to their

steeds they sprung,

And their raiment was wet with the tear-drops that grief from

their eye-lids wrung, 640

When they came where their lord was seated they gave him a

welcome fair,

And he in his turn would greet them, and sorrow and joy were

there.

Then he kissed his knights so faithful, and spake, 'Ye no

more shall make

Such measureless moan for my brother, his place I with ye

will take.

Turn your shields again as befits them, and as men who would

joyful fare; 645

My anchor hath struck its haven; my father's arms I'll bear,

For the anchor it is a symbol that befitteth a wandering

knight,

He who willeth may take and wear it. I must rule my life

aright

As now shall become my station: I am rich now, when shall I

be

The lord of this folk? For my sorrow it worketh but ill to

me. 650

Queen Herzeleide, help me that thou and I may pray

The kings that are here and princes for my service awhile to

stay,

Till thou unto me hast yielded that which love from true love

may crave!'

Thus both of them made petition, and the heroes their promise

gave.

Then each one went to his chamber, and the queen to her

knight spake low, 655

'Now yield thyself to my tending, and a hidden way I'll

show!'

For his guests did they care as fitting tho' the host was no

longer there,

The folk they were all together, but the knight he alone must

fare

Save for two of his pages only--Then the queen and her

maidens bright

They led him where gladness waited, and his sorrow was put to

flight, 660

And regret was o'erthrown and vanquished--And his heart it

waxed high and brave

As is ever the lot of lovers! and her maidenhood she gave

The queen, fair Herzeleide: nor their lips did they think to

spare,

But close did they cling in kisses; grief was conquered by

joy so fair!

Then courteous deeds were begun there; for free were his

captives set, 665

And the Kings Hardeiss and Kailet were made friends by

Gamuret.

And such marriage feast was holden that he who had proudly

thought

Hereafter to hold such another much riches thereto had

brought.

For this did Gamuret purpose, his wealth he would little

spare,

But Arabian gold did he scatter mid the poor knights; and

jewels rare 670

Did he give to the kings and princes who were there with the

host I ween;

And glad were the wandering players, for rich gifts had their

portion been.

Let them ride whom he there had feasted, from the Angevin

leave they prayed.

Then the panther the badge of his father on his shield they

in sable laid;

And a small white silken garment, a shift that the queen did

wear, 675

That had touched her naked body who now was his wife so fair,

This should be his corslet's cover. And of foemen it saw

eighteen

Pierced thro' and hewn with sword-blade ere he parted from

her his queen,

And aye as her love came homeward on her body that shift she

drew:

And many a shield had he shattered; and their love it waxed

strong and true. 680

And honour enow was his portion ere his manly courage bore

The knight o'er the seas to conflict, for his journey I

sorrow sore.

For there came unto him true tidings, how the Baruch, his

lord of old,

Was beset by mighty foemen, by Babylon's princes bold:

And the one he was called Ipomidon, and Pompey his brother's

name 685

(For so hath the venture told me), a proud man of warlike

fame.

('Twas not he whom Julius Cæsar had driven from Rome of

yore).

His uncle was Nebuchadnezzar, who in books found the lying

lore

That he himself should a god be, (o'er this would our folk

make sport)

And of noble race these brothers, nor of strength nor of gold

spared aught. 690

From Ninus they came who was ruler ere ever Bagdad might be,

Nineveh did he found--Now an insult and a shame vexed them

bitterly,

The Baruch as vassals claimed them--So the combat was won and

lost,

And bravely the heroes battled, and on each side they paid

the cost.

Thus Gamuret sailed the water, and aid to the Baruch brought, 695

And gladly he bade him welcome; tho' I weep that that land he

sought!

How it chanced there, how went the conflict, gain or loss,

how the thing might be

Naught of that knew Queen Herzeleide; and bright as the sun

was she,

And her form it was fair to look on, and both riches had she

and youth,

And more than too much her gladness! I think me in very truth 700

She had sped past the goal of all wishes--And on wisdom her

heart was set,

And she won from the whole world favour; her fair deeds with

fair guerdon met,

And all men praised Herzeleide, the queen, as both fair and

true,

And the queen of three kingdoms was she, of Waleis and fair

Anjou,

Of these twain was she aye the ruler; and beside them in far

Norgals 705

Did she bear the crown and sceptre, in the city of

Kingrivals.

And so dear did she hold her husband, if never a maid might

win

So gallant a man, what recked she? She counted it not for

sin.

As for half a year he was absent she looked for his coming

sure,

For but in the thought of that meeting might the life of the

queen endure. 710

Then brake the sword of her gladness thro' the midst of the

hilt in twain,

Ah me! and alas! for her mourning, that goodness should bear

such pain

And faith ever waken sorrow! Yea, so doth it run alway

With the life of men, and to-morrow must they mourn who

rejoice to-day!

So it chanced that the queen one noontide in a restless

slumber lay, 715

'Twas as if with a start she wakened and by lightning was

borne away,

And towards the clouds it bare her, and they smote her with

mighty force,

The fiery bolts of Heaven, as they sped on their downward

course,

And sparks sprang from her floating tresses mid the fire of

the circling spheres,

And the thunder crashed loud around her, and the rain-drops

were burning tears. 720

For a little space was she conscious, then a grip on her

right hand fell,

And, lo! it was changed, the vision, and wondrous things

befell;

For then did she nurse a dragon, that forth from her body

sprung,

And its dragon life to nourish awhile at her breast it hung,

Then it fled from her sight so swiftly she might look on it

never more: 725

And her heart it brake for the anguish, and the terror and

grief she bore.

And never methinks a woman in slumber such woe hath seen,

But now had she been so joyful, alas! all was changed I ween,

And sorrow should be her portion, and her ill it waxed long

and wide,

And the shadow of coming sorrow did still on her heart abide. 730

Then she did what afore she could not, for the terror that on

her lay,

She stretched her limbs in her slumber, and moaned in her

grief alway,

And she cried aloud on her people; and many a maid sat by

And they sprang to her side at her summons, and wakened her

speedily.

Then Tampaneis he came riding, of her husband's squires the

chief, 735

And many a page was with him, and joy's goal was o'erpassed

in grief,

And they cried, 'He was dead, their master!' And her senses

forsook the queen,

And she fell aback in her anguish--And the knights spake,

'How hath this been?

Hath our lord been slain in his harness, who ever was armed

so well?'

And tho' sorely the squire must sorrow, to the heroes the

tale he'ld tell: 740

'No long life should he have, my master! His helm he put off

awhile,

The heat thereto constrained him--'twas accursed heathen

guile

That stole him from us, our hero--A knight took a he-goats

blood,

And from a long glass he poured it on the helmet of diamond

good,

And softer than sponge grew the diamond. May He Whom as Lamb

they show 745

With the Cross in His hold, have mercy on the deeds that are

wrought below!'

'Then when one host met the other: Ah! that was indeed a

fight,

And the knights who were with the Baruch they fought all as

men of might,

And there in the field by Bagdad full many a shield was

pierced,

As they flew each one on the other, and they mingled in

charges fierce, 750

And banner was mixed with banner, many fell who had bravely

fought,

And my lord's hand it did such wonders that his foemen became

as nought,

But Ipomidon he came riding, and with death would reward the

knight,

And he smote him down, and I think me many thousands they saw

that sight.'

'For my master, free from falsehood, rode against

Alexandria's king, 755

But, alas! for the guile of the heathen, this joust but his

death should bring,

For the spear cut sheer thro' the helmet, and it pierced

thro' my master's brain

(In his head did they find the splinters), yet the hero still

held the rein,

And dying he rode from the combat, o'er a wide plain his way

he'ld take,

And his chaplain he knelt above him, and in few words his

shrift he spake. 760

And he sent here the shift and the spear-blade that hath

robbed us of our friend,

He died free from sin--us his servants he did to the queen

commend!'

'At Bagdad was the hero buried, and the Baruch the cost would

pay,

With gold is it fair to look on, and rich is the tomb alway;

And many a costly jewel doth gleam where he lies at rest, 765

And embalmed was the fair young body (sad was many a faithful

breast);

And the grave-stone it is a ruby, and thro' it he shineth

clear,

And they granted us as with martyrs, the cross o'er his tomb

to rear,--

For as Christ by His death hath freed us, and to comfort that

soul so brave,

And for shelter we raised the symbol--And the Baruch the cost

he gave. 770

For the cross was of emerald wroughten: heathen counsel we

asked it not,

For they know not the Cross, nor the blessing that Christ's

death won for us I wot!

And the heathen they pray unto him as if he were a god in

truth,

Nor they do it the Cross to honour, nor hath Baptism taught

them ruth

(Tho' it looseneth _us_ from Hell's fetters when the

uttermost day shall dawn), 775

But his knightly faith and honour, who leaveth us here

forlorn,

Have wrought him a place in Heaven where he shineth with

Heaven's light,

And true penitence and confession--for falsehood e'er fled

that knight.'

'And there in his diamond helmet an epitaph did they grave,

And fast to the cross they fixed it o'er the tomb of that

hero brave, 780

And thus do they run the letters: '(_Through this helmet a

joust hath slain)

This hero who bare all manhood, and_ Gamuret _was his name,

As king did he rule o'er three kingdoms, in each land the

Crown he wore

Whom mighty princes followed--Anjou's land this hero bore,

And he lost his life for the Baruch at the city of Bagdad

fair._ 785

_And so high did it soar, his honour, that no knight may with

him compare,

Howe'er ye may test their dealings. Nor is he of woman born,

(I mean of the knightly order) to whose hand he his strength

had sworn.

But help and true manly counsel to his friends did he

steadfast give;

And thro' women much grief he suffered, for he would in their

favour live. 790

Baptized was he as a Christian tho' Saracens mourn him yet,

(This is truth and no lie)--All his lifetime since his years

were on wisdom set

His strength strove for fame and honour, till he fell in his

knightly pride,

Wish him bliss who here lieth buried! 'Twas by treason's hand

he died!_'

So spake the squire, and the Waleis who heard it must weep

full sore, 795

Cause hast they enow for sorrow! A living child she bore

Who of men was left unaided, Herzeleide the gracious queen,

With death the mother battled: her maidens were crazed I

ween,

Since they thought not to help their lady, for within her

womb she bare

Him who should be flower of all knighthood, if death did not

claim him there. 800

Then there came a wise man ancient to weep with his lady's

grief,

And he saw how with death she struggled, and he brought to

her swift relief;

For he forced her teeth asunder, and betwixt her lips they

pour

Water, and at their tending her senses they came once more.

Then she spake, and aloud she mourned him, 'My heart's

dearest, Ah! where is he? 805

For in sooth my heart's deepest gladness was in Gamuret's

chivalry,

Yet his valour of this hath robbed me--Now his _mother_ am I

and _wife_,

Tho' far younger was I, for within me do I carry his flesh

and life;

The love that we bore to each other hath been of such flower

the root,

And if God shall in truth be faithful, He withholdeth not

here the fruit. 810

Already too sore my sorrow for my husband so proud and brave,

What ill death hath wrought upon me! Her love never woman

gave,

But his heart it rejoiced in her gladness, and sad for her

grief was he,

Thus his true heart it gave him counsel who was aye from all

falsehood free.'

Now hearken yet more the story how the noble queen must

mourn, 815

Within her arms would she hold him, her child who was yet

unborn,

And she spake, 'Now God send me safely the child of my hero

fair,

For this is my heart's petition; God keep me from dark

despair,

'Twere Gamuret's second slaying if I thought myself to slay

While I bear of his love the token who was faithful to me

alway!' 820

Then careless of who might see her, the robe from her neck

she tore,

And her fair white breasts she tended with the wisdom of

mother-lore,

To her rosy lips she pressed them, 'Ah, thou food that shall

feed my son,

He hath sent thee before his coming who life from my life

hath won!'

And the queen it nothing vexed her that above her heart it

lay 825

The milk that her child should nourish, and softly she spake

alway,

'Twas true love that brought thee hither, if I yet unbaptized

should be

From thee had I won my baptism, and the tears which shall

flow so free,

And openly and in secret will I mourn for my husband dear!'

Then the shift with his life-blood crimsoned she bade them to

bring anear, 830

(Thus clad in the Baruch's army had Gamuret lost his life,

For he chose him a gallant ending in the turmoil and stress

of strife),

And then for the spear she prayed them wherewith was her

husband slain,

From Nineveh's Prince Ipomidon such guerdon he needs must

gain.

And tho' tattered and hewn to pieces yet the queen fain the

shift would wear, 835

As aforetime had been her custom when her lord did from

Tourney fare,

But her maidens who stood around her they took it from out

her hand,

And they carried them to the Minster, the highest from out

her land,

And the spear and the blood they buried as men bury a hero

dead,

And sorrow and bitter mourning thro' Gamuret's kingdom

spread. 840

And when fourteen days were ended a babe lay the queen

beside,

'Twas a son, and so great and goodly that the mother had

well-nigh died.

Now 'tis cast the die of the venture, and here doth my tale

begin,

For now is he born who henceforward this song for his own

shall win.

And now have ye heard the story of his father, his love and

grief, 845

Of his gallant life, and the treason that ended its span so

brief;

And ye know whence he came, the hero of this tale, and how

for long

He was hidden from deeds of knighthood, till his youth it

waxed bold and strong.

When the queen found sight and hearing she was fain on her

child to look,

And her maidens they bare him to her and the babe in her arms

she took; 850

And she saw his limbs soft rounded, and she knew she had born

a son,

And her maidens with her were joyful that the earth had a

man-child won.

(As he bare of a man the body, so manly was he of heart,

As a smith did he wield the sword-blade till fire from the

helm would start)

And no joy did she know, the mother, save ever her babe to

kiss, 855

And with soft words she spake to him ever, '_Bon fils, Cher

fils, Beau fils._'

And e'en as herself she bare him, so herself she his nurse

would be,

At his mother's breast was he nourished who was ever from

falsehood free.

And she thought she had won her husband by her prayers to her

arms again,

She all folly forsook, and meekness and truth in her heart

did reign. 860

And musing spake Herzeleide, 'The queen of Heaven high

Gave her breast to the dear Lord Jesu Who a bitter death

would die

As Man on the cross for man's sake, for thus did His love

begin:

Who thinketh light of His anger his soul's peace shall hardly

win,

Tho' he else were brave man and worthy--and this tale do I

know for true!' 865

Then the queen of the land she bathed her in heart sorrow's

bitter dew,

And her eyes on the babe rained tear-drops as soft in her

arms it lay,

For hers was the way of women, where a true heart holdeth

sway;

She could laugh and weep together, her heart joyed for her

baby's birth,

Yet the ford of her bitter sorrow had drowned in short space

her mirth. 870

BOOK III

GURNEMANZ

ARGUMENT

In the Introduction the poet speaks of the honour in which he

holds

all true women, though he be wroth with one who has wronged him.

Yet,

though women shall count him their friend, he would fain that

they

should honour him for his knightly deeds, rather than for this

his song.

In Book III. he tells of the sorrow and the faith of Queen

Herzeleide;

of Parzival's childhood; of his meeting with the knights; of his

faring forth to seek knighthood from King Arthur; and of the

death

of Herzeleide. How Parzival met with Jeschuté, and robbed her of

her

token, and of the wrath of her husband Orilus. Of the sorrow of

Siguné,

and how Parzival learnt his name and his lineage. How Parzival

met with

the Red Knight and bare his challenge to the court of King

Arthur, and

how he craved a boon of the king. Of the shaming of Kunnewaaré;

and of

the death of the Red Knight. How Parzival came to Gurnemanz of

Graharz

and was cured by him of his folly and taught all knightly wisdom,

and

how he rode forth from the land of Graharz.

BOOK III

GURNEMANZ

Is there ever a singer among you, who singeth a sweeter song

Of the favour and love of women, I hold not he does me wrong!

Full fain am I still to hearken to aught that may give them

joy,

But to one alone among women my homage I still deny.

Nay, ever the fire of my anger doth kindle and flame anew, 5

And the sorrow her treason wrought me, it grieveth me still I

trow!

I, whom men have named the singer, I, Wolfram of Eschenbach,

The words that against a woman I spake, I may ne'er take

back.

Nay, I hold fast my wrath for ever, and clasp it closer

still,

As I think how in soul and body alike hath she wrought me

ill! 10

How can I do aught but hate her, till death setteth seal on

life?

Yet it grieveth me sore that others should mingle in this our

strife;

It grieveth me sore that maidens should say, as they name my

name,

'Forsooth he hath shamed all women, let it be unto him for

shame!'

Nay, then, an they reckon for evil the words that in grief I

spake, 15

I will speak them no more for ever, though my heart should in

silence break!

But let them beware in their anger, these warlike maidens

fair,

How they stir from his eyrie the eagle, rouse the lion from

his lair!

Full well I know how to defend me, full well know I what

beseems

The maid of a knight's devotion, the maid of the poet's

dreams! 20

Let a maiden be steadfast-hearted, pure and true in word and

deed,

And her champion true she'll find me, comes there ever an

hour of need.

I hold his renown waxeth slowly, and halteth upon the road,

Who, for wrong at the hand of one woman, shall slander all

womanhood:

But if any will look upon me, and hearken to what I sing, 25

Of a sooth I will not deceive them, though my tale

over-strange may ring.

Born was I unto the bearing of knightly shield and spear,

And though sweet be the song of the singer, I hold it not all

too dear:

I had rather my love should love me for my deeds of high

renown,

Than because in the hall of the Wartburg they should crown me

with music's crown! 30

With the shield and the spear of knighthood will I seek for a

knight's reward,

Nor charm, with the harp of the singer, what I failèd to win

with the sword!

Nor in praise of fair women only runs this tale that I have

to tell,

Full many strange deeds it holdeth, and marvels that once

befell

Ere the course of this wondrous venture be tracèd unto its

end; 35

Yet he who heareth shall reckon, if he fain would account me

friend,

That this is no book he readeth, for no maker of books am I!

But a singer of strange adventures, and of knightly prowess

high:

Stripped bare will I be of all honour, naked and reft of

fame,

Ere I trust my renown unto letters, and give to a book my

name! 40

It vexes me, soul and body, that so many should bear the name

And speak with the tongue of women, who reck not of woman's

fame;

That those who have known no falsehood, and those who are

swift to fall,

Should carry one name in common, be counted as sisters all!

A truth that has faltered never, a faith that has aye

withstood, 45

Is the only glory of woman, the crown of her womanhood!

Many will say, 'What good thing can come out of poverty?'

She who for love endures it, she 'scapeth Hell thereby,

And, in the kingdom of Heaven, receiveth a hundredfold

For all she has borne for love's sake, new joys for her

sorrows old! 50

Not one have I known in my lifetime, I count it a bitter

truth,

Neither a man nor a maiden, who the joy and the pride of

youth,

And all earth's riches and honour, will leave as a worthless

thing

If weighed with the glory of Heaven, and the service of

Heaven's King!

But Queen Herzeleide only, she left her fair estate, 55

In her youth of all joy bereavèd, with sorrow afar to mate.

So holy was she and gentle, so faithful and pure of mind,

That no tongue spake a word against her, and no eye a fault

could find.

Sunlight or shadow, what recked she? the day was to her as

night,

For her heart was the home of sorrow, and dead was the

world's delight. 60

And in sorrow and grief she wandered, till she came to

Soltanè's strand,

A woodland wild and lonely afar from her native land:

Fair flowers might bloom and blossom without, on the sunlit

plain,

And be woven in rosy chaplets, but for her they would bloom

in vain!

And there, mid the woodland shadows, she hid with Gamuret's

son, 65

For she willed that her life's last treasure be revealed unto

none:

So she called her folk around her, (who toiled in the upland

field

With oxen and plough, that the furrows their daily bread

might yield,)

And she charged them all, by the service which she as their

queen might claim,

That they hide from the boy his birthright and the fame of

his father's name. 70

'For the knightly deeds ye vaunt of, and the glory and pride

of war,

Have wrought me but heart's affliction, and trouble and

anguish sore,

So, lest I yet more should suffer, I pray you, my servants

dear,

That ye speak no word of knighthood, lest my son perchance

should hear!'

Then full sore were her people grievèd, for they held it an

evil thing, 75

And a training that ill beseemèd the son of a mighty king.

But his mother kept him hidden in the woodland valleys wild,

Nor thought in her love and sorrow how she wronged the kingly

child:

No knightly weapon she gave him, save such as in childish

play

He wrought himself from the bushes that grew on his lonely

way, 80

A bow and arrows he made him, and with these, in thoughtless

glee,

He shot at the birds as they carolled o'erhead in the leafy

tree.

But when the feathered songster of the woods at his feet lay

dead,

In wonder and dumb amazement he bowed down his golden head,

And in childish wrath and sorrow tore the locks of his sunny

hair; 85

(For I wot well of all earth's children was never a child so

fair

As this boy, who afar in the desert from the haunts of

mankind did dwell,

Who bathed in the mountain streamlet, and roamed o'er the

rock-strewn fell!)

Then he thought him well how the music, which his hand had

for ever stilled,

Had thrilled his soul with its sweetness, and his heart was

with sorrow filled, 90

And the ready tears of childhood flowed forth from their

fountains free

As he ran to his mother weeping, and bowed him beside her

knee.

'What aileth thee child?' quoth the mother, 'but now wast

thou gay and glad'--

But, childlike, he gave no answer, scarce wist he what made

him sad!

But Queen Herzeleide watched him through the sunny summer

days, 95

Till beneath a tree she saw him stand silent, with upturned

gaze,

And a look of joyful rapture in the radiant childish eyes,

As he listed the bird, that, soaring, sang clear thro' the

cloudless skies;

And the mother's heart was troubled, and her wrath waxed to

fever heat,

She would brook in his love no rival--not even God's singers

sweet! 100

So she sent forth in haste her servants, with many a cunning

snare

To capture the singers whose music made joyful the woodlands

fair.

Then, alas! for the birds, who struggled in the cruel snare

in vain,

Yet some few burst their bonds, and joyful, brake forth into

song again!

Then the boy spake,'Now sweet my mother, why trouble the

birds so sore? 105

Forsooth they can ne'er have harmed thee, ah, leave them in

peace once more!'

And his mother kissed him gently, 'Perchance I have wrought a

wrong,

Of a truth, the dear God who made them, He gave unto them

their song,

And I would not that one of his creatures should sorrow

because of me.'

But the boy looked up in wonder, 'God, Mother? Who may God

be?' 110

'My son, He is light beyond all light, brighter than summer's

day,

And He bare a Man's Face, that we men might look on His Face

alway!

Art thou ever in need of succour? call on Him in thine hour

of ill,

And be sure He will fail thee never, but will hear thee, and

help thee still.

Yet one there is dwelleth in darkness, and I wot men may fear

him well, 115

For his home is the house of falsehood, and his kingdom the

realm of Hell!

Turn thy mind away from him ever, nor waver betwixt the

twain,

For he who doubteth, his labour shall ever be wrought in

vain.'

Thus his mother read him the riddle, the myst'ry of day and

night,

The dread and the doom of darkness, and the glory and grace

of light! 120

Then javelin in hand he hastened thro' the forest pathways

wild,

And the deer sprang up from their thickets, and fled from the

dauntless child;

But clear-eyed and eager-footed he hastened upon their track,

And full oft with a hornèd trophy, at even he hied him back.

Little cared he for rain or sunshine, summer's storm or

winter's snow, 125

And daily in strength and beauty all men might behold him

grow;

Till at length no beast so mighty thro' the forest wild did

roam,

If it fell 'neath his shaft, unaided, on his shoulder he bore

it home!

It chanced thro' a woodland thicket one morn as he took his

way,

And brake from o'erhanging bushes full many a leafy spray, 130

That a pathway steep and winding rose sharply his track

anear,

And the distant beat of horse-hoofs fell strange on his

wondering ear.

Then the boy grasped his javelin firmly and thought what the

sound might be;

'Perchance 'tis the devil cometh! Well, I care not if it be

he!

Methinks I can still withstand him, be he never so fierce and

grim, 135

Of a truth my lady mother she is o'er-much afraid of _him_!

As he stood there for combat ready, behold, in the morning

light,

Three knights rode into the clearing, in glittering armour

bright;

From head to foot were they armèd, each one on his gallant

steed,

And the lad as he saw their glory thought each one a god

indeed! 140

No longer he stood defiant, but knelt low upon his knee,

And cried, 'God, Who helpest all men, I pray Thee have

thought for me!'

Then wroth was the foremost rider as the lad barred his

further way,

And he spake out, 'This stupid _Waleis_ will hinder our work

to-day!'

(Now here would I give to the Waleis the fame we Bavarians

hold; 145

They are duller than e'en our people, yet manly in strife and

bold.

And in sooth were one born in both countries such marvel of

strength and skill

Would he hide in himself that I think me their fame he might

well fulfil!)

Then there rode swift with hanging bridle, in costly harness

dight,

With plumed and jewelled helmet another gallant knight; 150

Swiftly he came as thirsting to challenge in mortal fight

The foe who sped far before him, who had done him a sore

despite;

For two knights from out his kingdom a maiden had borne away,

And he held it a deed most shameful and one he must needs

repay;

For the maiden's sorrow grieved him, and fain would he ease

her pain: 155

(And the three knights who rode before him were part of his

warlike train.)

He rode a Spanish war-horse, and his shield had fierce

conflict seen,

And Karnachkarnanz did they call him (he was Ulterleg's count

I ween).

Then he cried to his knights, 'Why loiter? who barreth our

onward way?'

And straight on the lad did he ride there, who deemed him a

god alway, 160

For ne'er had he seen such glory; his harness shone fair with

dew,

And on either foot the stirrups with golden bells rang true.

And their length was e'en as fitting, and with bells did each

strong arm ring,

As he stirred himself, or his sword-blade in battle aloft

would swing.

And the hero was swift in seeking the guerdon of knightly

prize, 165

So he rode here, the prince, and had decked him in a fair and

wondrous wise.

Then spake this flower of all knighthood, 'Say, boy, did they

pass thy way?

Two knights who have shamed their knighthood, nay, _robbers_

I ween are they,

For they bear a maiden with them, and she rideth against her

will!'

Yet the boy, tho' he spake with a man's tongue, as a god must

account him still; 170

For he thought how Queen Herzeleide had told him that God was

Light

And dwelleth in Light for ever; and so to his dazzled sight

This knight, in his shining armour in the glow of the

summer's day,

Was the God of his mother's lesson, and he knelt him again to

pray.

But the prince he spake full gently, 'Fain am I to do God's

will, 175

And yet for no God I hold me, but a sinful mortal still.

Nay, wert thou more clear of vision, thou wouldst see, an

thou sawest aright,

No Lord of the host of Heaven, but only a humble knight!'

'Knight?' quoth the boy in answer, 'Nay! I wot not what that

may be,

Is thy strength not of God, but of knighthood, then I would

such were given to me!' 180

'Then wend thy way to King Arthur, an thou camest unto his

court,

A noble knight he would make thee, ashamed and afeared for

naught,

For sure, now I look upon thee, thou com'st of a noble

strain.'

Then his knights they turned their bridles, and gazed at the

boy again.

Full well might they look and wonder, at the work that God's

Hand had wrought, 185

For they say, who tell this story, that never could human

thought

Have dreamed of aught so goodly, since ever the world began,

For of all men beloved by women, was there never so fair a

man!

Loud they laughed as the boy spake further, 'Good knight,

what may these be?

These rings that so close around thee, above and below I

see.' 190

Then he handled, with curious finger, the armour the knight

did bear,

His coat of mail close-linkèd as behovèd a knight to wear;

And he spake as he looked on the harness, 'My mother's

maidens string

On their chains, and around their fingers, full many a

shining ring,

But they cling not so close to each other as these rings that

here I see, 195

I cannot force them asunder, what good are they then to

thee?'

Then the prince drew forth from its scabbard his shining

blade so keen,

'Now see, he who fights against me, must withstand my sword I

ween,

And lest he, on his part, should slay me, it is fit that with

mail and shield,

I ward me against his spear-thrusts, and the blows that his

arm may wield.' 200

Swiftly the lad made answer, 'Little good would it do the

deer

An their coats were e'en such as thine is, they would fall

still beneath my spear.'

Full wroth were the knights and scornful that their lord thus

long had talked

With this lad with the face of an angel, and the speech as of

one distraught;

Then the prince he spake full gently, 'God keep thee in His

good grace, 205

I would that my shield's bright mirror might show me as fair

a face!

Nay, an the Giver of all gifts but gave thee wit enow

To match with a mien so goodly, full rich wert thou then I

trow!

May He keep all sorrow from thee, and thy life be a summer's

day--'

And with that he turned his bridle, and wended once more his

way. 210

Then adown the woodland pathway they rode, till they came

full soon

Where the carles of Queen Herzeleide toiled hard thro' the

sultry noon:

The fields must they plough and harrow, if a harvest they

hoped to reap,

So they goaded the patient oxen to their toil on the hillside

steep.

Then the prince he gave them 'Good-morrow,' and asked if

there passed that way 215

A maiden in need and sorrow? and they dared not to say him

nay;

But they answered him e'en as he prayed them, and they spake

'Yea, at early morn

Two knights and a maiden passed here, and the maiden, she

wept forlorn,

And the knights as they rode beside her, spurred ever her

flying steed.'

Then the prince knew his foe, Meljakanz, and his wrath waxed

hot indeed, 220

On his tracks he followed swiftly, and they who this venture

tell,

Say he won back in fight the maiden ere the shadows of

evening fell.

But sore were the queen's folk troubled that the heroes had

chanced that way,

And they spake, 'God forbid that our queen's son fall in with

these knights to-day!

An he chances to light upon them in the pride of their

warlike gear, 225

It will anger full sore our mistress if by hap she the tale

should hear:

And ill-luck will it bring upon us that, ere ever the dawn of

day,

With us while his mother slumbered, to the woods he stole

away!'

Little recked the boy of their trouble as he chased the

flying deer,

And shouted in youthful gladness, as they fell before his

spear 230

Then homeward he sped to his mother, but ere he his tale

might tell

She was smitten with deadly terror, and low at his feet she

fell.

Then soon as Queen Herzeleide found hearing and speech once

more

Her boy was she fain to question tho' her heart it misgave

her sore;

'Who spake to thee, son, of knighthood? What knowest thou of

such-like rede?' 235

'I met in the woods, sweet mother, four men I deemed gods

indeed,

So light were they all and shining, God Himself ne'er could

brighter be,

And of knighthood they spake and King Arthur, who might well

make a knight of me!'

Then her sorrow of old-time wakened, and the queen in her

heart she sought

For some cunning wile of woman, that her boy from his will be

brought. 240

When the simple lad and gallant would crave from her hand a

steed,

Tho' heavy her heart, she bethought her in naught to gainsay

his need,

'Yet not as he asks will I give him, no mother's gifts be

mine,

But ever the worst and the meanest that my skill may aye

divine.'

And she thought her, Queen Herzeleide, 'Many folk thro' the

world shall fare 245

Who love mocking--On his fair body my son shall a Fool's

dress wear,

Then sure when the mockers see him, and to scoff at his garb

are fain,

An he at their hands be smitten, then he cometh to me again!'

Alas! for a woman's cunning, and the cruelty of mother's

love,

She chose from her stores a sackcloth, the coarsest that

might be wove, 250

And a garment of this she made him that should reach e'en

unto his knee;

For his sunny hair such covering as on fools men are wont to

see;

And instead of hose she bound him on his limbs so strong and

fair

Leggings of undressed calf-skin--And all wept who beheld him

there.

Then his mother with forethought bade him to tarry till

morning light, 255

'Nor from hence would I have thee journey till my rede thou

hast heard aright--

_'Keep thou ever from paths untrodden and ford not the

darkling stream,

Where the waters flow clear and limpid, there safe is the

ford I ween.

And be ever fair and courteous, greet all men who pass thy

way.

If a wise man old and grey-headed would teach thee, as well

he may,_ 260

_All courteous ways and fitting, as his word so shall be thy

deed,

Nor wax wroth if by whiles he chide thee, but give to my

words good heed.

And one thing, my son, would I tell thee, canst thou win from

a maid her ring

And her greeting fair, thou shalt take them, and sorrow hath

lost her sting!

If a kiss from her lips she will give thee, and thine arms

shall the maid enfold,_ 265

_Be she pure and true thou art blessèd, and thy strength

shall wax high and bold!'_

'And hearken my son, a proud knight, Lähelein, do men call

his name,

From thy princes two lands hath wrested, else from them

couldst thou tribute claim.

And Waleis they are and Norgals--and one of thy princes

brave,

Turkentals, hath he slain, and thy people he hath smitten and

doth enslave.' 270

'For such wrong will I vengeance, mother, if vengeance be

here God's will,

Be he never so strong with my javelin I think me to wound him

still.'

Then e'en at the daylight's dawning the boy would no longer

stay,

For the thought of King Arthur's glory yet heavy upon him

lay.

Then Queen Herzeleide kissed him, and she sped swift his

steed behind, 275

And the sorrow of sorrows smote her when her boy she no more

might find.

(Hence he rode and what heart rejoiceth?) Then the queen from

all falsehood free,

Fell low on the earth, and grief tare her till death must her

portion be!

Yet I wot that her death so faithful it hath saved her from

pains of Hell,

And to be of such son the mother, it repayeth all anguish

well! 280

Thus she, the root of all goodness whence humility's flower

might blow,

Herself on a pilgrimage wended that a goodly goal should

know.

Woe worth us! that none of their children should live still,

to hand us down

In these days when we look on falsehood their honour and fair

renown.

And therefore shall faithful women wish well to this lad so

bold, 285

Who rideth fair ventures seeking, whose journey ye now

behold!

Then the gallant lad rode onward on his way toward

Briziljan's wood,

And he came to a rippling streamlet, and a cock well might

wade that flood!

And flowers in the grass were blooming, yet so darkling ran

the wave

That the lad he thought not to ford it; but as wit the

counsel gave, 290

So he followed its course thro' the daylight, and he passed

as he could the night,

Till he saw once more the morning, and he came to a fair ford

bright.

On the further side was a meadow, and a tent decked the grass

so green,

And tall was the tent wide-spreading, and riches thereon were

seen;

'Twas of samite of threefold colours, on the seams lay fair

ribbons wide, 295

And a leathern covering hung there, 'gainst the rain-cloud to

guard its pride.

('Twas Duke Orilus of Lalande, whose wife he beneath it

found--

She lay there in peaceful slumber with riches happed fair

around,

A Duchess she was, well worthy the love of a gallant knight,

And the venture it tells that Jeschuté was the name of that

lady bright) 300

Softly the princess slumbered,--yet weapons of love she bore;

A mouth so red and glowing, that a knight's heart had wounded

sore,

And e'en as she slept they parted asunder, her lips so

bright,

That the fire of love had kindled, (fit venture for gallant

knight)

And even as ivory snow-white, and little, and close the row 305

Of the teeth that gleamed white betwixt them--methinks that a

man were slow

To use himself to such kisses from a mouth that all men might

praise--

I wot that so fair a guerdon but seldom hath crowned my days!

A covering of richest sable over foot and knee was thrown,

(For the heat she aside hath cast it, whom her lord had thus

left alone) 310

And her form it was fairly fashioned, and wrought by a

skilful hand,

Since 'twas God Himself in His wisdom who so fair a work had

planned.

And long was her arm and rounded: on her snow-white hand a

ring

Gleamed golden, and when he saw it the lad to her side did

spring;

For had not his mother told him such jewels were the guerdon

fair 315

That a knight well might crave? and he thought him he fain

would such token bear!

Then the lady awoke in terror as his clasp on her white arm

fell,

And gazed in startled wonder and wrath as beseemed her well;

'Who is it, who thus would shame me? Nay, sir, thou art all

too free!

Go, choose thee some fairer maiden, my favours are not for

thee!' 320

In vain might she weep and bewail her; he asked not her yea,

or nay,

But took from her lips unwilling the kiss she would fain

gainsay;

And the ring of gold from her finger with ungentle hand he'ld

take,

And the clasp that her shift had fastened from the garment he

roughly brake:

In vain were her tears and struggles, she was but a woman

still, 325

And his strength was to hers as an army, perforce must she do

his will.

Then the lad spake aloud, he hungered, from his hand was the

lady free,

And she quoth, 'Of a truth 'twere better thou shouldst not

make meal of me!

If thou wert but a little wiser thou wouldst choose thee some

other meat,

There stand bread and wine, and two game-birds, of them mayst

thou freely eat, 330

Methinks when my maiden brought them, 'twas scarcely of thee

she thought!'

Then he asked not where sat the hostess, but he ate e'en as

hunger taught,

And he drank his fill; and the lady she deemed all too long

his stay,

For she thought him bereft of his senses, and she wished he

were well away,

And for fear and shame the sweat-drops stood thickly upon her

brow-- 335

And she spake, 'Thou my ring shalt give me, and the clasp

thou didst take but now,

And get thee away, if he cometh, my husband, then shalt thou

bear

The weight of his wrath, and I think me thou wouldst then

wish thyself elsewhere!'

Quoth the noble youth, 'What care I how fierce thy lord's

wrath may be?

If my presence doth shame thine honour, then from hence will

I swiftly flee.' 340

And he stepped to the bedside boldly, and kissed her as there

she lay,

Tho' little it pleased the Duchess, and without leave he rode

away;

And he spake a word of parting as he vaulted upon his steed,

'God have thee in His safe keeping, so my mother she gave me

rede.'

Then the lad he was glad of his booty, and thus did he ride a

while-- 345

Methinks there was little lacking that from hence he had gone

a mile,

Ere he came of whom I would tell you: on the dew he the

tracks might see

Of one who had sought his lady--The tent-ropes displaced

should be

Where the lad thro' the grass had ridden; then the gallant

Duke and proud

Found his lady within in sorrow, and Orilus spake aloud, 350

'Alas! for the service done thee--for smitten and put to

shame

Is the crown of my knightly honour, since another thy love

can claim!'

Then little, alas! might it profit that with streaming eyes

she swore

No lover had she save her husband,--he would hearken her tale

no more.

Then she spake in her fear and anguish, 'Twas a _fool_, he

who came to me, 355

And yet tho' a fool, of all men I wot he may fairest be!

My ring and my clasp gold-gleaming, he took them against my

will!'

'Nay, I doubt not so well he pleased thee, thou didst grant

him more favours still,'

'Now, God forbid! for his fool's garb and his javelin were

e'en too near,

It shameth us both, my husband, such words from thy lips to

hear! 360

Are _queens_ wont to love thus lowly, that thou speakest such

words of me?

Thou wrongest our royal breeding, when thou deemest such

things may be!'

Then the Duke spake, 'This shame, O lady! alone hast thou won

from me,

Thou dost call thyself _Queen_ no longer; tho' thy title

shall _Duchess_ be

Little good hath that bargain brought me--So bold shall my

manhood be, 365

That thy brother, King Lac's son Erec, for that cause beareth

hate to thee:

He is wise, and right well he knoweth that my fame so high

shall stand

That nothing shall stain mine honour, save at Prurein when

his right hand

In knightly joust once felled me, but that have I paid right

well,

In a joust at Karnant I smote him, and behind his steed he

fell, 370

And his pledge did he yield unto me,--thro' his shield I thy

token bare,

I thought not, my wife Jeschuté, with _another_ thy love to

share!'

'Thou mayst also well assure thee that the son of King

Gandein,

Proud Galoes, once lay lifeless before this arm of mine;

And thou thyself wast witness when the Knight Plihopleheri 375

Rode swift in a joust against me, nor his strife it hath

passed me by,

My spear from the saddle thrust him that his charger he sat

no more;

Yea, great was the fame that I won me by my prowess in days

of yore,

Many knights have I borne from their chargers,--yet it

profiteth not I ween,

Nor outweigheth the bitter shaming that thro' thee hath my

portion been!' 380

And with reason good do they hate me, those knights of the

Table Round,

Since eight of their bravest champions have I borne unto the

ground,

And many fair maidens saw it, when at Kanedig fierce we

fought

For the hawk; there was I the victor, and my hand fame to

thee hath brought

And that didst thou see with King Arthur--At his court doth

she dwell to-day, 385

My sister, sweet Kunnewaaré, and grave is her mien alway,

For her lips may not move to laughter till the day that her

eyes shall light

On him who of all shall be reckoned the fairest and bravest

knight.

Would he come unto me, that hero! Ah! then should a strife be

seen

As to-day in the early morning already my lot hath been. 390

I have fought, and a prince hath suffered, for joust he

toward me sped,

But my spear-point so sorely smote him that he lay there

before me, dead!'

'Well I know that in righteous anger for a lesser sin than

thine

Full many had slain the sinner, but I would not such deed

were mine!

For the service of knightly honour that to thee I had offered

fair, 395

Henceforth shalt thou know but lacking; nor thy need do I

think to spare--

No more with thy white arms circled in love and in peace I'll

lie,

Those golden days of love's glory have faded and passed us

by,

But pale be thy mouth so rosy, and tear-dimmed thy shining

eyes,

For joy shall be put far from thee, and thy heart's songs be

turned to sighs!' 400

Then sadly she looked upon him, that princess so fair and

true,

'May it be for the honour of knighthood what seemeth thee

best to do,

Wise art thou indeed and loyal, and I in thy power may be,

And I know well that heavy sorrow and pain thou canst bring

on me:

To the ordeal, I prithee, put me, and do this for all women's

sake, 405

Thereafter, an I be guilty, for my sin do thou vengeance

take!

If another's hand shall slay me, (for _thee_ were such deed

un-meet)

Then gladly I'll die--Dost thou scorn me? then welcome is

death, and sweet!'

Then he broke out in bitter anger, 'If thy pride be still so

great,

It is meet I should meekness teach thee, tho' the lesson be

all too late-- 410

No more shall we be companions, together no more we'll eat;

Be our marriage couch forgotten and the hours of communion

sweet.

This garment in which I found thee thy only robe shall be,

And instead of jewelled bridle hempen twist will I give to

thee;

Thy steed be the guest of hunger, and thy saddle once decked

so fair 415

Shall be robbed of its goodly trappings!' and with hasty hand

he tare

The samite adown, and he brake it, the saddle she rode

erewhile,

(Nor her gentle ways and seemly might his angry wrath

beguile)

With a hempen cord he bound it--Too soon had she won his

hate!

As he did this he spake, 'Now Lady, 'tis best we no longer

wait, 420

Could I reach him who shared thy favours, then fulfilled were

my heart's desire,

The venture I'ld face, though as dragon he were breathing

forth flames and fire!'

Then with weeping instead of laughter she passed from out the

tent

That lady so rich in sorrow, and sadly her way she went;

Yet more than she mourned her shaming she wept her lord's

grief, I ween, 425

His sorrow so sorely moved her, e'en death would have lighter

been.

Now of true heart shall ye bemoan her who thus did sore

anguish know,

And tho' hatred I won from all women, still I'ld mourn for

Jeschuté's woe!

So rode they upon the traces of the lad who before them fled,

And, dauntless, he little thought him how a foeman behind him

sped, 430

But whoever his eyes might light on, as his pathway they drew

anear,

He gave to him kindly greeting, 'Thus bade me my mother

dear!'

Thus rode he, our lad so foolish, adown a mountain side,

When a woman's voice before him from amid the rocks loud

cried;

'Twas a cry of heartfelt sorrow, for her joy was in ruins

laid-- 435

Then swift rode the lad towards her,--Now hear what she did,

this maid:

She tore, the maid Siguné, her plaits of long brown hair

From out her head thro' sorrow; and the lad he beheld her

there,

And he saw Schionatulander, the prince, on her knee lie dead,

And the maiden she wailed above him, and her joy had for ever

fled. 440

('If sad be their mien or joyful, my mother she bade me still

Greet all men, whoe'er might meet me) God keep thee from

greater ill,

For in sooth a sorry treasure have I found on thy knee

to-day!

Who hath wounded this knight?' (For an answer the lad he

would press alway)

'Did one with a javelin slay him? For Lady, he sure is dead; 445

Wilt thou tell me naught? Who hath slain him? If he none too

far hath fled

Methinks I might overtake him, for gladly with him I'ld

fight!'

Then the lad he laid hold on his quiver wherein lay the

javelins bright,

And still in his hand tight claspèd, the tokens twain he bore

Which he in his thoughtless folly erewhile from Jeschuté

tore. 450

Had he known the courtly customs with his father's life

in-bound,

His shield were better smitten when the duchess alone he

found

Who thro' him must suffer sorrow--for more than a whole year

long,

Her husband withheld his favour, tho' in sooth did he do her

wrong.

Now list to this maid Siguné who her grief would bemoan as

meet, 455

She spake to the lad, 'Thou art courteous, all hail! to thy

youth so sweet,

And thy face so fair; yea blessèd thy lot shall hereafter be!

No javelin pierced this hero, but slain in a joust was he--

From truth wast thou born who truly for another's woe can

grieve!'

Then his name she was fain to hearken, ere the lad her side

might leave, 460

And she spake, God with skill had wrought him--But his answer

was naught but this,

'At home all who know me call me '_Bon fils, Cher fils, Beau

fils!_'

Ere ever the word was spoken, the maiden she knew his name--

Now hearken aright his title, that hereafter ye own his fame

Who is hero of this my venture, who now standeth the maid

beside-- 465

And her red lips they spake unfaltering, 'Thou art

_Parzival_,' she cried,

And thy name it shall mean '_to pierce thro_',' for thy

mother's faithful heart

With furrow of grief was riven when she from her lord must

part:

And I speak not that those shouldst vaunt thee; thy mother my

aunt shall be,

And in truth, with no guile of falsehood, thy race will I

tell to thee!' 470

'An Angevin was thy father, thy mother of fair Waleis,

And I know for a truth thy birthplace was the city of

Kanvoleis;

And thou art the King of Norgals, and there in the citadel

As king shalt thou bear the sceptre and crown as beseems thee

well.

For thy sake was he slain, this hero, who thy kingdom for

thee would guard, 475

His truth it hath faltered never, tho' in death did he find

reward.

Two brothers have wrought thee evil, two kingdoms from thee

have reft,

And Orilus this thy kinsman in a joust hath lifeless left.

And me too hath he left in sorrow--He served me nor thought

it shame,

This prince of thy land, where my childhood did thy mother's

tending claim. 480

Now fair and sweet my cousin wouldst thou hear how he met his

end?

'Twas the fair wove leash of a brachet that brought sorrow

unto my friend--

He hath served us twain, in our service hath he won him but

death alone,

And I, I have won but sorrow, and henceforth for his death

make moan,

For scant of wit was I surely, that I gave not my love

afore-- 485

So God hath my gladness shattered, and the dead I love

evermore!'

Then he spake, 'I must mourn, O cousin, thy grief, and my

bitter wrong,

Of a truth till I may avenge them the time seemeth

over-long!'

Then straight would he ride to battle, but the way did she

falsely show,

For she feared were he slain then henceforward yet sorer

should wax her woe. 490

But a road he found that led him straightway to the Breton's

land,

And smooth and wide was that highway--An there met him on

either hand

Afoot or ahorse a merchant or knight, he would greet them

still,

For so was his mother's counsel; and she spake with no

thought of ill.

But great weariness o'ertook him, as darkened the eventide, 495

And a house that was none too stately the youth in his folly

spied.

'Twas a churl he who sat within it, discourteous by birth and

low,

(A fisherman he, little kindness might one at his hand e'er

know)

Then the lad drew rein for he hungered, and craved of him

drink and meat.

But the host quoth, 'Nay, not a half-loaf shalt thou have at

mine hand to eat 500

In thirty years; he who waiteth, in the gifts of mine hand to

share,

O'er-long shall delay his journey--For none but myself I

care,

Thereafter perchance for my children--Thou comest not here

to-day,

Hadst thou money or pledge 'twere other, then thine host

would I be straightway!' 505

Then Jeschuté's clasp all golden the lad he would bid him

take,

And soon as the peasant saw it, with smiling mouth he spake,

'Wilt thou stay here, sweet lad? then due honour be thy

portion from all within--'

'Wilt thou feed me to-night and to-morrow wilt help me the

way to win

To King Arthur (for well I love him) then thyself mayst keep

the gold!' 510

'Yea, that will I do,' quoth the peasant, 'for ne'er might

mine eyes behold

A face and form so comely--I will thee, as a marvel, bring

To the court, and the good Round Table, and the face of the

noble king!'

So the lad thro' the night abode there, and ere ever the dawn

of day

He roused himself full eager to get on his onward way, 515

And the fisher, he made him ready, and before the lad he ran,

And the boy he rode behind him, and swift were both steed and

man.

(Herr Hartmann von Aue, and thy lady, the queenly Guinevere,

And thy gallant lord, King Arthur, a guest do I bring ye

here;

No tool is he for your mocking, nay, never a harp or lute, 520

Ye shall choose ye some other plaything, such as courtesy

well doth suit;

Else will I thy lady Enid, and her mother Karnafite

Pass under the mill, and their honour with bitter scorn I'll

smite--

Tho' I tune my song to mocking, and thy lips with mockery

seal,

Yet here will I guard my hero lest thy scorn he perchance

should feel!) 525

When the lad with his guide so humble to the city walls drew

near,

And Nantes might be well discernèd in the morning light so

clear,

'God keep thee, boy,' said the fisher, 'thou seest where thou

must ride.'

Quoth the lad yet scant in knowledge, 'Yet nearer must thou

be guide!'

'Nay, nay, so proud as these court-folk, such folly be far

from me, 530

An' a peasant came nigh unto them, his welcome would sorry

be!'

So alone the lad rode onward o'er a plain that was none too

wide,

And the flowers stood fair around him and blossomed on every

side,

No Kurwenal was his teacher and of courtesy knew he naught--

They know it not, the untravelled, till the world hath wisdom

taught-- 535

Of hempen twist his bridle, and feeble and faint his steed,

And oft it fell, as stumbling it went o'er the flowery mead.

And nowhere upon his saddle fair leather and new was seen;

And of samite fair and ermine full great his lack had been.

No mantle clasp he needed, nor knightly garb he wore, 540

Of blazoned coat or surcoat; his javelin alone he bore.

He whose deeds were praised of all men, his father so brave

and wise,

Was robed in far other fashion on the carpet 'fore Kanvoleis!

He who ne'er felt the sweat of terror, to him did a knight

draw near;

Then he greeted him, 'May God keep thee! thus bade me my

mother dear.' 545

'God reward thee, lad, and thy mother,' swift answer the

knight would bring,

(Uther Pendragon reared him, he was cousin unto the king,

And unto the land of Bretagne did the self-same knight lay

claim)

He was Ither of Gaheviess, 'The Red Knight' they called his

name.

All dazzling red was his armour, the eye from its glow

gleamed red; 550

Red was his horse swift-footed, and the plumes that should

deck its head,

Of samite red its covering; redder than flame his shield;

Fair-fashioned and red his surcoat; and the spear that his

hand would wield

Was red, yea, the shaft and the iron; and red at the knight's

desire

Was his sword, yet the blade's fair keenness was not dimmed

by the raging fire. 555

And the King of Cumberland, stately, in his mailèd hand did

hold

A goblet, with skill engraven, and wrought of the good red

gold--

From the Table Round had he reft it--All red was his shining

hair

Yet white was his skin, and kindly his speech to the lad and

fair.

'Now hail to thy fair young body, that in sooth a true woman

bare, 560

Yea, blessèd is she thy mother! Ne'er saw I a face so fair,

And the light of thine eyes, I think me, is kindled by love

alone,

And Love shall in thee be victor, as by thee Love is

overthrown!

And in thee is the joy of woman, whose bliss finds in thee

its goal,

And for thee shall the load of sorrow weigh heavy upon the

soul-- 565

Now do me this grace I pray thee, an thou wend thee unto the

town

Bear greeting from me to King Arthur, and his heroes of high

renown,

And say that no fleeting vision am I who now speak with thee,

But here I abide, and await him who thinketh to joust with

me!'

'And never a man will wonder: to the Table Round I came 570

And there, in the heroes' presence to my kingdom would I lay

claim,

And with hasty hand I raised it, this cup, and the wine

out-poured

The robes of the queen besprinkled, as she sat there beside

her lord.

This I did as the custom olden of one who would claim his

right

For better I thought the wine-cup, than the straw-wisp all

alight, 575

For its smoke perchance had soiled me, thus I chose it not'

spake the king,

'Nor for robbery rode I hither, my crown doth forbid such

thing--

Say thou to the queen that the wine-drops, they fell on her

'gainst my will

Where those heroes sit, nor remember, nor their knighthood as

meet fulfil.

Whether kings they shall be or princes o'er-long doth he

thirst their king! 580

This cup, why delay to fetch it? Their fame it hath taken

wing!'

Then the lad spake, 'I'll bear thy message, yea, e'en as thou

biddest me.'

And then unto Nantes fair city he gat him right speedily,

And many a youth they followed to the court of the palace

fair,

And 'twas filled with a motley gathering, and they thronged

him and pressed him there. 585

Then Iwanet sprang from out them, and this youth from

falsehood free

He gave him a kindly greeting, and he proffered him company.

And the lad he quoth, 'God keep thee, (so my mother she bade

me speak

Ere yet from home I wended) King Arthur I fain would seek

But here see I full many an Arthur! Who of all these shall

make me knight?' 590

Then Iwanet laughed loud 'I will show thee, not yet hast thou

seen the right!'

To the Table Round he led him where sat the heroes all

And as best he could for the tumult cried the lad thro' the

lofty hall,

'God keep ye all ye heroes! I greet ye both queen and king,

For thus did my mother bid me fair greeting to ye to bring. 595

And all who have won by their valour at the Table Round a

seat

Ye gallant knights and heroes, ye too did she bid me greet!

But in one thing my skill doth fail me, who is host here I

may not know;

To him do I bear a message from a knight who all red doth

glow,

He waiteth without the portal (methinks he is fain to fight) 600

That he spilt o'er the queen the wine-cup that sorely doth

grieve the knight--

Ah! if I his gear so goodly from the king's hand as gift

might take,

In sooth were I rich in gladness--so knightly and fair its

make!'

Thus spake the youth gay and careless, and the courtiers they

thronged around

And hither and thither pressed him till scarce might he stand

his ground: 605

And well did they look upon him, for each for himself might

see

That never in man or maiden might the fruit of love fairer

be.

And in truth it was no ill working that in Parzival God had

wrought,

In whom never a sight of terror had wakened of fear a

thought.

Thus they brought him before King Arthur, he whom God for a

wonder chose, 610

And no man might bear him hatred--Then the queen from her

seat arose

And she gazed for a space upon him ere she passed from out

the hall

Where the wine from the golden goblet perforce on her robes

must fall.

Then Arthur he looked upon him--To the simple youth he spake,

'Now lad to thy kindly greeting a kindly answer take, 615

For this would I do thee service, yea with body alike and

land;

This I speak of a true heart truly, so my will doth toward

thee stand!'

'Would to God that were true! Now I think me it well-nigh a

year shall be

That I fain would be knight, lacking knighthood all else

seemeth ill to me!

Now make thou no more delaying, be knighthood my lot

straightway.' 620

Quoth the king, 'I were fain to do so if worth fail me not

alway,

So noble art thou to look on; and goodly gifts and rare

Would I give thee; to do thee service I'll naught of my

treasure spare.

Yea, loath had I been to refuse thee, wait but for

to-morrow's light,

And I myself will dower thee with all that befits a knight.' 625

The lad like a bird new cagèd, he shook himself to and fro,

And he quoth, 'For naught do I ask thee! But that knight who

as fire doth glow

If thou givest me not his armour no gift will I take from

thee,

My _mother_ will not withhold it--For a queen shall she

surely be.'

Then Arthur he quoth, 'That armour so gallant a knight doth

wear 630

That to give thee a gift so goodly methinks I may hardly

dare.

And guiltless I live in sorrow since his homage I must

forego,

Ither he is of Gaheviess; thro' my joy hath he wrought me

woe.'

'Now my King sure it were ungracious to say to his pleading

nay,

Thou shalt give him what he desireth, nor think it too

great,' quoth Kay, 635

'Let him forth to the plain; bid him bring thee the cup if it

be thy will!

Here hast thou the whip, there the top is, let the child have

of sport his fill.

The women, forsooth, will praise him, and it seemeth good to

me

He should learn to take blows an he gives them, many such

will his portion be.

For the life of the twain what care I? Each of us needs must

have his day, 640

If thy dogs for the spoil shall hunger, thou must e'en give

thy dogs their way.'

'I were loath to refuse his pleading, yet I feared lest he

here be slain,

And to knighthood I fain had helped him.' Thus Arthur he

spake again.

Thus the lad won the gift he craved for, which many perforce

must rue,

And young and old they followed, as forth from the hall he

flew. 645

By the hand would Iwanet lead him, 'fore a bower that was

none too high,

And backward and forward turning the lad gazed with eager

eye.

And the bower was so low that within it the lad he both heard

and saw,

And therefrom did he win a sorrow that vexed him with torment

sore.

The queen from her bower window to look on the sight was

fain, 650

And her knights and maidens round her they gazed and they

gazed again.

And the maiden Kunnewaaré she sat there, the fair and proud,

And never, that man might wot of, had she laughed or low or

loud.

For never she vowed, an she died first, would she laugh ere

her eyes might see

That knight, who of knights the bravest or was, or henceforth

should be. 655

As the lad rode beneath the window she brake into laughter

sweet,

And her back was sore from the guerdon--reward for a maid

unmeet!

For Kay the Seneschal seized her, the maiden of fair Lalande,

By her waving hair, and the tresses he wound fast around his

hand,

Without a band he bound her--Tho' never an oath she sware 660

His staff he laid unknightly on her maiden shoulders fair,

And ere ever the sound of the smiting on the ear had died

away

Thro' white skin and royal raiment had he wounded the maid

that day.

And thus did he speak in his folly, 'Now hast thou thine own

fair fame

Cast aside, and I wot thou hast done it to thine own mending

shame! 665

Now see, e'en in flight have I caught it, and I bring it to

thee once more

In such wise thou mayst well remember, and be e'en in the

memory sore:

For I wot well unto King Arthur, to his court and his palace

hall

Many gallant men have ridden, yet hast thou despised them

all,

And ne'er hast thou smiled upon them--And now doth thy

laughter ring 670

For one knowing naught of knighthood! Unseemly I deem this

thing!'

Now whate'er might be done in anger I wot well no king's

decree

Had bid him thus smite the maiden; and her friends mourned

her bitterly.

(Might she bear knightly shield and armour it had helped not

this sore disgrace,

Discourteous the blows were smitten.) She came of a royal

race, 675

Had her gallant brothers seen it, Lähelein and Orilus

Far fewer blows had fallen; she ne'er had been smitten thus.

Now Sir Antanor the Silent, who thro' silence a fool was

thought,

(His speech and the maiden's laughter on a self-same thread

were wrought)

For never a word would he utter till she laughed whom Kay

thus did smite, 680

As clear rang the maiden's laughter, aloud spake the silent

knight,

'Now here before God I tell thee, Kunnewaaré of fair Lalande

Thou hast wronged for that lad, and thy guerdon awaiteth thee

at his hand,

Nor so weak shall he be, nor so foolish, but he turneth thy

bliss to bale!'

'And thy speech thou hast found but to threaten for joy shall

it naught avail.' 685

His food would he make full bitter.--Kay smote him upon the

ear

With his fist till naught but a singing and a whispering

might he hear.

And Parzival saw the sorrow of the maiden and Antanor,

And his heart was hot for their shaming, and grief for their

sake he bore,

And he grasped his javelin tightly, but the throng pressed so

close around 690

That perforce the dart must he lower, lest some other aim it

found.

Thus alone from the court of King Arthur rode the son of

Gamuret,

And he came to the plain where the Red Knight his foeman

awaited yet;

And he bare unto him the tidings how in Nantes was there

never a knight

Whose heart yet yearned for jousting, or who lusted with him

to fight. 695

'But a gift King Arthur gave me--I spake as thou saidst

before,

That without thy will had it chanced thee the wine o'er the

queen to pour,

Thy discourtesy sorely vexed thee--They think not to fight

with thee.

Now give me the steed thou ridest, and thine harness give

thou to me,

They were given me in the palace, therein shall I be a

knight, 700

Wouldst withhold them, I will not greet thee--Yield thou what

is mine of right!'

Then the King of Cumberland answered, 'If Arthur hath given

to thee

Mine armour, my _life_ he gave thee, if that life thou canst

take from me,

So well doth he love his kinsmen! Hath he known thee before

to-day,

That so swiftly the service done him with such guerdon he

would repay?' 705

'I may win what I will I trow me, of a sooth had he given me

more;

Now leave thou thy claim on his kingdom--'Tis time I a

knight's shield bore

For _squire_ will I be no longer!' He laid on the rein his

hand

'Thou art Lähelein, so I think me, who hath taken from me my

land!'

Then the knight he turned his spear-shaft, and he struck with

so true a blow 710

That the lad and his sorry charger on the meadow he laid them

low,

And the hero was swift in his anger, and he smote with a will

so good

That there where the spear-shaft struck him there sprang

forth bright drops of blood.

Then Parzival sprang up swiftly and stood wrathful upon his

feet

And he grasped his javelin firmly--Where the helm and the

visor meet 715

And betwixt the twain is an opening, there the javelin

swiftly sped

And thro' eye and neck it struck him, and the knight on the

plain lay dead.

Fierce foe had he been to falsehood; women's sighs, true

hearts wounded sore,

Were the fruit of his death, and with tear-drops must many an

eye run o'er.

And they whom his love made joyful their gladness asunder

brake, 720

And their joy to the goal of sorrow o'er a rough road its way

must take.

Then Parzival in his folly turned the dead knight o'er and

o'er,

For fain would he loose his armour, yet was lacking the

needful lore.

He fingered both helm and corslet with his bare white hands

alone,

Yet the fastening he failed to loosen, nor with force might

they be undone 725

Tho' oft and again he tried them, who in wisdom was all

untaught.

Then the horses they neighed so loudly that the sound on the

breeze was brought

To Iwanet's ear, and he heard them, by the city moat he

stood,

(To Queen Guinevere was he kinsman, and he did to her service

good)

He heard the cry of the horses, but naught of the riders saw, 730

As his true heart would give him counsel, Parzival did he

seek once more.

And Ither lay dead; and his slayer by his folly was vexed

amain--

Then swiftly he sprang to aid him, and Parzival thanks must

gain

For the honour he here had won him o'er the hero of

Cumberland:

'God reward thee, but give me counsel for skill here doth

fail mine hand, 735

How best may I loose this armour which myself I were fain to

wear?'

'Such lore I right well may teach thee,' quoth Iwanet the

proud and fair,

So the armour was reft from the dead man, 'fore Nantes on the

grassy plain,

And they did it upon the living, o'er whose dealings did

folly reign.

Quoth Iwanet, 'These leather leggings fit not with the mailèd

gear, 740

As a _knight_ shalt thou now be clothèd,' and the lad deemed

it ill to hear;

Quoth Parzival, 'What my mother aforetime hath given me

That cometh not from my body, or for good or for ill it be!'

And much did Iwanet marvel, for clever was he i' troth,

Yet he followed perforce his bidding, nor waxed at his folly

wroth. 745

And he drew above the leggings the hosen of shining mail,

Nor the spurs with red gold in-wroughten should unto the

harness fail,

And of silk and gold the laces, nor leather might there be

found.

Ere he gave unto him the corslet he bound him with greaves

around,

And tho' o'er-long Parzival deemed it yet the time was

swiftly sped, 750

Ere in knightly armour shining he clad him from foot to head.

Then the lad would have ta'en his quiver, but Iwanet he spake

out free,

'Nay, no javelin will I give thee, unknightly such arms shall

be!'

Then he girt the sharp sword around him, and he showed how to

draw the blade,

And he bade him ne'er fly in battle, nor in conflict to be

dismayed. 755

Then nearer he led unto him the charger the dead knight rode,

And 'twas tall and strong, yet the saddle the youth with one

spring bestrode,

He recked not the weight of his armour, and of stirrups had

little need--

E'en to-day do men speak of his swiftness, and the fame of

his mighty deeds.

Nor o'er-much did Iwanet think it to teach him with fitting

skill 760

To hold his shield and to guard him, while he wrought to his

foeman ill;

And a spear in his hand he gave him--But Parzival turned

aside,

'Nay, nay, what good may that do me?' 'If a joust one with

thee would ride

Thou shalt on thy foeman break it, perchance drive it thro'

his shield,

If thou doest that oft, 'fore the maidens will they praise

thee for well-fought field.' 765

And this hath the venture told me,--Not in Maestricht, or

e'en Cologne

Might a painter so fair a picture as this lad and his steed

have shown.

Then straightway he spake to Iwanet, 'My friend and companion

dear,

The boon that I asked have I won me, of that art thou witness

here.

My service bear thou to the city, to Arthur the noble king, 770

And mourn unto him my shaming--This cup thou again shalt

bring,

And tell him a knight hath wronged me, since he smote that

maiden fair

Who looked, and who laughed upon me, and grief for her grief

I bear.

Nor hath it but lightly touched me, it hath pierced to my

inmost heart

This maid's woe all undeservèd--Now do thou in her shame have

part 775

Thro' the friendship that thou hast shown me! God keep thee

in peace alway,

And watch o'er us twain, for I think me no longer I here may

stay!'

And Ither the prince of Gaheviess on the plain had he

lifeless left,

E'en in death was he fair to look on who was thus of fair

life bereft.

If in joust by a spear-thrust pierced he thro' knighthood his

death must gain 780

Who had mourned for the grief and the marvel? By a javelin he

here was slain.

Then Iwanet he strewed above him a covering of blossoms

bright,

And he smote the shaft of the javelin in the ground by the

fallen knight,

And that lad so true and faithful, he pierced with the

crimson blade

A bough of wood, and in this wise a cross o'er the dead man

made. 785

Then he gat him again to the city, and the heavy tidings

told;

And from many a trembling woman, and from many a hero bold

Rose the wail of love and of sorrow; and the dead would they

fetch in state,

And the Host they bare before her, as the queen passed the

city gate.

Then o'er Cumberland's prince and hero, who by Parzival's

hand was slain, 790

Queen Guinevere spake in sorrow while her tear-drops they

flowed amain,

'Alas! alas! for broken in twain is King Arthur's might,

For he whom the good Round Table accounted its bravest knight

Here slain before Nantes he lieth! His heritage did he claim

Where men gave him death for his guerdon--For naught marred

his knightly fame; 795

Here long hath he dwelt among us in such wise that never an

ear

The tale of a deed unknightly, or wrong he had done, might

hear.

He held him afar from falsehood, to guile was he aye a foe;

The lock and the seal of knighthood all too soon must we bury

low.

His heart wise in courteous wisdom, and steadfast as seal and

sign, 800

Taught him ever the fairest counsel that a man's heart might

aye divine,

Whereby with true love and courage a man woman's love may woo

And show manhood's truth--Fruit-bearing it seedeth itself

anew

The plant of all woman's sorrow! From thy wounds grief shall

ever grow--

So red was thy hair that the blossoms that bloom here thy

corse below 805

Scarce redder may be with thy life-blood--All laughter hast

thou forbid

To fair women, and joy and gladness by thy death are for ever

hid.'

Thus Ither, beloved of all men, as a king in the grave was

laid,--

With his life must he pay for his armour who taught sighing

to many a maid,

Since Parzival in his folly for the harness his death had

sought, 810

Hereafter, when he won wisdom, he scarcely such deed had

wrought!

NOW this might ye mark in the charger, great labour it held

as naught,

Were it hot, were it cold, no journey the sweat on its coat

had brought;

It sped over stone or tree-trunk, and scarce was there need

to draw

The girth by one hole the tighter if the knight for two days

it bore. 815

So fully armed, in his folly yet further he rode that day

Than a wise man unarmed in two days if his steed he betimes

would stay.

And ever it onward galloped, and but seldom would walk or

trot,

How to check its speed by the bridle as yet Parzival knew

not.

Then he saw the roof of a castle rise fair in the evening

glow, 820

And the lad he thought in his folly that the towers from the

earth must grow

Since the one roof bare so many--And he thought Arthur sowed

such seed,

And he who could work such marvels were a holy man indeed!

Then he said, 'While at home I tarried ne'er looked I on

woodland field

That a crop so rich and so stately in growth might ever

yield; 825

I think me my mother's people their labour but little know,

For never too dry, I think me, is the soil where their seed

they sow!'--

Now Gurnemanz of Graharz of this mighty Burg was lord:

At his portal a spreading linden stood fair on the summer

sward,

Nor too long nor too wide was the meadow, and the horse and

the road they led 830

To where Parzival found him seated who of castle and land was

head.

Now weariness sore constrained him, nor his shield might he

rightly hold

But it backward and forward wavered as beseemed not a rider

bold.

And Prince Gurnemanz sat all lonely, and the boughs of the

linden tree

Gave shade as was meet to its master, the captain of

courtesy-- 835

And his life it fled from falsehood--Then e'en as should be

his right

He gave to the guest fair welcome, and with him stood nor

squire nor knight.

Then Parzival made him answer--In his folly he spake

straightway,

'My mother bade me seek counsel from an old man with locks of

grey;

For thy rede will I do thee service, for so did my mother

speak!' 840

'If here thou art come for counsel, and aid at my lips would

seek,

Thy favour thou still shalt leave me whatever my counsel be,

If thou will that thy prayer I hearken, and give rede as seem

best to me!'

Then the prince cast a yearling falcon from his hand and

aloft it flew,

And it winged its way to the castle, and its golden bells

rang true, 845

'Twas a messenger; and the pages came swiftly in garments

fair,

And he bade them to lead the guest in, and lodging as meet

prepare;

And the lad he spake in his folly, 'My mother she told me

true,

An thou follow an old man's counsel his rede shalt thou never

rue!

And the pages they led him straightway where stood many a

gallant knight, 850

And there in the castle courtyard from his steed did they bid

him light.

Spake the youth, and he showed his folly, 'Tis a King who

hath bidden me

Be a knight, and whate'er befall me on this charger my seat

shall be.

My mother she bade me greet ye!' And mother they thanked and

son,

(Both horse and man were wearied) then, the words of greeting

done, 855

Full many a time they urged him, but it cost them many a

thought

Ere the lad within the castle, and from off his steed they

brought.

Then they led him to a chamber, and they prayed the stranger

guest,

'Let us loose thine harness off thee, that thy wearied limbs

find rest.'

But scarce had they loosed his armour when lo! there came to

view 860

A garment e'en such as Fools wear, and leggings of calf-skin

new;

Then startled and shamed they turned them, and they whispered

each to all,

And with bated breath the tidings ran swift through the

castle hall,

And the host for shame was speechless--But a knight spake in

courtesy,

'Let that be as it may, one so noble mine eyes they might

never see, 865

And Good Fortune hath looked upon him by his mien so high and

fair--

Ah! he whom Love's light hath chosen, who bade him such garb

to wear?

And it grieveth me sore to find thus on the World's Joy such

poor attire.

Ah! well for the mother who bare him, she hath won her full

heart's desire!

And his helmet is decked so costly; ere his harness from him

we took 870

It became him well, and knightly and noble I ween his look,

And many a bruise and blood-stain the lad on his limbs doth

bear.'

Quoth the host, ''Tis perchance a woman who bade him such

garb to wear!'

'Nay, Sire, for so strange his bearing he would know not a

maid to pray

To take from him knightly homage,--Tho' his face is so fair

alway 875

It had fitted him well for Love's service.' Then the host

spake, ''Tis best we see

This lad, in whose strange attiring a marvel for sure shall

be!'

Then to Parzival they betook them, and they found that a

wound he bare

From a spear that was never shattered, and the host for his

hurts would care,

And so kindly I ween his tending that a father, whose

heartfelt love 880

To his children, found no denial, his faith might no better

prove.

And he washed his wounds and bound them, the prince, with his

own right hand,

Ere forth to the hall he led him where the evening meal

should stand.

And food the guest sore needed, and hungry was he alway,

From the house of the fisherman fasting had he ridden at

break of day, 885

And his wound and the heavy harness which he before Nantes

had won

Wrought him weariness sore and hunger ere ever the ride was

done.

For from Arthur the King of the Bretons the whole day he

needs must ride,

Nor his fast at the Court had broken, and now it was

eventide.

Then the host bade him eat at his table, and Parzival did his

will, 890

And the food it swiftly vanished, as if one would a manger

fill!

And Gurnemanz was well pleasèd, and ever the lad did pray

To eat as he would, and his hunger and weariness put away.

When 'twas time, and the meal was ended, 'Now weary art thou,

I ween,'

Quoth the host to his guest, 'If this morning betimes thou

a-foot hast been?' 895

'God knoweth my mother slumbered, so early she ne'er doth

wake.'

Then the host he laughed, and he led him where rest he right

well might take,

And he bade him disrobe, tho' unwilling, he needs must--An

ermine fair

They cast o'er his naked body,--fairer fruit never woman

bare!

By weariness taught to slumber, but seldom throughout the

night 900

On his other side did he turn him, he might well wait the

morning light.

Then the prince he bade his servants ere ever 'twas middle

day,

A bath, as was meet, make ready by the couch where the young

knight lay,

And roses they threw within it--And tho' he no call might

hear

The guest awoke from his slumbers, and he stepped in the

waters clear. 905

I know not who sent them hither, but maidens richly dressed,

Lovely and sweet to look on, all courteous sought the guest,

They washed his wounds and bound them with their hands so

soft and white,

(Nor should this o'er strange have seemed him who was reft of

wisdom's might)

And both ease he felt and gladness, nor his folly they made

him rue-- 910

Thus these fair and gentle maidens they tended the lad anew,

And they spake 'twixt themselves, and he hearkened, yet never

a word would say,

Yet too early he might not deem it, for they shone as a

second day,

And their beauty it vied with the morning, yet his fairness

outshone the twain,

For naught to the youth was lacking that favour and praise

might gain. 915

Then a linen cloth they proffered, but the lad he took it

ill,

An he robed himself before them, their presence should shame

him still.

Perforce must the maidens leave him, nor longer might linger

there

Tho' in sooth they would fain have questioned lest deeper the

wounds he bare.

(For such was the way of woman, and such is true woman's

will, 920

Tho' scatheless themselves yet the sorrow of a friend it doth

work them ill.)

Then he strode to the bed, and he found there fresh raiment

so fine and white,

With a girdle he bound it round him, 'twas of silk and of

gold so bright;

And hosen of scarlet woollen they drew on the fearless

knight,

In sooth they well became him who was comely in all men's

sight. 925

And of ruddy brown well fashioned, (nor lining they thought

to spare)

Were robe alike and mantle, and within was the ermine fair,

And without were they decked with sable, both black and grey

in hue;

Then the gallant youth the mantle around his shoulders threw,

With a belt so rich and costly he girt him found the waist, 930

And the fastening of the mantle with a golden clasp was

graced.

And his mouth was red and glowing--Then his host he drew

anigh,

And many a proud knight followed, to greet him courteously,

And e'en as 'twas done the heroes they spake with a great

amaze

'Ne'er saw they a man so goodly!'--And all would the mother

praise 935

Who such son to the world had given--And in truth and in

courtesy

They spake, 'Whatsoe'er he asketh for his service fulfilled

shall be,

And favour and love await him if his worth win its meed

alway,'

And of those who hereafter saw him none were there who said

them nay.

By his hand the host then took him, and forth from his

chamber led, 940

And the prince fain would hear the story how the night hours

with him had sped,

'Were it otherwise, I think me that living I scarce might

wake,

'Twas well that my mother bade me thus shelter with thee to

take

Ere yet from her I had ridden--May God requite ye both,

For mercy Sir Knight, and kindness, hast thou shown to me

nothing loth.' 945

So went our hero witless where to God and the host they'd

sing,

And the prince by the Mass would teach him that which health

to the soul shall bring.

He would rede him well of the Offering--How to sign himself

with the Cross,

And thus work on the Devil vengeance, who seeketh for aye our

loss!

Then again to the hall of the castle and the morning meal

they came, 950

And the host set his guest beside him, and he ate without

fear or shame.

Then out spake the prince so courteous, 'An it seemeth not

ill to thee,

Fain am I to know thy dwelling, and from whence thou art come

to me?'

Then frankly he told the story how his mother's side he fled,

Of the ring and the clasp so golden, and the winning the

harness red. 955

And the prince he knew the Red Knight, and his fate it

pleased him ill,

And the name of his guest he asked not but 'The Red Knight'

he called him still.

Then e'en as the meal was over, were they tamed the ways so

wild,

For the host to his guest he quoth thus 'Thou speakest as

doth a child,

Why hold not thy peace of thy mother, and otherwise turn thy

speech? 960

An thou follow henceforth my counsel far wiser the ways I'll

teach!'

'And thus I begin, do thou hearken--From true shame shalt

thou never flee,

A shameless man, bethink thee, what place in the world hath

he?

As a bird that moulteth ever so his honour doth fall away,

And hereafter he hath his portion in the fires of Hell for

aye.' 965

'So noble methinks thy bearing, a folk's Lord thou well mayst

be;

If high be thy birth, and yet higher the lot that awaiteth

thee,

Then see that thy heart hath pity for the poor and needy man

And fight thou against his sorrow with free gifts as best

thou can,

For a true knight must aye be humble--A brave man who need

doth know 970

Full often with shame he battles, and sore is that strife I

trow,

For him shall thy help be ready--(Who lighteneth his

brother's need

From Heaven he winneth favour as rewarding for righteous

deed.)

For in sooth his case is harder than theirs who as beggars

stand

'Neath the window, and succour seeking, for bread shall

stretch forth the hand.' 975

'Thou shalt learn in a fitting measure both rich and poor to

be,

Who spendeth as lord at all times no lordly soul hath he--

Yet who heapeth o'er-much his treasure he winneth methinks

but shame,

But give thou unto each their honour, so best shalt thou

guard thy fame.'

'I saw well as thou earnest hither that thou hadst of my

counsel need-- 980

Yield not unto ways discourteous but give to thy bearing

heed,

_Nor be thou so swift to question_--Yet I would not that thou

withhold

An answer good and fitting to the speech one with thee would

hold.

Thou canst hear and see, I wot well full five shalt thy

senses be,

An thou use them aright, then wisdom it draweth anear to

thee.' 985

'In thy wrath remember mercy, and slay not a conquered foe,

He who to thine arms shall yield him take his pledge and let

him go;

Unless he such ill have wrought thee as sorrow of heart doth

give,

An my counsel thou fain wouldst follow, then in sooth shalt

thou let him live.'

'Full oft shalt thou bear thy harness--When thy knightly task

is sped 990

Thy hands and face thou shalt cleanse them from the rust and

the iron red,

For such is in truth thy duty, so thy face shall be fair and

bright,

And when maiden's eyes behold thee they shall deem thee a

goodly sight.'

'Be manly and of good courage, so shalt thou deserve thy

fame;

Hold women in love and honour, it shall be to thine own good

name; 995

And be ever steadfast-minded as befitteth good man and true,

An with lies thou wouldst fain deceive them much harm can thy

dealings do.

If true love be repaid with falsehood then swift shalt the

judgment be,

And a speedy end to all honour and renown shall it bring to

thee.

As beneath the stealthy footsteps of the thief the dry stick

breaks, 1000

And the slumbering watcher, startled, to his danger swiftly

wakes

So false ways and dealings crooked in their wake bring but

strife and woe;

Prove this by true love, for true women have skill 'gainst

the hidden foe,

And their wiles can outweigh his cunning--An thou winnest

from women hate,

Then for ever art thou dishonoured, and shame on thy life

shall wait.' 1005

'So take thou to heart my counsel--And more would I tell to

thee;

Husband and wife united as one shall they ever be,

As the sun that this morning shineth, and this morn that we

call to-day,

So the twain may be sundered never but _one_ shall be held

alway.

As twin blossoms from one root springing e'en so shall they

bloom and grow; 1010

With wisdom receive my counsel that its truth thou hereafter

know.'

Then he thanked his host for his teaching, nor spake of his

mother more,

But as true man and son so loving in his heart her memory

bore.

Then the prince spake as did him honour, 'Yet more will I

teach to thee,

Thou shalt learn knightly skill and bearing--In such wise

didst thou come to me, 1015

Full many a wall have I looked on that the shields might

better deck

Than that shield erewhile became thee, as it hung there

around thy neck.

None too late shall be the morning, we'll hence to the open

field,

And fitting skill I'll teach thee that thine arms thou mayst

rightly wield.

So bring to my guest his charger, and mine shalt thou hither

lead, 1020

And each knight shall make him ready, and mount, e'en as I,

his steed.

And pages shall thither follow, and each one shall bear a

spear,

And the shaft shall be strong and untested, and blazoned with

colours clear.'

So the prince and his guest together they rode to the grassy

plain,

And many a feat so skilful was shown by that knightly train. 1025

And the lad he learned how to check him his charger in

seeming flight

With touch of spur, and turn him once more 'gainst the

foeman's might;

His spear to sink as needed, and before him hold his shield

As he rode a joust; 'Thus shalt thou thine arms in future

wield!'

Thus of lack of skill he cured him better than by the bough 1030

That smiteth unruly children and breaketh their skin I trow.

Then he bade swift knights come hither, and a joust with the

stranger ride,

And himself to the ring he led him, and against the foe would

guide;

And the lad in his first joust carried his spear through the

foeman's shield,

And tho' strong was the knight yet he smote him from his

steed on the open field. 1035

And they marvelled much who beheld it--Then another to joust

rode near,

And Parzival took unto him a fresh and unbroken spear,

And his youth had strength and courage--The beardless lad and

fair

Was spurred by his inborn manhood, and to Gamuret's skill was

heir--

Then he urged his charger onward full swiftly against the

foe, 1040

And his spear rang true on the four nails, and struck nor too

high nor low,

Nor the host's knight might keep his saddle, but prone on the

sward he fell,

Of the spear-shaft full many a splinter the force of the blow

might tell.

Thus five of the knights were smitten ere the host to the

Burg would ride,

And the victory was his, and hereafter fierce strife might he

well abide. 1045

Then they who his deeds had witnessed, the wise men, they

needs must say

That great was the skill and valour he had shown in the joust

that day,

'Our lord may be free of sorrow, and his youth it may bloom

anew

If he give him to wife his daughter, our lady so fair and

true.

If we see him wax in wisdom then the sorrow shall be

o'erpast-- 1050

The death of his sons a shadow o'erlong o'er his life hath

cast,

But now to his door hath ridden one who maketh amends for

all,

And gladness no more shall fly him, but it seeketh his palace

hall!'

Then homeward they turned at even when the board for the

feast was spread,

And the prince bade his daughter hither (for so I the tale

have read) 1055

As he saw the maid draw near him the host to Liassé spake,

'To this knight shalt thou do all honour, and a kiss from his

lips shalt take,

With Good Fortune for guide he fareth! And of _thee_ would I

pray this thing,

If token perchance she beareth, thou wilt leave to the maid

her ring--

Yet none hath she, nor clasp--Who should give her what that

forest princess wore? 1060

For _she_ won from the hand of her husband what thine hand

from her raiment tore,

From _Liassé_ canst thou take little'--Then the lad he must

blush for shame,

On her lips did kiss the maiden, and her mouth it was red as

flame.

And Liassé was fair to look on, and gentle of heart and pure,

And a hero might well have loved her with a love that should

aye endure. 1065

Full long and low was the table, nor many might sit thereat,

At its head was the prince so kindly, and his guest by his

side he set

Betwixt him and his daughter, and the maiden with snow-white

hand

Must carve, as he willed, for the Red Knight, so her father

would give command,

And courteous, she did his bidding, and none did the twain

prevent 1070

As shy glances rosy-blushing, they each to the other sent!

The feast over, the maiden left them, but she bade not the

guest 'Farewell,'

For twice seven days in honour Parzival with his host did

dwell.

But within his heart lay a sorrow, 'twas no other I ween than

this,

He would he enough had striven to be worthy of wedded bliss, 1075

And he thought him a goal so worthy must lead to a guerdon

high

Both in this life and e'en in the other--And these words they

shall be no lie.

One morning for leave he prayed him, from Graharz he fain

would ride,

And his host, sore loth to lose him, awhile rode his steed

beside.

Fresh sprang of grief the fountain as the prince spake, 'I

lose once more 1080

A son, Death of _three_ hath robbed me, thy loss now shall

make them _four_.

And threefold it was, my sorrow--Who my heart would in pieces

smite

Fourfold and from hence would bear them, in the pain should I

find delight.

_One_ for thee, since thou ridest from me, and _three_ for my

three sons slain--

Bravely they fell in battle, such guerdon doth knighthood

gain!' 1085

'And its end is of sorrow woven--One death all my joy doth

lame,

The death of my son so gallant, Schenteflur did they call his

name;

When Kondwiramur her kingdom and herself would withhold with

strife

From Klamidé the king, and Kingron, in her aid did he lose

his life,

And my heart with the thrust of sorrow, as a hedge is it

piercèd thro'. 1090

Now all too soon dost thou leave me since no comfort from

thee I drew,

Ah! would Death were here my portion since Liassé, that

maiden bright,

And the land I had deemed so goodly find no favour in this

thy sight!'

'My other son, Count Laskoit, by Idêr son of Noit was slain

Anent a hawk--Little gladness from his death I methinks might

gain-- 1095

Gurzgrei did they call my third son, to whom Mahaut gave her

heart,

As his wife did he win the maiden from her brother proud

Ekunât.

'Gainst Brandigan on a venture for Schoie-de-la-kurt he'ld

ride,

And the Prince Mabonagrein smote him, and there by his hand

he died.

And Mahaut she lost her beauty, and his mother, my wife, lay

dead, 2000

For thro' sorrow and bitter yearning the days of her life

were sped.'

Then the guest saw his host's deep sorrow as he told unto him

his woe,

And he quoth, 'Little wisdom have I, yet if ever the day I

know

When I win knightly fame and honour, so that maiden I well

may woo,

Thou shalt give unto me Liassé, thy daughter so fair and

true. 2005

Thou hast told me of o'er-much sorrow; if thy grief I may

lift from thee

From the load of so sore a burden I gladly will set thee

free!'

Then leave from the prince so kindly the young knight that

morn would pray,

And from all his gallant vassals; and he rode from their land

away;

And the prince, in the game of sorrow, tho' heavy before his

throw, 2010

Had lost yet more, for from threefold to fourfold his grief

must grow.

BOOK IV

KONDWIRAMUR

ARGUMENT

BOOK IV. tells how Parzival came to Pelrapär, and found it

besieged

by sea and land, and the folk wasted by famine. How Queen

Kondwiramur

besought his aid; how he overthrew Kingron, and sent him to the

court

of King Arthur. How Parzival wedded the Queen; and of the wrath

of King

Klamidé when he heard the tidings. How the Burgers defended

Pelrapär

against their foemen; how Klamidé challenged Parzival to single

combat,

and was overthrown; and how he came to the court of King Arthur

at

Dianasdron. Of the love of Parzival and Kondwiramur; and how the

hero

parted from his wife, and went in search of knightly venture.

BOOK IV

KONDWIRAMUR

Thus Parzival parted from them, and courteous he now might

bear

His knightly garb, and he knew them, the customs of

knighthood fair.

But alas! he full sore was troubled with many a bitter pain,

And the world was too close, and too narrow the width of the

spreading plain,

And the greensward he thought was faded, and his harness had

paled to white; 5

So the heart the eye constraineth and dimmeth awhile the

sight.

For since he had waxed less simple somewhat of his father's

lore,

The desire of the man for the maiden, in his wakening heart

he bore;

And he thought but of fair Liassé, that maiden so true and

sweet,

How never her love she proffered, yet with honour the guest

would greet. 10

And wherever his horse might turn it he took in his grief no

heed,

And if slowly it paced or swiftly he thought not to guide its

speed.

Nor many a field well-fencèd nor wayside cross he found;

Nor chariot-wheel nor horse-hoof had furrowed with tracks the

ground;

Untrodden the woodland pathway, nor wide was I ween the way, 15

And he knew not the hills and the valleys--Full oft shall ye

hear men say,

'Who rideth astray, in his wandering the lost axe may often

find.'

They lay here unnumbered round him, if for _axe_ ye have

_trees_ in mind.

Yet tho' far was the road he journeyed yet he went in no wise

astray,

And thus from the land of Graharz he rode through the

livelong day, 20

Till he came to the kingdom of Brobarz thro' mountains wild

and high--

When the shadows of evening lengthened, and red flushed the

western sky,

Then he came to a mountain torrent, and the voice of the

raging flood

Rang clear as its waves rushed foaming round the crags that

amid them stood.

So he rode adown by the waters till he came to the city fair 25

Which a king had bequeathed to his daughter; 'twas the city

of Pelrapär,

And I wot that tho' fair the maiden who bare of that land the

crown,

Great grief and small gladness had they who dwelt in that

noble town!

Like an arrow that swiftly speedeth from the bow by a strong

arm bent,

The waters onward rushing on their downward pathway went; 30

And a bridge hung high above them with woven work so fair,

And the stream it flowed swift to the ocean--Well-guarded was

Pelrapär,

As children in swings delight them, and swing themselves to

and fro,

So swung the bridge, yet ropeless, youthful gladness it

scarce might know!

And on either side were standing, with helmets for battle

bound, 35

Of knights e'en more than thirty, and they bade him to turn

him round,

And with lifted swords, tho' feeble, the strife would they

gladly wait,

They thought 'twas the King Klamidé whom they oft had seen of

late,

So royally rode the hero to the bridge o'er the field so

wide--

As thus to the youth they shouted, and with one voice his

arms defied, 40

Tho' he spurred his steed full sharply it shrank from the

bridge in fright,

But ne'er knew he a thought of terror--To the ground sprang

the gallant knight.

And he led his horse by the bridle where the bridge hung high

in air,

Too faint were a coward's courage so bitter a strife to dare!

And well must he watch his footsteps for he feared lest his

steed should fall-- 45

From the other side of the water the knights had ceased their

call,

And with shield and sword-blade gleaming within the town they

passed,

For they feared lest an army followed, and they closed their

portals fast.

So Parzival crossed the river, and he rode o'er a grassy

plain

Where many in search of knighthood must death for their

guerdon gain; 50

And he came to the palace portal, and stately the Burg and

high,

And there hung there a ring of iron, and he gripped it right

manfully.

But none to his call made answer, save only a maiden bright

Who looked forth from out her window, and was 'ware of the

gallant knight.

Spake the maiden so fair and courteous, 'An thou comest, Sir

Knight, as foe, 55

Little need have we of thine hatred, for heavy enough our

woe,

A wrathful host doth threaten already by sea and land!'

Then he quoth, 'Nay, gentle lady, at thy portals a man doth

stand

Who will, if he can, do thee service! For thy service my hand

is fain,

And never reward save thy greeting as payment I think to

gain.' 60

Then the maiden she went in her wisdom to the queen and an

entrance prayed

For the knight, and in sooth his coming it brought to their

sorrow aid.

So Parzival came to the city; down the roadway on either hand

The folk who would fain defend them in close groups he saw

them stand,

Soldiers on foot, and slingers, and they who the dart could

throw, 65

He saw as he came towards them, in many a goodly row.

And many a squire so valiant, the bravest from out the land,

Long, sharp, and strong were the lances they bare in each

strong right hand.

There too, so the story telleth, was many a merchant grave,

And the javelin and axe were their weapons, so their lady

commandment gave. 70

And their skins, they were loose for hunger--Then the Marshal

of the queen

Made his way thro' their ranks to the castle, and heavy his

task I ween.

And well was that castle guarded, with towers o'er the

chambers high;

And barbican, keep, and oriel in such numbers they met his

eye

That buildings so strong and so many in his lifetime he never

saw, 75

And on horse or afoot from all sides the knights to his

welcome draw.

'Twas a sorry host, for as ashes some were grey, some were

pale as clay,

(My lord the Count of Wertheim sure had starved on such

scanty pay!)

Thro' want full sore they hungered, nor cheese, nor bread,

nor meat

Had they, and their teeth were idle since naught might they

find to eat. 80

And their palate knew naught of the flavour of the wine-cup,

or red or white,

And their doublet hung loosely on them, and wasted each limb

of might,

And their skin like wrinkled leather on each rib hung gaunt

and grim,

For hunger their flesh had wasted and driven from every limb.

Thro' want must they sorely suffer, little grease in their

fuel ran-- 85

(A hero to this had forced them, the proud King of Brandigan,

Thus they paid for Klamidé's wooing)--The mead might they

seldom spill,

For small was their store, I think me, the vessel or cup to

fill.

In Trühending oft shall ye hearken the hiss of the frying

cake,

In such music, methinks, but seldom the folk might their

pleasure take! 90

(And if for such want I'ld mock them, then in truth must I

share their shame,

For there where I oft dismount me, where men do me '_Master_'

name,

At home in mine house, with trouble e'en the mice shall their

portion steal,

Nor oft for their food be joyful! Nor need they the bread

conceal,

Unhidden, I scarce may find it--Yea, oft doth it happen so, 95

And I, Wolfram of Eschenbach, ofttimes such pleasure and ease

may know.)

But enough of my lamentation, once more ye the tale shall

hear

How the city was full of sorrow, and for gladness they paid

full dear.

How these heroes, so rich in courage, must in need and in

scarceness live,

For so did the manhood bid them, to their need shall ye pity

give-- 100

For their life stood in pledge, might He free it in Whose

Hand all power shall be!--

Yet more of their grief would I tell ye that ye mourn for

them bitterly,

With shame their guest did they welcome, for they deemed him

so rich and great

That he craved not thro' need their shelter; he knew naught

of their poor estate.

On the grass did they spread a carpet, where a linden was

walled around, 105

And trained to a welcome shadow--'Neath its boughs they his

arms unbound,

And the vassals they took his harness; but other than theirs

his face

When he in the streamlet washed it, and cleansed it from red

rust trace;

Nay, the sunlight's rays were shamèd 'neath the glow of his

beauty bright,

And a worthy guest they thought him as they gazed on the

gallant knight. 110

Then a mantle rich they brought him e'en like to the robe he

bare,

And new was the smell of the sable wherewith it was garnished

fair.

Then they spake, 'Wilt thou look upon her, the queen, our

lady true?'

And the knight made answer straightway, that thing would he

gladly do.

To the palace they came, and the stairway steep and high to

the portal led, 115

And the light of a fair face met him when his footsteps so

far were sped.

Of his eyes should she be the sweetness--There shone from

that lady bright

A radiant glow and dazzling, ere she welcomed the stranger

knight.

Now Kiot of Katelangen and Manfilot, Dukes the twain,

Led hither their brother's daughter who as queen o'er this

land did reign: 120

(For the love of God their harness, shield, and sword, had

they put away

These princes true and stalwart, fair of face tho' their hair

was grey.)

Midway adown the staircase all courteous the maid they led,

And she kissed the gallant hero, and the lips of the twain

were red;

And she gave him her hand, and she led him, Sir Parzival, to

the hall, 125

And they sat them adown together in the midst of the

courtiers all.

And feeble and faint the maidens, and the knights who stood

there around,

And vassal alike and hostess, small joy in their life they

found.

Yet Kondwiramur, her beauty did high o'er all others stand,

Were it Enid, or fair Jeschuté or Kunnewaaré of far Lalande, 130

Whoe'er men had deemed the fairest when they women's beauty

weighed,

Their fame to the earth was smitten by the glance of this

royal maid.

Yea, even the twain Isoldé, tho' men praise them evermore,

They must yield the crown of beauty to the lady Kondwiramur.

(And her name in our tongue betokens her shapely form and

fair) 135

And well had they done, the mothers, who had borne such a

goodly pair

As these twain who sat here together, naught did they who

stood around

But gaze on the one and the other--Many friends had our hero

found.

And the thoughts of the knight will I tell ye, _'There_

Liassé, Liassé _here_,--

God will free me from care since I see here Liassé that

maiden dear 140

The child of a gallant father!'--Yet her fairness was naught

I wot,

'Gainst her beauty who sat beside him, in whom God no wish

forgot.

(The maiden was queen of the country) Yea, e'en as by morning

dew

Refreshed, the rose from its calyx forth buddeth in beauty

new,

And is white and red together--And grief to her guest it

wrought, 145

To whose courtesy naught was lacking since Gurnemanz' side he

sought,

And his words had from folly freed him; and had bidden him

questions spare

Save only where they were needful--So he sat by that lady

fair,

And never a word his lips spake, tho' he sat close the maid

beside--

Yet to those who know more of woman such silence doth oft

betide. 150

Then the queen to herself said softly, 'This man disdaineth

me,

He deemeth my fairness faded. Nay, perchance it yet may be

That in this thing he doeth wisely, his hostess in sooth am

I,

And he is my guest, the first speech should be mine

assuredly!

Gently he looks upon me tho' never a word we speak, 155

And courteous hath been his bearing, 'twere well I the

silence break;

Too long have I yet delayed me since here side by side we

sit.'

To her guest did she turn, the maiden, and she spake as it

seemed her fit:

'Sir Knight, it were well as hostess that the first words

came from me,

Since I wot well my kiss as hostess a greeting hath won from

thee, 160

And thou offeredst me thy service, so my maiden hath borne me

word,

Our guests scarce are wont to do so, tho' the tidings I fain

had heard.

Now tell me, my guest, I prithee, since the tale I am fain to

know,

From whence art thou come to my kingdom, and whither thou yet

wouldst go?'

'Lady, at early morning I rode from my host away, 165

A brave knight is he and faithful, yet he sorroweth sore

to-day,

And Prince Gurnemanz do men call him, in Graharz he holds

command,

From thence I to-day have ridden, thence came I unto this

land!'

Then the noble maiden answered, 'Sir Knight, had another told

This tale, methinks that scarcely for truth I the words might

hold, 170

That thou in one day hadst ridden a journey that scarce in

twain

My swiftest squire could compass, tho' his charger he spurred

amain!

Thy host was my mother's brother; his daughter's youthful

glow,

It hath paled before the sorrow which she, e'en as I, must

know.

For many sad days and mournful, with sad eyes we've wept our

fill 175

I, and the maid Liassé--Wouldst thou show to thy host

goodwill?

Then thou shalt with us, man and woman, this night-tide our

sorrow share,

Thou shalt serve him thereby; and I'll tell thee the want we

perforce must bear.'

Then out spake her uncle Kiot, 'Lady, I send to thee

Twelve loaves of bread, and of shoulders and hams do I give

thee three, 180

And eight cheeses too are with them, and two casks of wine I

trow,

And my brother, he too shall aid thee, of such aid hast thou

need enow!'

And Manfilot spake, 'Yea, Lady, I send thee the self-same

fare.'

And the maiden she sat in gladness, and of thanks she no word

would spare.

Then leave they craved from their lady, and forth would the

old men ride 185

To their hunting-house that was nigh there--But the cell

where they would abide,

Was in Alpine wilds so lonely, there unarmed did they dwell

afar,

And never a foeman vexed them with tumult or strife of war.

And the messenger sped full swiftly, and the fainting folk

were fed,

No Burger within the city but was lacking for other bread, 190

And many were dead of hunger ere food for their need was

found.

Then the queen she bade them share it to the feeble folk

around,

With the cheese, the flesh, and the red wine, as Parzival

counsel gave,

Scarce a morsel was left, yet they shared it, the queen and

her guest so brave.

And swiftly the store had vanished, tho' to many who yet

might live, 195

Nor were slain by cruel hunger this succour fresh life might

give.

Then they bade them a couch make ready for the guest, and

'twas soft his bed,

(Had the Burgers been hawks for the hunting methinks they

were not o'er-fed

As their scanty board bare witness) yea, the folk there, one

and all,

Bare the marks of bitter hunger, save the gallant Parzival. 200

Then leave he prayed of his hostess, he would lay him down to

rest.

Do ye think that for tapers straw-wisps must light so brave a

guest?

Nay, better were they I think me; he betook him, the hero

fair,

To a bed so rich and stately a king well might slumber there,

Nor of poverty bare it token, and a carpet before it lay. 205

Then he prayed the knights to go hence, nor longer there

delay,

And noble lads un-shod him, and straightway he fell asleep,

Till the cry of heart-sorrow woke him, and tears that bright

eyes should weep.

This chanced e'en as I will tell ye; no woman's law she

brake,

For pure was she aye, the maiden of whom this venture spake. 210

Long stress of war constrained her, and the death of her

champion true,

So heavy her heart with sorrow that sleep from her eyelids

flew,

So she went, this royal lady, (but never such love to claim

As urgeth a gentle maiden to crave of a _wife_ the name)

But she sought help and friendly counsel, tho' clad in a

warlike gear, 215

A silken shift, (strife she wakeneth who doth thus to a man

draw near.)

And the maiden she wrapped around her a mantle of samite

long,

And she went as her steps were guided by sorrow and bitter

wrong.

Her maidens and waiting women who lay there around her bed

She left them slumbering softly, and with noiseless footsteps

sped 220

To a chamber, there, e'en as she bade them, Parzival all

lonely lay,

And around his couch the tapers burnt bright as the light of

day.

To his bed she turned her footsteps, and she knelt low his

couch before,

But no thought of love unlawful the heart of either bore.

Of joy bereft was the maiden, his help she was fain to claim, 225

If awhile they lay there together it brought unto neither

shame.

So bitter the maiden's sorrow that there fell full many a

tear

On Parzival, and her weeping thro' his slumbers the knight

might hear,

And waking, he looked upon her, and sorrow and joy he felt,

And he rose up, the youthful hero, as the maiden before him

knelt, 230

And he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, wilt thou now make a

mock of me?

To God only, and never to mortal methinks shouldst thou bow

the knee.

But rise thou and sit beside me, or grant me I pray this

grace,

Lay thyself down where I was lying, I will seek me some other

place!'

But she spake, '_Thyself_ wilt thou honour, and show honour

alike to me, 235

And by never a touch wilt shame me, I will e'en lay me down

by thee.'

Then the knight he spake by his knighthood he would e'en do

as he should say,

So down on the bed beside him in peace the maiden lay.

Tho' well sped were the hours of the night-time no cock did

they hear to crow,

Empty and bare the perches, for the famine had left them so. 240

Then the maiden, grieving sorely, prayed him courteous her

plaint to hear,

''Twill rob thee of sleep an I tell thee, and work to thee

ill I fear.

My foeman the King Klamidé, and Kingron his seneschal,

My castles and lands have wasted, yea, all but this citadel.

My father, King Tampentäre, by his death me, poor orphan,

left 245

In peril and need so deadly, of all hope am I well-nigh reft.

Kinsmen and princes many, and vassals, both rich and poor,

Yea, a mighty army served me, but they serve me now no more.

One half, nay, far more I think me, in defence of my land are

slain,

Alas! whence shall I, poor maiden, or gladness or succour

gain? 250

In such sore strait do I find me, I am ready myself to kill

Ere my maidenhood and this body I yield to Klamidé's will.

His wife he is fain to make me, yet his was the hand that

slew

My Knight Schenteflur, the hero, whose heart was both brave

and true,

And the flower was he of all manhood, falsehood he ne'er

might know, 255

Who was brother unto Liassé, and she too shall share my woe.'

But e'en as she named Liassé then sorrow awoke anew

In his heart who would fain do service, and his spirit, so

high and true,

Sank, as sinketh a hill to the valley, at the thought of that

maiden dear;

Yet he spake to the queen, 'Say, Lady, how best may I serve

thee here?' 260

'Sir Knight an thou couldst but rid me of Kingron the

seneschal;

In knightly joust of my warriors full many before him fell.

With the morning again he cometh, and he thinketh that free

from harm

His lord soon shall lie, my husband, in the clasp of my

circling arm.

My Burg hast thou seen, and thou knowest how lofty its towers

and high, 265

Yet down to the moat below them will I fling myself joyfully,

Ere of maidenhood King Klamidé shall rob me against my will,

If no better may be, then by dying, his boasting I yet may

still!'

Then he quoth, 'Lady, French or Breton, of what country

soe'er he be,

From Kingron my hand shall shield thee, with what power may

be given to me.' 270

The night was spent, with the dawning the queen she arose

again,

Lowly she bent before him, nor from thanks would her lips

restrain.

Then she passed from the chamber softly, and no man might be

aware,

Tho' wise were he else, of her errand, save only the knight

so fair.

Nor Parzival longer slumbered, for the sun was swift to rise, 275

And it pierced thro' the clouds of morning, and smote on his

wakened eyes;

And he heard the sweet bells chiming, as the folk church and

minster sought,

For Klamidé their joy had banished, and their land in sore

peril brought.

Then up rose the young knight also; the chaplain was in his

place

And he sang to God and his lady; and the guest saw the

maiden's face, 280

And he gazed till the Mass was ended, and the benediction

o'er.

Then he bade them to bring his harness, and soon was he armed

once more,

A good knight and strong they deemed him, in gallant armour

fair.

Then on came Klamidé's army with banners borne high in air.

And Kingron, he came full swiftly, he sped far before the

force, 285

And, so hath the story told me, of Iserterre's land his

horse.

And there waited before the portal the son of King Gamuret,

And the prayers and the hopes of the townsfolk on the

youthful knight were set.

Nor with sword he ere this had striven--From afar did he aim

his stroke,

And so swift his joust, in the meeting the gear of both

chargers broke, 290

And their girths were burst asunder, and each steed to its

knees was brought,

And the heroes who yet bestrode them of their swords must

they needs take thought;

In their scabbards did they find them--And already did

Kingron bear

Wounds in arm and breast, and I wot me that loss was his

portion there.

For this joust brought him loss of the glory that methinks

had been his alway 295

Till he met with this knight, and their meeting, of his pride

was the dying day.

And valiant did men account him, six knights had he prostrate

laid

Who rode in one field against him, yet here was he well

repaid

By Parzival's right hand valiant, and Kingron the seneschal

Thought strange was indeed his peril, for _stones_ surely on

him fell 300

Cast forth from a mighty engine--Other arms wrought his

overthrow,

For a sword clave clean thro' his helmet, and Parzival laid

him low,

And he knelt with one knee upon him, and he bade him

forthwith to give

What he ne'er to a foe had given, his pledge, an he fain

would live.

But he thought not to be his captor who had vanquished him

here in field, 305

But he bade him ride hence to Graharz and his pledge to its

lord to yield.

'Nay, Sir Knight, thou hadst better slay me, 'twas I who slew

his son,

'Twas my hand of life that robbed him, Schenteflur--Thou from

God hast won

Great honour, yea, men shall praise thee for the strength

that thou here hast shown,

Of a sooth art thou here the victor, and Good Fortune shall

be thine own.' 310

Quoth Parzival, 'Yet another is the choice I will give to

thee,

Yield thou to the queen whom thy master in his wrath wronged

so grievously!'

'Nay! Then were I lost of a surety, for I wot with their

sword-blades keen

My body they'ld hew in pieces, small as dust in the sun is

seen!

Such sorrow of heart, I think me, and grief thro' my hand

they win, 315

Full many a gallant hero who dwelleth those walls within.'

'Then hence from this plain shalt thou journey to the kingdom

of Brittany,

And bear to a gentle maiden thy pledge and thy fealty.

For she for my sake hath suffered a sorrow she ne'er had

borne,

Had not Kay been of knightly customs, and of courtesy fair

forsworn. 320

Say to her how with me it fareth, that I come not in joy

again

Till my spear, thro' his shield sharp-piercing, hath wiped

out her honour's stain.

To King Arthur and to his lady, and the knights of the Table

Round

Bear my greeting, and say in their presence shall I never

again be found

Till the day I from shame have freed me; from the shame which

_I_ too must share 325

With the maiden who smiled upon me, and great grief for that

greeting bare.

Say to _her_ I am aye her servant, to serve her with service

fain!'

So Kingron must swear unto him ere they parted, those heroes

twain.

Thus he came afoot to the city, for thither had fled his

steed,

The Burgers' help in battle, from their anguish the folk he

freed. 330

But the outer host was troubled that Kingron, their chosen

knight,

In this wise had been dishonoured, and broken his dauntless

might.

Then they led Parzival in triumph to their queen so fair and

young,

And the maiden was fain to greet him, and her white arms

around him clung,

And in close embrace she held him as she spake, 'The wide

earth doth hold 335

No man I will have for my husband save him whom these arms

enfold!'

And as here they disarmed the hero her part would the maiden

bear

With ready hand and skilful, nor her service she thought to

spare.

But tho' heavy had been his labour, yet scanty, I ween, the

board.

And the Burgers they came before him, and they sware him with

one accord 340

They would have him for lord and master; and the queen in her

turn she spake,

And she said that this knight so valiant for her love and her

lord she'ld take

Who had won him a fame so mighty o'er Kingron the seneschal--

But now from the castle bulwarks two sails might be seen by

all,

A strong wind to the haven brought them, and their lading

must needs make glad 345

The folk, they bare naught but victuals,--God's guidance they

surely had!

Then they rushed adown from the ramparts, and swift to the

ships they fled,

The hungry crowd, for the booty, as leaves by the wind are

sped.

With flesh they were not o'erweighted, so wasted and thin

were they,

Nor they strutted with well-filled belly, but bending they

went their way. 350

The queen's marshal he sware the shipmen, by the doom of the

hempen cord,

Safe conduct for life and lading, none should touch that

which lay aboard.

Then he bade them to lead these merchants straightway into

the town,

And Parzival for their lading the double he paid them down,

And gladly the merchants took it, for princely they deemed

such pay; 355

And the Burgers these welcome viands to their fires did they

bear straightway.

Now fain would I there take service, no man of them all drank

beer,

Wine and food had they there in plenty--Then he did as you

now shall hear,

Parzival, the gallant hero, for first in portions small,

With his own right hand he shared out the viands among them

all, 360

Yea, even unto the nobles; so long had they lacked for bread,

He feared it had wrought them evil if perchance they were

over-fed.

But to each one he gave his portion, and his counsel they

deemed it right,

And more should they win ere nightfall from the hand of this

gallant knight.

To their marriage couch they bade them, 'twas the will both

of king and queen-- 365

Yet throughout the night so courteous he bare him, in truth I

ween,

He little had pleased those ladies who now, in these latter

days,

In passion's heat forget all that should win for a woman

praise;

Tho' modest they seem to strangers, yet their heart gives

their mien the lie,

And their tenderness worketh sorrow to their friend, tho' in

secrecy. 370

But the steadfast knight and faithful guards himself at every

hour,

And well knoweth to spare a woman an she chanceth within his

power.

For he thinketh, and thinketh truly, 'For many a lonely year

For her favours I served this lady; now, behold, the day is

here

When her will is to reward me, and here we twain do lie-- 375

Had I touched with bare hand her vesture I were blest to

eternity!

An I vantage take of her slumbers to myself untrue I seem,

Methinks we were both dishonoured did I waken her from her

dream,

For a woman's sleep is holy, and all men shall own its sway.'

Thus the Waleis, who ne'er had feared him, lay still till the

dawn of day. 380

Thus he whom men called the Red Knight, a maiden he left the

queen,

Yet surely she deemed in the morning his wife she o'er night

had been,

And for love of her lord her tresses she bound with the

morning light

As matrons are wont to bind them. And he won him, the gallant

knight,

Castles and lands around them from the hand of his maiden

bride, 385

But her _heart_ was ere this his guerdon, and in peace did

the twain abide.

Thus glad in their love they held them two days till the

third night fell,

And often he thought might he take her to himself it would

please him well.

Then he thought of his mother's counsel, and how Gurnemanz

spake of yore,

That man and wife should as _one_ be, and the doubt vexed his

soul no more, 390

And his wife did he take unto him--Love's custom ever old,

Yet ever new to lovers, to these twain brought joy untold.

'Twas well, not evil, with them--Now hear how the king, their

foe,

As he rode in his might to battle, must tidings of evil know.

'Twas a squire who fain had told them, all crimson his spurs

with blood; 395

'Before Pelrapär on the meadow have they foughten those

heroes good,

'Twas a bitter strife and knightly; thy seneschal fell that

day,

Kingron, who led thine army, to King Arthur must take his

way.

As he in departing bade them lies the army upon the plain.

Pelrapär shalt thou find well guarded 'gainst thyself and

thine armies twain, 400

There within is a gallant hero, and naught doth he crave but

strife;

In the camp of thy hired soldiers is many a rumour rife,

They say from the good Round Table cometh Ither of Cumberland

To the help of the queen, and knightly and valiant methinks

his hand!

'Twas his arms that rode forth for jousting, and no man his

deeds shall blame, 405

In such wise hath he borne his armour as winneth him meed of

fame.'

Quoth the king to the squire, 'My lady, the queen, she

desireth me,

And she and her land so goodly I trow shall my portion be.

And Kingron the seneschal told me, and surely the truth he

spake,

That famine doth plague the city, and peace they ere long

must make, 410

And the queen she her love shall proffer'--His wrath must the

squire abide.

Then the king and his host passed onward, and a knight did

toward them ride,

And he spared not his horse but spurred it, and told them the

self-same tale,

And the king deemed the loss o'er-heavy, and courage and joy

must fail.

Then a prince spake from out the army, 'Tho' Kingron hath

valour shown, 415

Yet never he fought for _our_ manhood, he fought for himself

alone.

Now let him to death be stricken--Why then should they be

cast down,

Two hosts, this one, and the army that lieth before the

town?'

Then he bade his lord take courage, 'Once more will we try

our fate,

Let them look to their arms, the conflict shall be for their

strength too great, 420

We will make an end of their gladness! Bid thy vassals and

kinsmen hear,

With banners twain before them to the town shall they draw

anear;

Down the hill will we ride upon them, but afoot must we storm

the gate,

For so shall we work them evil, and victory shall on us

wait.'

Galogandres, the Duke of Gippones, it was who this counsel

gave, 425

And sorrow he brought on the Burgers--but slain was this hero

brave,

And slain, too, the brave Count Narant, a prince from

Uckerland's shore,

And many another hero whom dead from the field they bore.

Now hear ye another story, how the Burgers would guard their

wall.

Strong stakes of wood sharp-pointed they made fast in

tree-trunks tall; 430

(Sore pain thus was wrought the besiegers) and the trunks

were made fast that day

To a rope that by wheel was guided, so they guarded their

walls alway.

And all this had they done and tested ere Klamidé would storm

the gate

To avenge the fall of Kingron--There had come to their land

of late

Greek fire, for the ships had brought it that of food brought

a goodly store, 435

And it burnt of the foe the weapons, and the engines of

deadly war;

And battering-ram or tortoise in vain 'gainst the walls were

wheeled,

No weapon had they for onslaught but was forced to the flame

to yield!

Now Kingron the seneschal journeyed till he came on to Breton

ground,

In his hunting-house in Briziljan King Arthur at last he

found, 440

And Karminöl did they call it--As 'fore Pelrapär he fought,

So at Parzival's word his surety to the maid of Lalande he

brought,

And glad was fair Kunnewaaré that, faithful, he mourned her

shame

Whom men there knew as the Red Knight, and this knight at his

bidding came.

And soon were the wondrous tidings amid the courtiers spread, 445

And he stood there before King Arthur, a gallant knight

ill-sped.

Then he spake unto him and his vassals in such wise as he

needs must speak,

And Kay was with terror smitten, and crimson it grew, his

cheek,

And he spake, 'Is it thou, O Kingron? Ah! many a Breton

knight,

Thou seneschal of Klamidé, thy hand hath o'erthrown in fight! 450

If thy captor ne'er look upon me with favour, thine office

high

Shall turn to thy good; we are rulers of the caldron, both

thou and I,

Of thy wisdom and skill do thou aid me, to win me the favour

fair

Of this maiden Kunnewaaré, and sweet cates for her board

prepare!'

Nor they asked from him other ransom--Now leave we that tale

and hear 455

What had passed since we left the story--So the host to the

town drew near,

To Pelrapär came the King Klamidé, and a bitter strife arose.

The inner host strove with the outer, and in sooth were they

gallant foes,

Fresh strength had they won and courage, and bravely they

held the field;

And Parzival, lord of the country, in the vanguard he bare

his shield. 460

And he swung aloft his weapon, thro' the helm clave the blade

so keen,

And the knights he o'erthrew before him found a bitter death

I ween,

For there, where the corslet opened, the Burgers they pierced

them thro',

In such wise would they take their vengeance--this wrought

grief to the hero true,

And Parzival, he forbade them, and they ceased at their

lord's command, 465

But of living knights full twenty were captive unto their

hand.

Yet Parzival well had marked it how the king and his bravest

knights

Sought not fame before the portals, but far out in the plain

would fight;

Then forth by a path untrodden the hero a circuit made,

And swiftly he charged where the monarch his banner aloft

displayed. 470

And, see! there a mighty slaughter the guard of the king

befell,

And the shields they were hewn in pieces, the Burgers they

fought so well.

And Parzival's shield had vanished 'fore the blows and the

sword-blades keen;

And tho' little his skill rejoiced them, yet all who the

strife had seen,

They spoke but to praise his valour--Galogandres the standard

bare, 475

(Well he knew how to wake their courage!) but dead lay the

hero there.

And Klamidé himself stood in peril, and great stress on his

army lay;

Then he bade them withdraw, for the valour of the Burgers had

won the day.

But Parzival, gallant hero, bade them treat their captives

well

Till the dawn of the third day's morning, and fear on his

foemen fell. 480

Then the young host, proud and joyful, bade the knights on

their oath go free--

'Good friends, when the word I send ye, then wend your way

back to me!'

Their swords and their goodly harness as prisoners they needs

must yield;

Unarmed did they fare from the city to the host on the outer

field.

'For sooth,' spake their comrades mocking, 'from _wine_ must

ye needs be red, 485

Poor souls, since within the city ye have hungered for lack

of bread!'

'Nay! nay! ye may spare your pity,' so spake they, the heroes

good,

'If ye lie here a whole year longer, within is such store of

food,

That by them might ye well be nourished! And the queen hath

the fairest knight

For her husband, that e'er won knighthood, or carried a

shield in fight, 490

He may well be of lofty lineage, for he lacketh no knightly

skill!'

And the king needs must hear the tidings, and in sooth did

they please him ill,

And heralds he sent to the city, and he bade them this

challenge bear

To him whom the queen had wedded, 'If this knight the strife

shall dare,

And the queen doth hold him worthy herself, and her lands so

wide, 495

To defend in single combat, then in peace may our hosts

abide!'

And Parzival he was joyful at the message the heralds bare,

And his heart was fain for the combat; and out spake the hero

fair,

'Now I pledge me upon mine honour that no man within this

wall

Shall lift his hand for my peril, _alone_ will I stand or

fall!' 500

So betwixt the moat and the meadow a truce did they swear

that day,

And those smiths of battle armed them as meet for the coming

fray.

On a gallant war-horse armèd sat the King of Brandigan,

'Twas hight Guverjorz--This charger with many a gallant man,

And many a goodly present, from Gringorz his nephew, king 505

Of Ipotente did Count Narant from the north o'er the deep

seas bring.

And therewith were a thousand footmen, well armed save no

shield had they;

(If the tale speaketh true to the third year the king had

made good their pay.)

And Gringorz sent him knights five hundred, each one with his

helm on head,

And skilled were they all in battle; with Klamidé they hither

sped. 510

And thus had the mighty army, alike both by sea and land,

Encircled the town of Pelrapär, and great need must its folk

withstand!

Forth rode Parzival from the city to the field that should

aye declare

If 'twas God's will his wife to leave him, the child of King

Tampentäre.

Proudly he rode, yet he spurred not his steed to its swiftest

flight, 515

And 'twas armed for need, and its covering was a samite of

red so bright,

And the iron lay beneath it--And the hero himself shone fair

In his harness red, red his corslet, and the shield that he

proudly bare.

And Klamidé began the conflict--A short spear of wood

unwrought,

With that would he fell his foeman, and the joust from afar

he sought; 520

And Guverjorz sprang forth swiftly, and the joust it was

ridden well

By those heroes young and beardless, nor one from his saddle

fell,

And never a horse or a rider had foughten a better fight;

And the steam rose in clouds from the chargers on which sat

each gallant knight,

And so fierce was the fight that the horses, out-wearied with

conflict sore, 525

Stumbled and fell together, in sooth could they do no more.

And joyful they smote, the heroes, till fire from the helm

must spring,

Small time had they there for leisure, but zeal to their task

must bring;

And the shields were hewn in pieces, and the splinters were

tossed on high,

As shuttlecocks gaily smitten to the winds of heaven fly. 530

Yet Gamuret's son was unwearied, and never a limb did ache,

Tho' Klamidé deemed that the foemen from the city the truce

would break.

Then he bade his fellow-foeman to look to his honour well,

And stay the hand of the slingers, for the blows heavy on him

fell

As of stones shot forth from an engine--But Parzival made

reply, 535

'Nay, safe art thou from the slingers, my word is thy surety,

Thou hast peace from mine hand, and I swear thee that never a

sling shall break

Head, or breast, or thigh, thou art safe here, were it but

for mine honour's sake!'

All too soon was Klamidé wearied and spent with the deadly

fight,

Who was victor, and who was vanquished, ere long might be

seen aright, 540

And they looked on the King Klamidé, on the grass was he laid

alow,

And Parzival's right hand gripped him till forth streamed the

crimson flow

Of blood from the ears and nostrils, and the green turf was

dyed with red;

And his foeman unbound the helmet and visor, and bared his

head,

The vanquished would face the death-blow, and the victor

spake, 'Here I free 545

My wife for aye from thy wooing! Learn thou what Death may

be!'

'Nay! nay! thou gallant hero, thirty-fold doth thy glory grow

Thro' the valour thine hand hath shown here, since in strife

thou hast laid me low.

What higher fame dost thou look for? Kondwiramur sure shall

say

That Good Fortune hath smiled upon thee, whilst _I_ am

Misfortune's prey; 550

Thy land hast thou now delivered--As when one a leaking boat

Doth free from the load of water, that it light o'er the

waves may float,

So lightened am I of honour! Manly honour and joy I trow

Are waxen thin and faded, what profit to slay me _now_?

From children and children's children mine heritage shall be

shame, 555

To do more here methinks were needless--For joy thou hast won

and fame,

And a living death is my portion, since for ever from her I

part,

Who fast in love's magic fetters hath held me both mind and

heart,

Little good it forsooth hath brought me, ah! most wretched

henceforth am I,

And this land and its lovely lady for aye in thy power shall

lie!' 560

Now he who was here the victor on Gurnemanz' counsel thought,

How mercy should well beseem him who with manhood had valiant

fought,

And he thought him the rede to follow; and thus to the king

he spake,

'I free thee not, to the father of Liassé submission make!'

'Nay, Sir Knight, I have wrought him evil, 'twas thro' me

that his son was slain, 565

An ill-fate wouldst thou bring upon me! The hand of thy queen

to gain,

With Schenteflur I battled, and in sooth had I died that day,

Save that Kingron came to my succour, and his hand did the

hero slay.

For Gurnemanz of Graharz had sent him to Brobarz' land

At the head of a gallant army; 'twas a fair and knightly

band, 570

Nine hundred knights who fought well, and rode upon mail-clad

steeds,

And fifteen hundred footmen all armed for valiant deeds,

For naught but shields should fail them--Too great their

might I thought,

But the seed of such goodly harvest once more their country

sought.

Yet now hath my loss been greater! Of my heroes but few are

left, 575

What more would thine hand take from me, who of gladness am

now bereft?'

'An easier way I'll show thee, to Brittany shalt thou ride,

Kingron has gone before thee, there King Arthur he doth

abide,

To _him_ shalt thou bear my greeting, and bid him to mourn

alway

The shame I bare as my portion when I rode from his court

away. 580

A maiden who smiled upon me for my sake was smitten sore--

Of all that in life e'er grieved me naught ever hath grieved

me more!

And that maid shalt thou tell of my sorrow; and thy pledge to

her hand shalt yield,

And do even as she shall bid thee--Or die here on this

foughten field!'

'So, if here I must choose betwixt them, not long shall my

choice delay,' 585

Spake the King of Brandigan swiftly, 'From hence will I ride

straightway!'

But his oath did he swear ere he parted whom pride had in

peril brought.

Then Parzival, the hero, for his wearied charger sought,

And his foot touched nor horse nor stirrup as he light to the

saddle sprung,

And his steed the hewn shields' splinters around him in

circles flung. 590

And the Burgers I ween were joyful--but their foemen were sad

and sore,

For flesh and bone were wearied, and sorrow of heart they

bore.

And they brought King Klamidé wounded to those who might give

him aid,

And the dead on the bier they bare them, and to rest in the

grave they laid.

From many a guest unwelcome the land at last was freed, 595

And the gallant King Klamidé to Löver he rode with speed.

Now it fell at this time King Arthur and the knights of the

Table Round,

And many another hero, at Dianasdron were found.

And in sooth no lie I tell ye when I say that this plain so

good

Bare of tent-poles a greater number than the trees in

Spessart's wood. 600

For 'twas ever the wont of King Arthur the high feast of

Pentecost

To keep with his knights and vassals, and of maidens a goodly

host.

There were many a noble banner, and many a warlike shield

With coat of arms emblazoned, and fair tents stood adown the

field;

'Twould be thought of the world a marvel, who should make all

the travelling gear 605

For such wondrous host of ladies as those that were gathered

here!

And I think me that never a maiden but had counted it to her

shame

If no knight mid the knights around her she might as her

lover claim!

Came I myself to such gathering, an such youthful knights

were there,

I were loth if my wife beside me thro' such tumult were fain

to fare-- 610

(Nay, when folk thus come together far liefer were I away)

May be one might speak unto her, and some such words would

say--

'With love of her was he smitten, and ne'er might he healing

know

Save that she herself should heal him. Yea, an but her will

were so,

Her knight would he be for ever, to serve her his whole life

long' 615

I were swift, with my wife beside me, to flee from such

foolish throng!

Yet enough of myself have I spoken--Now hear how King

Arthur's tent

Might be known apart from the others; before it on gladness

bent

He feasted, the king, with his vassals whose hearts never

falsehood knew,

And with many a stately maiden, whose thoughts aye to

jousting flew, 620

As if with darts they sported, and their friend 'gainst the

foe would aim,

And if ill befell their hero with sweet words to his aid they

came.

Then the youthful King Klamidé in the ring would he bridle

draw;

His steel-clad limbs and charger the wife of King Arthur saw,

His helmet and good shield cloven her maidens they saw right

well-- 625

So he came to the court, (who had sent him small need have I

here to tell.)

So sprang he adown from his charger, and they thronged him on

either hand

Ere he came where she sat whom he sought for, Kunnewaaré of

fair Lalande.

And he spake, 'Art thou she, O Lady, to whom I owe service

fair?

(Yet need doth in part constrain me) from the Red Knight I

greeting bear, 630

He willeth to take upon him the shame that thy lot hath been;

He prays that King Arthur mourn it--Thou wast smitten for him

I ween,

Here, Lady, my pledge I bring thee, so my victor hath bidden

me,

Else my body to death were forfeit--I will do here as

pleaseth thee!'

Then the maiden Kunnewaaré by his hand led the gallant knight 635

Where Queen Guinevere was seated, she ate with her maidens

bright;

And Kay uprose from the table as the tidings he needs must

hear,

They brought gladness to Kunnewaaré, but to Kay had they

wrought but fear.

And he quoth, 'What he speaketh, Lady, who thus unto thee

hath sped

He speaketh perforce, yet I think me he greatly hath been

misled! 640

I thought but to teach thee better, yet for this cause thou

hatest me!

Now bid thou this knight disarm him, for his standing

o'er-long shall be.'

Then she bade him put off his helmet and visor, the maiden

true,

And e'en as the bands were loosened Klamidé the king they

knew,

And Kingron he looked upon him, and he saw his lord again, 645

And he wrung his hands in his anguish till as dry twigs they

cracked amain.

Then the seneschal of Klamidé, from the table he sprung

straightway,

And he asked of his lord the tidings; and joyless was he that

day,

For he spake, 'I am born to sorrow; I have lost such a

gallant host,

No man that was born of woman, I think me shall more have

lost. 650

And the load of such bitter sorrow lieth heavy upon my

breast,

And joy is to me a stranger, and gladness a fleeting guest!

And grey am I grown for the anguish she hath wrought me,

Kondwiramur,--

Yea, the sorrow of Pontius Pilate, and false Judas who

evermore

Must grieve for his faithless dealings, who did Christ unto

death betray, 655

What of punishment God layeth on them that woe would I bear

alway--

If so be that the Lady of Brobarz were my wife of goodwill

and free,

And mine arms held her fast, I had recked not what hereafter

should chance to me.

But, alas! for her love is withholden from the ruler of

Iserterre,

And my land and my folk henceforward for her sake shall

sorrow bear. 660

Mine uncle's son, Mabonagrein, for her love long hath

suffered pain;

And by knightly hand constrainèd in thy court I, O king, draw

rein!

And well dost thou know in my kingdom much harm have I done

to thee,

Forget that, true knight and faithful, from thy hate do thou

set me free

Since here I abide, a captive--And this maiden my life shall

shield, 665

Since I stand in her sight, her servant, and my pledge to her

hand would yield!'

Then of knightly heart King Arthur forgave him as he would

pray,

And with faithful words, and kindly, showed favour to him

that day.

Far and wide did they tell the tidings how the King of

Brandigan

Rode hither, and man and maiden in thronging crowds they ran. 670

Then the king he would crave a comrade, and he spake out with

joyless mien,

'Commend me unto Sir Gawain, if thou deemest me worth, O

Queen!

Well I know that he would desire it, and if he thy word obey,

Then he honoureth thee, and the Red Knight shall win praise

at his hand to-day.'

Then King Arthur he bade his nephew deal well with the

captive king, 675

(Tho' I wot well, without his bidding, Sir Gawain had done

this thing.)

And the conquered knight, in whose dealings no falsehood had

part or share,

From the vassals and gallant heroes won a welcome both fit

and fair.

Then Kingron he spake in sorrow, 'Alas! that I needs must see

The day when in Breton dwellings my king shall a captive be! 680

For richer wert thou than Arthur, and of vassals a greater

host

Hath served thee, nor strength was lacking, and of youth

canst thou make thy boast.

Shall men count it to _Arthur's_ honour that Kay in his wrath

did smite

A princess whose heart hath shown her the wisdom to choose

aright,

And smile upon one whom henceforward all men may with truth

proclaim 685

Elect to the highest honour and crown of true knightly fame?

The tree of their fame these Bretons may deem to have waxen

high;

Dead lay Cumberland's king, but I wot well be by no deed of

theirs must die!

Nor the fame shall be theirs that, my master, thou didst

yield to that self-same knight,

Or that I myself have been vanquished in fair and open fight; 690

And the sparks sprang bright from our helmets, and our swords

clave the whistling air

As for life and death we battled, and men looked on our

combat fair.'

Then all at the good Round Table, both rich and poor alike,

With one voice spake that Kay did evil when a maiden he

thought to strike.

But now will we leave their story, and fare back unto

Pelrapär 695

Where Parzival reigned as monarch; the waste lands were

builded fair,

And joy was their lot and singing, (and red gold and jewels

bright

King Tampentäre left in the city where awhile he had reigned

in might)

Then rich gifts he gave till men loved him for his knightly

hand and free;

New shields and costly banners the pride of his land should

be, 700

And many a joust and Tourney did he and his heroes ride.

And e'en on the distant borders in gallant deeds he vied,

That hero young and dauntless, and no foeman might e'er deny

That on battle-field or in Tourney his hand won the victory.

And now of the queen would I tell ye--What lot might ye hold

so fair 705

As hers, that gentle lady? In earth's joys had she fullest

share.

Her love it might bud and blossom, nor weakness nor wavering

show,

For the worth of her lord and husband her heart scarce might

fail to know.

And each found their life in the other, and each was the

other's love.

If, as saith the tale, they were parted, what grief must each

true heart move! 710

And I mourn for that gentle lady, her body, her folk, her

land,

(So he won of her love the guerdon) had he freed with his

strong right hand.

Thus courteous he spake one morning (and the knights stood

their lord beside),

'Lady, an it so please thee, give me leave that I hence may

ride

And see how my mother fareth, if weal be her lot, or woe, 715

For naught of all that befalls her methinks I for long may

know.

For a short space would I go thither; and if ventures my

skill approve

Therewith would I do thee service, and be worthy my lady's

love.'

Thus he spake, and the story telleth she thought not to say

him 'Nay,'

For she deemed it well; from his vassals all lonely he took

his way. 720

BOOK V

ANFORTAS

ARGUMENT

Book V. tells of the wonderful adventure of the Grail Castle; how

Parzival met with the Fisher King, and became his guest; and of

the

great feast in the hall of Monsalväsch. How Parzival saw the

bleeding

spear, and all the marvels of the Grail, and how be asked no

question.

How he in the morning found the palace deserted, and was mocked

by the

squire as he rode away. Of Parzival meeting with Siguné, and how

she

reproached him for his silence. Of Orilus and Jeschuté; of the

fight

between the heroes; and of Parzival's oath. How Orilus and his

wife

were made friends again, and of their welcome at the court of

King

Arthur.

BOOK V

ANFORTAS

Now he who would hear what befell him who thus for ventures

sought,

Shall hearken many a marvel ere the tale to an end be wrought

Let the son of Gamuret ride forth, and all ye good folk and

true

Wish him well, for bitter sorrow this hero hereafter knew,

Tho' honour and joy should crown him--And sorely his heart

did grieve 5

That the wife he loved so dearly he now for a space must

leave.

For the mouth never read of woman, and never hath tale been

told

Of a fairer wife and truer, and his heart did she captive

hold,

And his spirit so high was troubled by thoughts of his wife

and queen--

Had courage not been his birthright he had lost it ere this,

I ween! 10

O'er rock and marshy moorland, with loosened reins the steed

Dashed free, the rider thought not to guide or check its

speed.

Of a truth the venture telleth, so far did he ride that day

E'en a bird had been outwearied, and its flight were fain to

stay.

An the tale hath not betrayed me, no further the knight did

fare 15

When Ither he slew, or from Graharz rode swift unto Pelrapär.

Now hear ye what chanced unto him; he came at the close of

day

To a water fair, and upon it many boats at anchor lay,

And the fishers were lords of the water; to the shore did

they lie so near

That e'en as they saw him riding his question they well might

hear. 20

And one he saw in a vessel all clad in such royal pride

Scarce richer had been his vesture were he lord of the world

so wide;

Of peacock's plumes his head-gear--Then the knight to the

Fisher spake

And he prayed him for knighthood's bidding, and he prayed him

for God's dear sake,

To help him unto a shelter where he might thro' the night

hours rest. 25

And the Fisher sad he answered in this wise the stranger

guest;

And he quoth, 'Nay, Sir Knight, I know not for full thirty

miles around,

By land alike or water, where dwelling may yet be found

Save one house, I would bid thee seek it, for it lieth in

sooth anear,

Thro' the livelong day wert thou riding none other thou

findest here. 30

Ride there to the high cliff's ending, then turn thee to thy

right hand

Until to the moat thou comest, and thy charger perforce must

stand;

Then bid thou the castle warder to let the drawbridge fall

And open to thee the portals, then ride thou unto the hall.'

Then he did as the Fisher bade him, and leave would he

courteous pray, 35

But he quoth, 'I myself will thine host be, an thou fail not

to find the way,

Be thy thanks then as is our tendance--As thou ridest around

the hill

Have a care lest the wood mislead thee, such mischance would

but please me ill.'

Then Parzival turned his bridle, and gaily he took his way,

Nor missed he the path till before him the moat of the castle

lay; 40

And the drawbridge was raised, and the fortress it lacked not

for strength I trow,

As a turner with skill had wrought them stood the turrets in

goodly row.

But with wings, or on winds of heaven uplifted, might ye have

won

To that Burg, an a foeman stormed it little harm he methinks

had done.

And so strong were the towers and the palace that its folk

they had held the hall 45

And mocked at the foe, if all armies thirty years long beset

the wall.

Then a squire looked forth from the castle, of the knight was

he well aware,

And he asked whence he came? and wherefore he thought to

their Burg to fare?

And Parzival spake, ''Tis the Fisher who hath bidden me ride

to thee,

With all courtesy have I thanked him for the shelter he

proffered free, 50

'Tis his will that the bridge be lowered, and I ride here the

Burg within.'

'Sir Knight thou shalt here be welcome, and thy way to the

Burg shalt win

Since the Fisher so spake--And honour would we shew unto thee

his guest!'

Then the squire he let fall the drawbridge, for so was their

lord's behest.

So the hero came to the fortress, to a courtyard so broad and

wide, 55

By knightly sports untrodden--Nor oft would they Tourneys

ride,

(By short green turf was it covered) and but seldom with

banners bright

As on Abenberg's field did they ride there, as fitting for

gallant knight.

'Twas long since they might disport them in such pastimes of

warlike skill,

For sorrow lay heavy on them, and mirth it beseemed them ill. 60

But little the guest should rue that, for knights both old

and young,

They welcomed him with all honour, and swift to his bridle

sprung.

And pages of noble breeding laid their hands on his bridle

rein,

And others would hold his stirrup as the knight to dismount

was fain.

And the knights they prayed him enter, and they led him where

he might rest, 65

And with ready hands and skilful of his armour they freed the

guest,

And they looked on the beardless hero, and they saw his face

so fair,

And they spake, of a truth Good Fortune and blessing should

be his share.

Then he bade them to bring him water, and the rust-stains he

washed away

From face and hands, and they saw him as the light of a

second day, 70

So he sat in all eyes lovely--Then a mantle rich they brought

Of silk of Araby fashioned, and flaw therein was there

naught;

And he laid it around his shoulder, that hero so fair and

bright,

But the clasp did he leave unfastened, and with one voice

they praised the knight.

'Repanse de Schoie, our lady and queen, did this mantle

bear,' 75

Quoth the chamberlain, 'She hath lent it while fit robes they

for thee prepare.

And I feared not this boon to ask her since it seemeth sure

to me

That a gallant man and faithful, Sir Knight, thou shalt prove

to be!'

'God reward thee who lookest on me with such true and

trusting heart,

Methinks, an thou seest rightly, Good Fortune shall be my

part, 80

Yet I wot well such gifts come only from the power of God on

high.'

Then gladly they pledged the hero, and in honour and loyalty

They who sorrowed with him were joyful; far more had they

there, I ween,

Than at Pelrapär, when his right hand their shelter from

grief had been!

Then sadly he thought, as his harness the squires on one side

would bear, 85

That in knightly joust and Tourney he here might find little

share.

Then one to the host would call him, and fast came his words

and free,

And boldly he spake to the stranger, yea, e'en as in wrath

might be.

With his life had he nigh paid forfeit to Parzival's youthful

pride,

For he laid his hand to his sword-hilt--When he found it not

by his side 90

Then he clenched his fist so tightly that the clasp rung the

blood-drops red

From beneath his nails, and crimson to the sleeve of his robe

they spread.

'Nay, nay,' quoth the knights, 'be not wrathful, for fain

would he make us smile,

He hath licence to jest, and with jesting our sadness would

he beguile.

Show thy courtesy here towards him, nor be wroth for a

foolish word, 95

That the Fisher hath come to the castle, naught else shalt

thou here have heard.

Now do thou to our lord betake thee, here art thou an

honoured guest,

And the load of thy heavy anger be banished from off thy

breast.'

To the palace hall they gat them, where a hundred crowns hung

low

With many a taper laden; round the walls shone the tapers'

glow. 100

And beneath stood a hundred couches, with a hundred cushions

fair,

And each of these goodly couches four knights should between

them share.

And betwixt each twain of the couches an open space was

found,

And before each there lay a carpet of cunning work fashioned

round.

Thereto had he wealth in plenty, King Frimutel's son and

heir: 105

And one thing had they not forgotten, nor their gold did they

think to spare,

For within the hall were builded three hearths of marble

rare,

With skill and wisdom fashioned, and each hearth stood

four-square,

And the wood was Lignum aloe, and so great a fire, I ween,

Ne'er hath burnt on the hearth at Wildberg--Such things have

aye costly been. 110

And the host had bid them lay him on a costly folding bed

'Fore the central hearth; and gladness from before his face

had fled,

And his life was but a dying--Parzival the hero fair

In the hall found kindly welcome from him who had sent him

there.

Then his host bade him stand no longer, but be seated his

couch anear, 115

'Yea, here by my side, didst thou seat thee yet further from

me, I fear

'Twere treating thee as a stranger'--In this wise to his

gallant guest

Spake the host thus rich in sorrow, whose heart was by grief

opprest.

And the host he craved thro' his sickness great fires, and

warm robes would wear

Both wide and long, and with sable were they lined and

garnished fair. 120

And the poorest skin was costly, and black was its hue and

grey;

And a cap of the self-same fashioned he wore on his head that

day,

'Twas within and without of sable, with bands of Arabian gold

Wrought around, and a flashing ruby in the centre might all

behold.

Now many brave knights they sat there, and grief passed their

face before, 125

For a squire sprang swift thro' the doorway, and a lance in

his hand he bore,

(And thus did he wake their weeping) from the point did the

blood run fast

Adown to the hand of the holder till 'twas lost in his sleeve

at last.

And then thro' the lofty palace was weeping and wailing sore,

The folk of thirty kingdoms could scarce have bemoaned them

more. 130

And thus to each of the four walls with the lance in his hand

he drew,

Till he reached once again the doorway, and passed him the

portal thro'.

And stilled was the lamentation, and the grief that this folk

must know

When the squire bare the lance before them, and thus bade

them to think on woe.

(An here ye be not outwearied I gladly would tell the tale, 135

How the feast in this Burg was ordered, for in courtesy

naught did fail.)

At the end of the hall a doorway of steel did they open fair,

And two noble children entered--Now hearken what guise they

bare,

An a knight for love would serve them, with love they his

task might pay,

Two fair and gracious maidens as e'er man might woo were

they. 140

And each wore on her hair loose flowing, a chaplet of

blossoms bound

With silken band, beneath it their tresses sought the ground.

And the hand of each maiden carried a candlestick all of

gold,

And every golden socket did a burning taper hold.

Nor would I forget the raiment these gentle maidens ware, 145

For one was Tenabroc's countess, ruddy-brown was her robe so

fair,

And the self-same garb wore the maiden who beside the

countess paced,

And with girdles rich and costly were they girt round each

slender waist.

And behind them there came a Duchess and her fellow; of ivory

white

Two stools they bare, and glowing their lips e'en as fire is

bright. 150

Then they bowed, the four, and bending, the stools 'fore the

host they laid,

Nor was aught to their service lacking, but fitly their part

they played.

Then they stood all four together, and their faces were fair

to see,

And the vesture of each fair maiden was like to the other

three.

Now see how they followed swiftly, fair maidens twice told

four, 155

And this was I ween their office, four tapers tall they bore;

Nor the others deemed too heavy the weight of a precious

stone,

And by day the sun shone thro' it, and as Jacinth its name is

known.

'Twas long and broad, and for lightness had they fashioned it

fair and meet

To serve at will for a table where a wealthy host might eat. 160

And straight to the host they stepped them, and they bowed

their fair heads low,

And four laid the costly table on the ivory white as snow,

The stools they had placed aforetime--and courteous they

turned aside,

And there by their four companions stood the eight in their

maiden pride.

And green were the robes of these maidens, green as grass in

the month of May, 165

Of Samite in Assagog woven, and long and wide were they.

At the waist were they girt with a girdle, narrow, and long,

and fair,

And each of these gentle maidens ware a wreath on her shining

hair.

Now Iwan, the Count of Nonel, and Jernis, the lord of Reil,

To the Grail were their daughters summoned from many a

distant mile. 170

And they came, these two princesses, in raiment wondrous

fair,

And two keen-edged knives, a marvel, on cloths did those

maidens bear.

Of silver white and shining were they wrought with such

cunning skill,

And so sharp, that methinks their edges e'en steel might they

cut at will.

And maidens four went before them, for this should their

office be 175

To bear lights before the silver; four children from

falsehood free.

Six maidens in all they entered and took thro' the hall their

way,

Now hearken, and I will tell ye the service they did that

day.

They bowed, and the twain who carried the silver they laid it

low

On the Jacinth, and courteous turning to the first twelve in

order go. 180

And now, have I counted rightly, here shall eighteen maidens

stand;

And lo! see six more come hither in vesture from distant

lands,

Half their robes were of silk, gold inwoven, half of silk of

Nineveh bright,

For both they and the six before them, parti-coloured their

robes of light.

And last of those maids a maiden, o'er the others was she the

queen, 185

So fair her face that they thought them 'twas the morning's

dawn, I ween!

And they saw her clad in raiment of Pfellel of Araby,

And she bare aloft on a cushion of verdant Achmardi

Root and blossom of Paradise garden, that thing which men

call 'The Grail,'

The crown of all earthly wishes, fair fulness that ne'er

shall fail! 190

Repanse de Schoie did they call her, in whose hands the Grail

might lie,

By the Grail Itself elected was she to this office high.

And they who would here do service, those maids must be pure

of heart,

And true in life, nor falsehood shall have in their dealings

part.

And lights both rare and costly before the Grail they bore 195

Six glasses tall, transparent--and wondrous balsam's store

Burnt within with a strange sweet perfume; with measured

steps they came,

And the queen bowed low with the maidens who bare the

balsam's flame.

Then this maiden free from falsehood, the Grail on the

Jacinth laid,

And Parzival looked upon her, and thought of the royal maid 200

Elect to such high office, whose mantle he needs must wear.

Then the seven courteous turned them to the eighteen maidens

fair,

And the noblest they placed in the centre, and twelve on

either side

They stood, but the crownèd maiden no beauty with hers had

vied!

And as many knights as were seated around that palace hall, 205

So to each four was there a server, with golden beaker tall,

And a page so fair to look on who bare a napkin white--

Riches enow, I trow me, had ye seen in the hall that night!

And they bare there a hundred tables, at each table four

knights would eat,

And swiftly they spread them over with coverings fair and

meet. 210

The host himself took water, and heavy at heart was he,

And Parzival, too, he washed him, for so should the custom

be.

A silken towel, bright coloured, a count's son would proffer

fair,

Swift to the guest he gat him, and knelt low before him

there.

And wherever there stood a table there four squires were

ready dight 215

To serve the four who sat there, and their service they knew

aright,

For twain would carve, low kneeling, and twain to the knights

would bear

Of food and drink as needful, and thus for their wants would

care.

Now hearken ye greater riches--on wheelèd cars were rolled

To every knight in order, fair vessels of wroughten gold, 220

And four knights set them on the tables, and with each ye a

steward might see

To aid them, and claim the vessels when the feast at an end

should be.

Now hearken another marvel--to a hundred squires they spake,

And they bade them in fair white napkins the bread from the

Grail to take.

And straightway they went, and to each knight at each table

the bread they bare; 225

As I heard so I tell unto ye, and the truth ye, each one,

shall swear,

'Twas the Grail Itself that fed them, and before the Grail

did stand

What of food or drink desiring, each one might stretch forth

his hand.

(Would I here betray another then in sooth ye shall lie with

me)

Food warm or cold, or dishes that known or unknown shall be, 230

Food wild or tame--Such riches ye never on earth shall find,

So many have said, yet I think me that folly doth rule their

mind--

For the Grail was the crown of blessing, the fulness of

earth's delight,

And Its joys I right well may liken to the glories of

Heaven's height!

Then they brought in small golden vessels that which every

man should need 235

Of sauces, or salt, or pepper--would one sparely or fully

feed,

Yet each found enough--and courteous they bare to each noble

guest;

And red wine and sweet drinks luscious, each one as he liked

him best

Might speak the word, and proffer the cup, and behold! 'twas

filled

By the power of the Grail--Thus the hunger of that gallant

host was stilled, 240

And the Grail Itself sustained them, and Parzival wondering

saw

The riches and mighty marvels, yet to question his host

forbore.

And he thought, 'Gurnemanz he bade me, in truth, without

thought of guile,

To withhold my lips from question--If here I abide awhile

Methinks it will then befall me as aforetime in Graharz land, 245

They will tell me, without my question, how here with this

folk it stands.'

Then e'en as he sat thus musing came a squire who a sword did

bear,

And its sheath was a thousand marks' worth, and its hilt was

a ruby rare,

And the blade, it might well work wonders--Then the host gave

it to the knight,

And he spake, 'I full oft have borne it in many a deadly

fight 250

Ere God's Hand thus sorely smote me; now with this shalt thou

be repaid

If aught hath in care been lacking--Henceforth shalt thou

bear this blade

Whatever chance befall thee, and when thou its power hast

tried

Thou wilt know thou art fully armèd, whatever strife betide.'

Ah! woe to the guest that asked not, I am sorrowful for his

sake, 255

When his hand clasped the sword 'twas a token that his

silence he well might break.

For the host too my heart is heavy, thus tortured by nameless

woe,

And a question therefrom had freed him, yet to question his

guest was slow.

But now the feast was ended, who the vessels hither bore

Again to their task they turn them, and they bear them forth

once more. 260

The cars again they circle; each maid to her task was fain

From last to first; the noblest she turned to the Grail

again,

To host and guest all-courteous the queen and her maidens

bend,

What they brought they once more would bear forth thro' the

door at the high hall's end.

And Parzival he gazed after, and lo! thro' the open door 265

Within an outer chamber, on a folding couch he saw

The fairest of old men ancient whom ever his eyes had seen,

Grey was he as mists of morning--Nor o'er rash is the tale, I

ween,

Who he was shalt thou know hereafter, when a fitting time

shall be,

The host, his Burg, and his kingdom, yea, all will I name to

ye, 270

And all shall be clear and in order, no halting my tale shall

know;

Methinks that I then shall show ye the bowstring without the

bow.

'Tis a symbol good, the bowstring, for swift as ye deem the

bow,

Yet the shaft that the bowstring speedeth findeth swifter its

aim, I trow!

And not without thought I said it, for the string, it seemeth

me, 275

Is like to the simple story wherewith men well-pleased shall

be;

For it goeth straight to its ending, while he who aside shall

stray,

Tho' his goal at last he reacheth findeth all too long his

way.

When unbent the bow thou sawest, then straight was, I ween,

the string,

From the straight line thou erst must draw it, ere the shaft

to its goal may wing. 280

But he who his story aimeth at the ear of a fool shall find

His shaft go astray, for no dwelling it findeth within his

mind.

Too wide is the road, I think me, and that which he chance to

hear

Ere yet he may know the meaning flies out at the other ear.

Far rather at home I 'ld bide me than in such ears my story

tell, 285

A beast, or a stock, I think me, as a hearer would serve as

well.

But further I fain would tell ye of this people so full of

woe

To whom he had come, our hero, glad song might they seldom

know,

Or sound of dance or of Tourney; so heavy were they at heart

That never a thought of gladness might find in their life a

part, 290

And oft shall the folk be fewer yet of joy shall have fuller

share,

But here every nook was crowded, nor space in the court to

spare.

The host to his guest spake kindly, 'Methinks they thy couch

have spread,

Art thou weary? then list my counsel, and get thee, my guest,

to bed.'

(Now here might I raise my war-cry at the parting betwixt the

twain, 295

For I wot well that bitter sorrow each must from the venture

gain.)

To the side of his host he stepped him, Parzival the fair of

face,

And the Fisher a fair night wished him--Then the knights

stepped each from his place,

And a part drew near towards him, and they led the stranger

guest

Straightway to a sleeping chamber, and goodly should be his

rest. 300

'Twas richly decked for his honour, and the couch it was

spread so fair

That my poverty sorely grieves me since the earth doth such

riches bear.

And that bed knew, I ween, no lacking, and a rich silk above

it lay,

Bright-coloured its hue, and glowing as tho' fire-light did

on it play;

Then Parzival prayed the heroes to get them again to rest, 305

For he saw there but one couch only, and they passed hence at

his behest.

But he lacked not for other service--His fair face and tapers

light

Gave challenge unto each other--What day e'er might shine so

bright?

And before his couch was another, thereon would he take his

seat

While pages drew them nearer, and proffered him service meet. 310

And they bared his white feet comely, and they laid his robes

aside,

And of noble birth were these children, and fair in their

youthful pride.

Then there passed thro' the open doorway four maidens fair

and bright,

They would know if they well had served him, and if soft lay

the stranger knight.

And so the venture telleth, a squire a taper bare 315

Before each gentle maiden--Parzival, that hero fair,

Sprang swift to his couch; then the maidens with gentle voice

they spake,

'Sir Knight, we fain would pray thee for our sake awhile to

wake'--

Yet as children sport with each other had he hidden him from

their sight

Ere yet they might hear his greeting, yet their eyes had

found swift delight, 320

And their heart's desire was quickened at the sight of his

red lips' glow

That for youth were as yet unhidden, for no hair did upon

them grow.

Now hear what they bare, these maidens, three in their hands

so white

Brought syrups sweet, and red wine, and the fourth, that

maiden bright,

Bare fruit that e'erwhile had ripened in the garden of

Paradise 325

On a cloth fair and white, and she knelt low before him that

maiden wise,

And he bade her sit, but she answered, 'Nay, Sir Knight, so

is it best

For else were I sure unworthy to serve such a gallant guest.'

Then he drank and would eat a little, and he spake to them

soft and sweet,

And he laid him adown, and the maidens craved leave of him as

was meet. 330

Then down on the costly carpet the squires set the tapers

bright

When they saw that he slept, and swiftly they gat from the

gallant knight.

Yet Parzival lay not lonely, for until the dawn of day

Heart-sorrow would lie beside him, nor passed with the dawn

away.

And every coming anguish its heralds before would speed, 335

E'en so that the fair youth's vision out-weighed e'en his

mother's need

When she dreamed ere the death of her husband. As a carpet

unrolled his dream,

The centre of fair jousts woven, while the edge was with

swords agleam.

And in slumber his foemen pressed him, and would swiftly upon

him ride;

So fearful his dream that, wakened, thirty times had he

rather died. 340

Thus fear and unrest awoke him, and the sweat streamed from

every limb;

The daylight shone fair thro' the windows, yet no voice had

called on him.

Then he spake, 'Where are now the pages, who stood before me

of late?

Who shall hand unto me my garments?' Then awhile would he

patient wait

Till slumber again o'ercame him; none spake, none aloud would

cry, 345

Vanished the folk--When he wakened the noon-tide sun was

high.

Then he sprang up, and lo! before him on the carpet his

harness lay,

And two swords, his host's gift, and the other from Prince

Ither he bare away.

Then he spake to himself, 'Now wherefore was this done? I

these arms will take,

In sleep I such anguish suffered, methinks that I surely wake 350

To-day to some task of knighthood--If mine host doth some

foeman fear

Then his will will I do right gladly, and faithful her prayer

will hear

Who of true heart this mantle lent me--If my service she

think to take

Then I were for such service joyful; yet not for her sweet

love's sake,

For my wife hath a face as lovely as ever this castle's

queen, 355

Nay more, an the truth be spoken she is fairer far I ween!'

Then he did e'en as seemed him fitting, and he armed himself

for fight

From foot to head, and beside him he girded those swords of

might.

Then forth went the gallant hero, and his steed to the palace

stair

Was bound, shield and spear stood by it, and he joyed as he

found them there. 360

Then ere Parzival, the hero, his charger would mount again,

He sought thro' many a chamber, and he called on the folk

amain,

But none might he see or hearken, and it vexed the knight

full sore,

And wrathful he grew--Yet seeking, the hero he came once more

To where he at eve dismounted when first he the castle found, 365

And the earth and grass were trampled, and the dew brushed

from off the ground.

Then, shouting, he turned, the young knight, once more to his

charger good,

And with bitter words he mounted--Wide open the gateway

stood,

And the track led across the threshold; nor longer he thought

to stay

But he turned his rein, and swiftly to the drawbridge he made

his way, 370

But a hidden hand drew the rope taut, and the forepart it

rose on high

And well-nigh had his charger fallen, then he turned him

right speedily

For fain would he ask the meaning, but the squire cried aloud

in scorn,

'Goose that thou art, ride onward, to the sun's hate hast

thou been born!

Thy mouth hadst thou thought to open, of these wonders hadst

asked thine host, 375

Great fame had been thine--But I tell thee now hast thou this

fair chance lost!'

Then the guest cried aloud for his meaning, but answer he

ne'er might win,

For the squire made as if he slumbered, and the portal he

barred within.

Too early for peace his parting, and the hour it hath brought

him woe,

And he payeth in joy the tribute, nor longer may gladness

know; 380

And doubled the throw of sorrow since here he had found the

Grail,

With his eyes, not his hand, had he cast it, and dice to the

throw should fail.

If by grief he be now awakened such was never his wont of

yore,

For naught had he known but gladness, nor sorrow of heart he

bore.

On the track that he saw before him would Parzival ride

apace, 385

And he thought, 'They who go before me to-day will a foeman

face

And fight for their master's honour; an they knew it, their

ring of might

Methinks would be little weakened if I in their ranks should

fight!

I would waver not, but would aid them whate'er be their need

to-day,

Thus my bread would I earn, and this fair sword, the gift of

my host, repay, 390

Undeserved as yet do I bear it--Sure they hold me for coward

knight!'

Then he turned him, the free from falsehood, where the

hoof-tracks still met his sight,

(And sorely I rue his parting--Now the venture doth grow

apace,)

They had parted who rode before him, and their track he might

scarcely trace,

What aforetime was broad waxed narrow till he lost it nor

found it more 395

And tidings he heard, the hero, that wrought to him sorrow

sore.

For the young knight, rich in courage, heard a woman's voice

make moan.

(On the grass lay the dew of morning.) On a linden there sat

alone

A maiden, whose truth wrought her sorrow, for between her

arms so white

Embalmed did she lifeless hold him who living had been her

knight. 400

Were there one who saw her sorrow and mourned not for her

bitter woe

Then false of heart must I hold him, one who true love might

never know!

Then he turned his steed towards her, tho' as yet unknown was

she,

(Tho' the child of his mother's sister)--As the wind that

fleeteth free

Is all earthly faith to her true love--Then Parzival greeting

spake, 405

'Lady, methinks that sorrow I must bear for thy sorrow's

sake,

An thou needst in aught my service, would it free thee from

further ill,

Then look thou on me as thy servant, thy grief were I fain to

still!'

Then sadly her thanks she bade him, and asked him, 'Whence

camest thou here?

He were ill-advised who his journey should take thro' this

woodland drear. 410

To them who know not its pathways great evil might here

betide.

Yea, oft have I seen and hearkened how men in this wood have

died,

For death was in strife their portion--Turn hence then, thou

gallant knight,

An thou lovest life--Yet tell me in what shelter didst pass

the night?'

'But a mile from here stands a castle, there I thro' the

night abode, 415

And naught have I seen like its riches, from thence in short

space I rode.'

Then the maiden she looked upon him, and she spake, 'Now,

methinks, 'twere ill

With falsehood to thus betray them who trust thee with right

goodwill.

From thy shield art thou here a stranger, and canst naught

but woods have found,

An here thou hast ta'en thy journey from planted and builded

ground, 420

For thirty miles round have they never, for a dwelling, hewn

wood or stone,

Save but for one Burg, in this region that Burg it doth stand

alone.

'Tis rich in all earthly riches, yet he who that castle fair

Would seek, he may never find it, tho' many that quest shall

dare.

Unawares must they chance upon it, for I wot in no other wise 425

Shall that Burg and all that it holdeth be looked on by

mortal eyes.

Sir Knight, _thou_ hast never seen it; Monsalväsch I ween its

name,

Terre de Salväsch the kingdom where its lord the crown may

claim,

And Titurel once bequeathed it to his son King Frimutel,

So they called him, the dauntless hero; much fame to his

portion fell, 430

In a joust was he slain at Love's bidding, and four children

fair he left,

And three, they have store of riches, yet are they of joy

bereft.

And poor is the fourth, for penance hath he chosen this lot I

trow,

Trevrezent is his name--Anfortas, his brother, hath grief

enow,

He can neither stand, nor be seated, nor walk, but must aye

recline, 435

At Monsalväsch he hath his dwelling, the head of that noble

line.'

Then she spake, 'If indeed thou camest to that folk who so

sore doth mourn

Then perchance is their king releasèd from the burden he long

hath borne?'

Out spake the Waleis, 'I saw truly great marvels, and many a

maid

Of beauty rare'--she knew him by his voice ere the words were

said. 440

And she quoth, 'Now indeed I know thee, for in sooth art thou

Parzival!

Didst thou see the mournful monarch? Didst thou see the

wondrous Grail?

Ah! tell me the joyful tidings, may his woe at last be

stilled?

Well is thee that the blessèd journey thou hast ta'en, now

shall earth be filled,

As far as the winds of heaven may blow, with thy fair renown; 445

Naught on earth but shall do thee service, fulfilment each

wish shall crown!'

Then Parzival spake in wonder, 'Say, Lady, whence knowest

thou me?'

And she answered, 'I am that maiden who erewhile made her

plaint to thee,

I am she who thy name first told thee, near of kin to that

gracious queen

Thy mother, of all earth's blossoms the fairest flower, I

ween, 450

Tho' a flower that the dew ne'er nourished! May God reward

thee well

Who didst truly mourn my hero who in knightly combat fell.

See, here in my arms I hold him, now think thou upon the woe

God hath laid for his sake upon me who too short a life must

know;

Rich was he in all manly virtues, his death it has wrought me

pain, 455

And day by day as it dawneth reneweth my plaint again!

'Alas! is it thou, Siguné? Say, where are thy lips so red

That gave me to wit so truly who I was? From thy youthful

head

Have thy locks so brown and waving been shorn since I saw

thee last;

Then wert thou still fair to look on, tho' sorrow might hold

thee fast, 460

Now pale art thou waxed and feeble, such friendship, methinks

with woe

Had vexed me too much, hear my counsel, and bury this dead

knight low!'

Great tears bedewed her garments, for ne'er to that maiden

fair

Had any given such counsel as Lunete to her lady bare.

(This rede did she give to her lady, 'Let him live who thy

lord hath slain, 465

Thou shalt in his love hereafter amends for thy sorrow

gain.')

Not such was the will of Siguné, as maidens of wavering mind,

(On their names I had best keep silence) here the tale of

true love ye'll find.

Then she spake, 'If joy e'er befall me that shall be when I

know relief

Is his, who so long hath suffered, when is lightened his load

of grief. 470

If thro' _thee_ he hath found this succour then in truth

shall all praise be thine;

Methinketh e'en now at thy girdle do I see his sword to

shine--

If its magic spell thou knowest then to strife mayest thou

fearless fare,

For its edge is keen--Its maker a noble name doth bear,

Trebuchet's hand hath wrought it; by Karnant there flows a

spring, 475

And '_Lac_' from the name of that streamlet methinks is he

named, the king.

The sword will withstand the first blow, at the next it will

break in twain,

An thou to these waters bring it from their flow 'twill be

whole again.

Yet where at its source the streamlet flows forth from its

rocky bed,

Shalt thou seek those healing waters ere the sun stand high

overhead. 480

_Lac_ is the name of that fountain--If unsplintered shall be

the blade

Then press thou its halves together, from the waters shall it

be made,

Not whole alone, but stronger the blade and the edge shall

grow,

Nor their brightness and fair adorning be dimmed by the

water's flow.

Yet a spell thou first must master, ere thou draw that sword

of might, 485

Thou hast left it behind, I fear me! Hast thou learnt its

words aright,

Then in truth all earthly blessings shall blossom and bear

for thee--

Believe me, dear my cousin, what of marvels thou there

couldst see,

To thine hand shall they all do service; the crown of

blessings fair

Uplifted o'er all earth's noblest henceforward thine head

shall bear. 490

And thine is desire's fulfilment, and none with thy wealth

and might

May measure himself, if the question hath won at thy lips its

right!'

Then he quoth, 'Nay, I asked no question!' 'Alas I' cried the

mournful maid,

'That ever mine eyes have seen thee, who to question wast

sore afraid!

Such marvels they there have shown thee, yet no word might

they win from thee, 495

When thou sawest the Grail, and those maidens who serve It,

from falsehood free,

Fair Garschiloie, and yet fairer Repanse de Schoie the queen.

Thou hast seen the knives of silver, thou the bleeding spear

hast seen--

Alas! wherefore hast thou sought me? Dishonoured, accurst art

thou

Who bearest wolf's fang empoisoned! And deep in thine heart I

trow 500

Is it rooted, the plant of falsehood, and afresh doth it ever

spring!

Thou shouldst have had pity on him, Anfortas, their host and

king,

And have asked of his bitter sorrow, on whom God hath a

wonder sped,

Now thou livest, and yet I tell thee to bliss art thou

henceforth dead!'

Then he spake, 'Nay, gentle cousin, show kindness to me I

pray, 505

If in aught I have sinned, repentance my sin sure shall put

away!'

'Little good may repentance do thee,' quoth the maiden, 'for

well I know

That thy knightly fame and honour at Monsalväsch were laid

alow.

And never a further answer or word shalt thou win from me.'

Then Parzival turned his bridle and left her right

mournfully. 510

That his lips were so slow to question when he sat by the

mournful king,

To the heart of the gallant hero must sorrow and rueing

bring;

And thus thro' his heavy trouble, and the heat of the

summer's day,

Great sweat-drops stood on his forehead as he rode on his

lonely way.

For the sake of the air he loosened his helmet and visor

band, 515