'If a courteous and knightly bearing but bringeth rewarding stillIn shame, and in this world's mocking, then methinks I was counselled ill!For 'twas Gurnemanz who bade me of questions rash beware,And from words and ways unfitting a courteous knight forbear.Here standeth full many a hero, I pray ye give counsel true,905By your courtesy and knighthood, that your grace I may win anew.Here hath judgment been passed upon me with bitter words and strong—Who withholdeth from me his favour, I deem not he doth me wrong;If perchance, in the days hereafter, fame and honour my lot shall beThen according to those my dealings, I pray ye to deal with me;910But now must I haste far from ye—An oath have ye sworn me hereWhile I stood in the strength of mine honour; of that oath do I hold ye clearTill the day I have won me payment for my fresh joy waxed wan and pale;And my heart shall be home of sorrow, nor tears to mine eyes shall fail,For the day that at far Monsalväsch my labour I left undone,915And myself from all joy I severed, and woe for my guerdon won.Ah God! they were fair, those maidens! and ne'er was there wonder taleThat men told, but as naught its marvels to those of the wondrous Grail!Yet torment so sore, and sighing, are the lot of Its king, alas!Small good hath my coming done thee, thou hapless Anfortas!'920Nor longer the knight might linger, but part they must alway,So turned he unto King Arthur, and leave he fain would prayOf him, his knights, and ladies, with their favour would he depart,And none, I ween, but sorrowed that he rode hence sad at heart.Hand in hand King Arthur sware him, if henceforth his land should bear925Such woe as Klamidé brought him, then the shame he with him would share,And he spake that full sore it grieved him that crowns and kingdoms twain,With the riches that were their portion, Lähelein from the knight had ta'en.And service both true and faithful many sware unto him that day,Ere yet from the court of King Arthur, sorrow-driven, he passed away.930Then the fair maid Kunnewaaré, she took the hero bold,And hence by the hand she led him, and in this wise the tale is told,Sir Gawain he turned and kissed him, and he spake out in manly wiseTo the hero strong and gallant: 'Now thou ridest in warlike guise,And thy feet shall be swift to battle—God guide thee upon thy way,935And give me such strength to serve thee as my heart shall be fain alway.'But Parzival cried, 'Woe is me! Who is He, this mighty God?Had He power, then methinks our portion had ne'er been this shame abhorred!Small power shall be His! I served Him from the day I first knew His grace,Henceforth I renounce His service; doth He hate me, His hate I'll face!940And, friend, in thine hour of peril, as thy shield may awife'slove stand,Dost thou know her for pure and holy, then the thought of her guide thine hand,And her love from all evil guard thee,—as I wish, may it be to thee,For little I wot of the future, if thy face I again may see!'And their parting it brought them sorrow, for comrades in ill were they.945With the maiden Kunnewaaré, to her tent must he take his way.And she bade them bring his harness; with her hands so soft and white,She bound the armour on him who had served her as faithful knight.And she spake, ''Tis my right to do this, since it is thro' thy deed aloneThat Brandigan's gallant monarch now claimeth me as his own.950For otherwise thy valour but bringeth me grief and pain,Art thou not against sorrow armèd, then thy loss shall outweigh my gain!'For battle decked was his charger, and his sorrow must wake to life,And fair was the knight to look on; and the harness he bare for strifeKnew never a flaw, but was costly, and as sunshine 'twas white and fair,955And radiant with gold and jewels the corslet and coat he ware,But the helmet alone was lacking—ere he bound it upon his head,In the self-same hour he kissed her, Kunnewaaré, the gracious maid.And this of the twain was told me, that the parting was sore to see'Twixt those two who loved each other in all honour and loyalty.960So hence let him ride, our hero, and what ventures a man may tellHe shall measure them not with the ventures that to Gamuret's son befell.Yet hear ye awhile of his doings, where he journeyed and whence would ride—He who loveth not deeds of knighthood, if counsel he take of prideFor awhile will forget his doings—On thee, Kondwiramur,965On thy fair face and lovely body, thy lover thought evermore.What ventures he dared in thy service as knightly the Grail he sought!Nor tarried he in the seeking but onward his way he fought,The child of fair Herzeleide, and knew not that he was heirTo the glories that he rode seeking, to the Grail and Its palace fair!970Then forth went full many a vassal on a toilsome and weary way,To gaze on the wondrous castle where in magic fetters layFour hundred gracious maidens, and four queens, right fair to see.Château Merveil was the castle; and no hate shall they earn from me,I grudge them naught they may win there! No woman rewardeth me,975For she to whom I do service, from payment hath set me free!Then out spake the Greek, Sir Klias, 'Yea, there was I overthrown!'(And thus in the ears of all men did he frankly the truth make known)'For the Turkowit he thrust me from my charger unto my shame;And four queens who there lie captive the knight unto me did name;980And old are the twain, and the others as yet they shall children be,And the first maid is called Itonjè, and the second shall be Kondrie,And the third she is named Arnivè, and Sangivè the fourth is hight!'Then fain to behold the wonders of that castle was many a knight,Yet their journey brought little profit, for sorrow o'ertook them there.985Yet I mourn not o'ermuch for their sorrow; for he who would labour bear,And strife, for the sake of a woman, for guerdon shall gladness know,Tho' grief shall be mixed with his gladness, and his joy shall be crossed with woe.And I know not the which shall be stronger, or if sorrow shall joy outweigh,But so runneth the world for ever, where Frau Minne she holdeth sway!990Now Gawain he must make him ready, and he girded his armour on,For the strife that afar should wait him, in the kingdom of Askalon.And sad was many a Breton, and ladies and maidens fairOf a true heart did they bemoan them that Gawain must to conflict fare.And orphaned and reft of glory henceforth was the Table Round.995Then Sir Gawain he well bethought him, since victor he would be found,And he bade the merchants bring him good shields both hard and light,And little he recked their colour so they served his need in fight.On laden mules they brought them, and methinks that they sold them dear;And three did he take as his portion—and the hero he chose him here1000Seven chargers well fit for battle, and he chose him as friends so goodTwelve spears of sharp steel of Angram, and the hilts were of hollow wood.They were reeds grown in heathen marshlands, Oraste Gentesein their name.Then Gawain he prayed leave, and rode forth, dauntless, to seek him fame,And with royal hand, for his journey, King Arthur he gave the knight1005Red gold, and rich store of silver, and jewels gleaming bright,And heavy the weight of his treasure—Then the hero rode swift away,And I ween 'twas towards sore peril that his pathway must lead that day.Then she sailed to her distant kingdom, the young Queen Ekuba,I speak of the heathen princess; and they scattered to lands afar1010The folk who awhile abode there, on the fair plain of Plimizöl;And King Arthur and all his courtiers they gat them to Karidöl.Yet first they prayed leave, Klamidé and Kunnewaaré of fair Lalande,And Duke Orilus and his lady, Jeschuté of Karnant.Yet till the third day with Klamidé in the plain did the twain abide,1015And the marriage-feast was holden ere yet from the place they ride.Yet small was the pomp; in his kingdom, I ween, should it greater be.And free was his hand and knightly, and he dealt right courteously,For many a knight at his bidding henceforth must his man remain,And many a wandering minstrel did he gather within his train,1020And he led them into his kingdom, and in honour, rich gifts, and landHe gave unto them, nor churlish would any refuse his hand.Now Duke Orilus and Jeschuté, to Brandigan the twain would fareFor the love that unto Klamidé and Kunnewaaré they bare.For they thought them that fitting honour to their sister they scarce had done1025Till as queen they had seen her crownèd, and set on the royal throne.Now I know well if wise the woman, and true of heart she be,Who seeth this story written, of a sooth will she own to meThat better I speak of women than I spake ofoneerewhile;For true was fair Belakané, and free from all thought of guile,1030For dead was her love, yet lifeless he still o'er her heart did reign.And a dream filled fair Herzeleide with torment of fear and pain.And Queen Guinevere bewailed her full sorely for Ither's death,(And little I grudge her mourning, for no truer knight e'er drew breath).And I wot when King Lac's fair daughter rode forth such a shameful ride1035Then sorely I mourned the sorrow that, guiltless, she must abide.Sore smitten was Kunnewaaré, and torn was her golden hair;Now the twain they are well avengèd, and glory for shame they bear!And he who doth tell this story, he weaveth his ventures fair,And he knoweth right well to rhyme them, in lines that break and pair.1040And fain were I more to tell ye, an she give to my words good heedWho treadeth with feet far smaller than the feet that shall spur my steed!
'If a courteous and knightly bearing but bringeth rewarding stillIn shame, and in this world's mocking, then methinks I was counselled ill!For 'twas Gurnemanz who bade me of questions rash beware,And from words and ways unfitting a courteous knight forbear.Here standeth full many a hero, I pray ye give counsel true,905By your courtesy and knighthood, that your grace I may win anew.Here hath judgment been passed upon me with bitter words and strong—Who withholdeth from me his favour, I deem not he doth me wrong;If perchance, in the days hereafter, fame and honour my lot shall beThen according to those my dealings, I pray ye to deal with me;910But now must I haste far from ye—An oath have ye sworn me hereWhile I stood in the strength of mine honour; of that oath do I hold ye clearTill the day I have won me payment for my fresh joy waxed wan and pale;And my heart shall be home of sorrow, nor tears to mine eyes shall fail,For the day that at far Monsalväsch my labour I left undone,915And myself from all joy I severed, and woe for my guerdon won.Ah God! they were fair, those maidens! and ne'er was there wonder taleThat men told, but as naught its marvels to those of the wondrous Grail!Yet torment so sore, and sighing, are the lot of Its king, alas!Small good hath my coming done thee, thou hapless Anfortas!'920
Nor longer the knight might linger, but part they must alway,So turned he unto King Arthur, and leave he fain would prayOf him, his knights, and ladies, with their favour would he depart,And none, I ween, but sorrowed that he rode hence sad at heart.
Hand in hand King Arthur sware him, if henceforth his land should bear925Such woe as Klamidé brought him, then the shame he with him would share,And he spake that full sore it grieved him that crowns and kingdoms twain,With the riches that were their portion, Lähelein from the knight had ta'en.And service both true and faithful many sware unto him that day,Ere yet from the court of King Arthur, sorrow-driven, he passed away.930
Then the fair maid Kunnewaaré, she took the hero bold,And hence by the hand she led him, and in this wise the tale is told,Sir Gawain he turned and kissed him, and he spake out in manly wiseTo the hero strong and gallant: 'Now thou ridest in warlike guise,And thy feet shall be swift to battle—God guide thee upon thy way,935And give me such strength to serve thee as my heart shall be fain alway.'
But Parzival cried, 'Woe is me! Who is He, this mighty God?Had He power, then methinks our portion had ne'er been this shame abhorred!Small power shall be His! I served Him from the day I first knew His grace,Henceforth I renounce His service; doth He hate me, His hate I'll face!940And, friend, in thine hour of peril, as thy shield may awife'slove stand,Dost thou know her for pure and holy, then the thought of her guide thine hand,And her love from all evil guard thee,—as I wish, may it be to thee,For little I wot of the future, if thy face I again may see!'
And their parting it brought them sorrow, for comrades in ill were they.945With the maiden Kunnewaaré, to her tent must he take his way.And she bade them bring his harness; with her hands so soft and white,She bound the armour on him who had served her as faithful knight.And she spake, ''Tis my right to do this, since it is thro' thy deed aloneThat Brandigan's gallant monarch now claimeth me as his own.950For otherwise thy valour but bringeth me grief and pain,Art thou not against sorrow armèd, then thy loss shall outweigh my gain!'
For battle decked was his charger, and his sorrow must wake to life,And fair was the knight to look on; and the harness he bare for strifeKnew never a flaw, but was costly, and as sunshine 'twas white and fair,955And radiant with gold and jewels the corslet and coat he ware,But the helmet alone was lacking—ere he bound it upon his head,In the self-same hour he kissed her, Kunnewaaré, the gracious maid.And this of the twain was told me, that the parting was sore to see'Twixt those two who loved each other in all honour and loyalty.960
So hence let him ride, our hero, and what ventures a man may tellHe shall measure them not with the ventures that to Gamuret's son befell.Yet hear ye awhile of his doings, where he journeyed and whence would ride—He who loveth not deeds of knighthood, if counsel he take of prideFor awhile will forget his doings—On thee, Kondwiramur,965On thy fair face and lovely body, thy lover thought evermore.What ventures he dared in thy service as knightly the Grail he sought!Nor tarried he in the seeking but onward his way he fought,The child of fair Herzeleide, and knew not that he was heirTo the glories that he rode seeking, to the Grail and Its palace fair!970
Then forth went full many a vassal on a toilsome and weary way,To gaze on the wondrous castle where in magic fetters layFour hundred gracious maidens, and four queens, right fair to see.Château Merveil was the castle; and no hate shall they earn from me,I grudge them naught they may win there! No woman rewardeth me,975For she to whom I do service, from payment hath set me free!
Then out spake the Greek, Sir Klias, 'Yea, there was I overthrown!'(And thus in the ears of all men did he frankly the truth make known)'For the Turkowit he thrust me from my charger unto my shame;And four queens who there lie captive the knight unto me did name;980And old are the twain, and the others as yet they shall children be,And the first maid is called Itonjè, and the second shall be Kondrie,And the third she is named Arnivè, and Sangivè the fourth is hight!'Then fain to behold the wonders of that castle was many a knight,Yet their journey brought little profit, for sorrow o'ertook them there.985Yet I mourn not o'ermuch for their sorrow; for he who would labour bear,And strife, for the sake of a woman, for guerdon shall gladness know,Tho' grief shall be mixed with his gladness, and his joy shall be crossed with woe.And I know not the which shall be stronger, or if sorrow shall joy outweigh,But so runneth the world for ever, where Frau Minne she holdeth sway!990Now Gawain he must make him ready, and he girded his armour on,For the strife that afar should wait him, in the kingdom of Askalon.And sad was many a Breton, and ladies and maidens fairOf a true heart did they bemoan them that Gawain must to conflict fare.And orphaned and reft of glory henceforth was the Table Round.995Then Sir Gawain he well bethought him, since victor he would be found,And he bade the merchants bring him good shields both hard and light,And little he recked their colour so they served his need in fight.On laden mules they brought them, and methinks that they sold them dear;And three did he take as his portion—and the hero he chose him here1000Seven chargers well fit for battle, and he chose him as friends so goodTwelve spears of sharp steel of Angram, and the hilts were of hollow wood.They were reeds grown in heathen marshlands, Oraste Gentesein their name.Then Gawain he prayed leave, and rode forth, dauntless, to seek him fame,And with royal hand, for his journey, King Arthur he gave the knight1005Red gold, and rich store of silver, and jewels gleaming bright,And heavy the weight of his treasure—Then the hero rode swift away,And I ween 'twas towards sore peril that his pathway must lead that day.
Then she sailed to her distant kingdom, the young Queen Ekuba,I speak of the heathen princess; and they scattered to lands afar1010The folk who awhile abode there, on the fair plain of Plimizöl;And King Arthur and all his courtiers they gat them to Karidöl.Yet first they prayed leave, Klamidé and Kunnewaaré of fair Lalande,And Duke Orilus and his lady, Jeschuté of Karnant.Yet till the third day with Klamidé in the plain did the twain abide,1015And the marriage-feast was holden ere yet from the place they ride.Yet small was the pomp; in his kingdom, I ween, should it greater be.And free was his hand and knightly, and he dealt right courteously,For many a knight at his bidding henceforth must his man remain,And many a wandering minstrel did he gather within his train,1020And he led them into his kingdom, and in honour, rich gifts, and landHe gave unto them, nor churlish would any refuse his hand.
Now Duke Orilus and Jeschuté, to Brandigan the twain would fareFor the love that unto Klamidé and Kunnewaaré they bare.For they thought them that fitting honour to their sister they scarce had done1025Till as queen they had seen her crownèd, and set on the royal throne.Now I know well if wise the woman, and true of heart she be,Who seeth this story written, of a sooth will she own to meThat better I speak of women than I spake ofoneerewhile;For true was fair Belakané, and free from all thought of guile,1030For dead was her love, yet lifeless he still o'er her heart did reign.And a dream filled fair Herzeleide with torment of fear and pain.And Queen Guinevere bewailed her full sorely for Ither's death,(And little I grudge her mourning, for no truer knight e'er drew breath).And I wot when King Lac's fair daughter rode forth such a shameful ride1035Then sorely I mourned the sorrow that, guiltless, she must abide.Sore smitten was Kunnewaaré, and torn was her golden hair;Now the twain they are well avengèd, and glory for shame they bear!
And he who doth tell this story, he weaveth his ventures fair,And he knoweth right well to rhyme them, in lines that break and pair.1040And fain were I more to tell ye, an she give to my words good heedWho treadeth with feet far smaller than the feet that shall spur my steed!