'Ope the portal!' 'To whom? Who art thou?' 'In thine heart would I find a place!''Nay! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be the space!''What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my presence be,Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels I'll tell to thee!'Is it thou, then, O Dame Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival,5What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the GrailHath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens fairThat the path of his far wayfarings the knight from their side must bear.So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide to-day?Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray?10Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft,Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left?His renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin?Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win.Hath he seen once again Monsalväsch, and Anfortas, the mournful king,15Whose heart was with sorrow laden? Of thy pity swift comfort bring,And say if his woe be ended—Speak, speak for we tidings prayOf him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day?Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret's son,And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done?20Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe?He hath striven, but rides he ever thro' the wide world nor rest doth know?Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o'er-long at ease?I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please!And this hath the venture told me—He hath ridden many a land,25And hath sailèd many a water; and ever, before his hand,Were he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him, he fell,Nor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises tell.And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe must lie,'Twas outweighed by his fame, and his glory uprose to the stars on high,30And all others paled before it—In many a mighty strifeWith sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his life.And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they paid full dear—The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear,Sprang asunder onewhile, yet 'twas welded afresh in the mystic spring35By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring!Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tellHow adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,(But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,)When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight,40And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er the brooklet's waveThen in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave,Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led.But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped,For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth,45And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love,Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above.Tho' but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass,All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her days she'ld pass.50And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade,And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die,And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly.And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had Lunete braved55Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave.And today may we look upon women, who never a willing earHad turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear.For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone,And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own,60But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true,Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new!And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair!And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear.Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide,65Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!Shall I joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Siguné brought?Nay, 'twere better I speak not of it—O'er rough stones, and a road unwroughtRode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too near).He would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its windings hear.70And he thought him, perchance, the hermit might tell of the unknown way,'Doth one dwell here?' the voice of a maiden it was that made answer,'Yea!'As he knew 'twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his steed asideOn the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too near did ride,And sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt75Within such a lowly dwelling, and shame, as was meet, he felt.Then his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a fallen tree,And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous knight was he.Then he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place and road,And the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as 'seemed grief's abode.80He spake, would she come to the window? and the maiden from prayer arose,She was tall as a virgin lily, and pale as a faded rose,And he deemed not as yet that he knew her—A shirt woven rough of hair,Next her skin, 'neath a flowing garment of grey, did the maiden wear,And sorrow was her heart's treasure, and fallen her courage high,85And the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in many a sigh!Then the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did she courteous greet,In her hand did she hold her psalter, and her voice it was low and sweet.And Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of a ring of gold,For truly she bare the token she won from true love of old.90And the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose slumbering lightFlashed red mid the dusky shadows, as mid ashes the sparks glow bright.And the band that her head encircled was black as a mourning band—Then she spake, 'Sir Knight, 'neath the window a bench shalt thou see to stand,Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey will brook delay,95God reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me this day!'Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat 'neath the window small,And he prayed her, 'Sit thou within there!' 'Nay! ne'er did such chance befallThat here by a man I sat me!' Then he asked her, what did she here?That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in this desert drear100Seemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt thou live,Since no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give?'Then she quoth, ''Tis the Grail that doth feed me, and It feedeth me well I ween,From Its marvels the sorceress Kondrie, (of her own will the task hath been,)Doth bring me each Sabbath vigil what serveth me for the week.'105A little space she kept silence, then further the maid did speak:'An it otherwise were with me as I would, I need little careFor the food, since the Grail doth feed me I never too ill shall fare!'But he deemed that she lied unto him, and with false words would speak himfair, And, mocking, he spake,'Now, who gave thee that ring which I see thee wear?110For ever 'twas told unto me that hermit, or man, or maid,Must forswear all love!'—'Now I think me, if in truth thou these words hast said,For false maiden thou sure dost hold me! Yet if falsehood I ever learn,And thou shalt be near to witness, 'twere timethenwith wrath to burn!God knoweth, ill ways I hated, and falsehood I never knew;115This troth plight that here thou seest I had from a lover true,Tho' never was love's fulfilment our portion while he might live,'Twas the heart of maiden bade me the love of a maiden give.And he lieth in death beside me, and his token I ever wearSince the day that Duke Orilus slew him—and grief for his sake I bear—'120'And true love will I truly give him, thro' my sorrow-laden days,Such love as I sware unto him, when he, whom, all knights must praise,With sword, and shield, and helmet, and prowess of knightly deedSought my love, and in true love's service won death for his glory's meed!Yet tho' ever a spotless maiden, my husband he, in God's sight,125Shall be, and if thoughts God counteth as deeds then is woven arightThe bond that shall ever bind us, true husband and wife as true,For his death wrought my life such sorrow as waxeth for ever new.And this ring shall, I ween, be my witness when I stand in the sight of GodOf a marriage vow and the tear-drops that bedew it are tears of blood.'130'Yea, 'tis I indeed, and none other, and the hero who here doth lieIs my knight, Schionatulander, and the maid of his love am I!'Then he knew 'twas the maid Siguné, and her sorrow it wrought him pain,And he lifted his helmet's visor ere he spake to the maid again.And she saw his head uncovered, and she saw his face gleam white135Thro' the rust of the iron harness, and she spake to the gallant knight:'Is it thou, Parzival, my kinsman? Dost thou seek for the Grail to-day?Or its mighty power hast thou proven? Say, whither dost wend thy way?'Then he spake to the noble maiden, 'Alas! for my joy is fled,And the Grail hath but wrought me sorrow, and mischance in fair fortune's stead.140For the land that as king had crowned me must I leave, and yet more, I ween,The fairest of wives, and the sweetest, that ever a man hath seen.For no lovelier form I think me on earth of mankind was born,And I yearn for her tender greeting, and full sore for her love I mourn!And yet know I a deeper sorrow and I strive for a higher prize,145For the day when the Burg of Monsalväsch, and the Grail shall rejoice my eyes!Now, Siguné, dear my cousin, thou wast all too wroth with me,For heavy indeed my sorrow, yet thou fain wouldst my foeman be!'And she quoth,'From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I forswear,For too much of thy joy lieth forfeit since the question thou didst forbear!150And I would not too sorely grieve thee—Alas I that thou didst withholdThe word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his griefs had toldWho sat there as thine host beside thee—nor thine host alone was he,Anfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to thee!And thy question great bliss had brought thee, and thy silence had wrought thee woe,155And thy spirit shall fail, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade thou well shalt know.And yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had sought thy side,Hadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did its host betide!''Yea, I did there as one who wrongeth himself; yet my cousin dearI prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen near.160And tell me, how fares it with thee? I would sorrow for this thy woeWere my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never know!'Then she quoth, 'May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all men's woe,Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall showThat shall lead thee once more to Monsalväsch, and thine heart's bliss afresh shall spring.165'Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I could tidings bringOf whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg again,Or passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet she draweth rein,Where, from cleft in the high rock riven, the waters flow fresh and clear.It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet anear,170And, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.' Then the knight he made no delayBut farewell did he bid to the maiden; and he followed the woodland way,And fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the mule must chooseThro' the depths of the dusky thicket that its traces he soon must lose.As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again to-day,175And joy and delight fled with It—Yea, had he but found the way,And reached once again Monsalväsch, for better than erst of oldHad he known how to ask the question—thus in sooth is the venture told.So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered head,And blazoned coat o'er his shining harness, full swiftly towards him sped!180And to Parzival thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, I must deem it illThat thus thro' the woods of my monarch thou takest thy way at will!Begone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself far from here!Monsalväsch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls anear,And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor's fame,185Or such penance be thine, as without there, in the open, menDeathshall name!'And he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of silken sheen,Sharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new and strong I ween!And wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain should beHis threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for joust was he;190But many a spear as goodly had splintered 'fore Parzival,And he thought, 'Now, it well had chanced me, that death to my lot should fallIf I rode thro' the corn upstanding—thenreason had he for wrath,Butnowhath he none, since I ride here on naught but a woodland path,And I tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not lose its skill195I will leave him such pledge for my journey as, I think me, shall please him ill!'Then they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged them with spur and rein,As the bolt from the bow of the archer so swift flew those heroes twain,And the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly frayUnscathed had Parzival ridden, and e'en so should it chance to-day.200(Unto skill and the lust of battle must his father's son be heir.)His lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman's helm struck fair,And it smote him where men in jousting their shield are wont to hold,And down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the Templar bold.And the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a rocky dell,205Tho' couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered not over well.But the victor's steed sped onward, and in vain would he check its flightEre it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death the knight.A cedar o'erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast,(Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last,210He hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by his own hand)His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand:Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead,Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled.Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival?215Far better at home in Monsalväsch had he fared with the wondrous Grail!To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar stood,For down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the war-horse good.As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell,Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well.220Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won—Nor Lähelein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e'er had run!Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gurnemanz).Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance,Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalväsch, yet one grief must vex his soul,235He found not the Grail—Ever further he rode, further fled the goal!Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell,Tho' the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir ParzivalHad met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before—One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho' thin was the cloak it bore230Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost;As he rode thro' the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway crossed,And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and fair,And his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did bear.And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey,235For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way.And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men's eyes are fain to see,In like garments they followed barefoot, e'en as pilgrims are wont to be.Then our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his lowly way,And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips that day.240And a prince of the land he seemed him—By each maiden a brachet ran,And with humble mien and reverent paced master alike and man.For both knight and squire they followed on this holy pilgrimage,And some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent low with age.But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise,245In fair raiment, rich and costly, he rode in right knightly guise,And proudly he ware his harness, and unlike were the twain I ween,The old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his armour's sheen!Then swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway side,For fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the knight replied.250But a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy TideShould have failèd to give due honour, but in warlike gear should ride.For better would it befit him unarmèd this day to greet,Or like them to walk barefooted, and in garb for a sinner meet!Quoth Parzival, 'Nay, I know not what the time of the year may be,255Or how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly flee,How the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot such lore!Of old time I served a master, andGodwas the name He bore.But He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking gave,Tho' ne'er had my heart turned from Him—Men said, 'If from God ye crave260For succour, He sure will give it;' but I deem well they spake a lie,For He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny!'Quoth the grey-haired knight, 'Dost thou mean Him who was once of a Maiden born?Dost believe that a Man for men's sake He died on the cross this morn,And this day for His sake we hallow? Then such garb becomes thee ill!265For to-day all men call Good Friday, and the world it rejoiceth stillO'er the day that her chains were riven; tho' she mourneth her Saviour's pain.Speak, knowest thou of faith more faithful than the faith God hath kept with men,Since He hung on the cross for men's sake? Such woe as He bare for thee,Sir Knight, sure must work thee sorrow, since baptized thou shalt surely be!270Foroursin His life was forfeit, or else had mankind been lost,And Hell as his prey had held us, and Hell's torments had paid sin's cost.Sir Knight, if thou be not heathen, thou shalt honour this Holy Day—So do thou as here I counsel, ride thou on this woodland way,For near here a hermit dwelleth, as thy speech, so his rede shall be,275And if ruth for ill deed thou showest of thy sin will he speak thee free!'Then out quoth the old man's daughter, 'Nay, father, but speak not so,For too chill and cold is the morning, thou shalt bid him no further go.Far better to bid him warm him his steel-clad limbs, for strongAnd fair shall he be to look on, and the way is both cold and long.280Methinks were he thrice as mighty he would freeze ere his goal he reach,And here hast thou tent for shelter, and viands for all and each.Came King Arthur and all his vassals thou wouldst still have enough I trow,So do thou as host so kindly, and good-will to this young knight show!'Quoth the grey-haired sire, 'My daughters, Sir Knight, here give counsel good,285Each year, with tent of pilgrim, I wend thro' this lonely wood.If warm or cold be the season I care not, as year by yearThe time of our dear Lord's Passion draweth once more anear,He rewardeth His servant's service—Sir Knight, what I, for His sake,Brought here, as my guest, right willing, I pray thee from me to take!'290And kindly they spake, the maidens, and they bade the knight to stay,And with gracious mien they prayed naught might drive him from them away.And tho' cold was the frost and bitter, and it wrought not as summer's heat,Yet Parzival saw their lips glow so red, and soft, and sweet.(Tho' they wept for the death of the Saviour, such sorrow became them well.)295And here, had I cause for vengeance, an such happy chance befell,I never would speak them guiltless, but a kiss should their penance be,Nor against their will would I take it, of good-will should they give it me!For women shall aye be women, and tho' brave be the knight, and strong,Yet I ween is he oft the vanquished, nor the strife it endureth long!300With sweet words, and ways so gentle, they ever the knight would pray,Children alike and parents, and fain would they have him stay:Yet he thought, 'It were best I leave them, for e'en if I turn asideAll too fair methinks are these maidens, 'twere unfitting thatIshould rideWhiletheyby my side walk barefoot—And 'tis better that we should part,305Since ever I bear Him hatred Whom they worship with lowly heart,And they look for His aid, Who ever hath turnèd His face from me,Nor from sorrow hath He withheld me, but hath wrought with me heavily!''Knight and Lady,' he quoth, 'I think me 'twere better I leave should pray,May good fortune be yours, and blessing, and fulness of joy alway,310And may you, ye gentle maidens, find reward in your courtesy,Since so well ye had thought to serve me, fair leave would I pray from ye!'He greeted them, low they bowed them, and greeted the knight again,Nor might they withhold their sorrow, for parting aye bringeth pain!So the son of Herzeleide rode onward, well taught was he315In all manly skill and courage, in mercy and purity;And his mother had aye bequeathed him her faithful heart and true—Yet ever his soul waxed sadder, and there sprang up thoughts anewOf the might of the Maker of all things, Who hath made this earth of naught,How He dealeth with all creation, and still on His power he thought320'How might it yet be if God sent me that which brought to an end my woe?If ever a knight He favoured, if ever a knight might knowHis payment for service done Him—if He thinketh His aid they earnWho dauntless shall wield their weapons, and ne'er from a foeman turn,Let Him aid me, who bear unstainèd shield and sword as befits a man,325If to-day be His Day of Redemption, let Him help me, if help Hecan.'Backward he turned his bridle on the road he had ridden before,And the knight and his children stood there, and mourned for the parting sore.And the maidens, true and gentle, gazed after the passing knight,And his heart spake, he fain had seen them once more those maidens bright.330Then he spake, 'Is God's power so mighty that He guideth upon their wayThe steed alike and the rider, then His hand may I praise to-day!If God sendeth help from heaven, then let Him my charger showThe goal which shall bless my journey, so shall I the token know.Now, go thou as God shall lead thee!' and bridle and bit he laid335Free on the neck of his charger and spurred it adown the glade.Towards Fontaine-Sauvage the road led, and the chapel where once he swareThe oath that should clear Jeschuté—A holy man dwelt there,And Trevrezent men called him, and ever on Monday mornPoor was his fare, and no richer it waxed as the week wore on.340Nor wine nor bread he tasted, nor food that with blood was red,Fish nor flesh, but his life so holy on the herb of the ground was fed.And ever his thoughts, God-guided, were turning to Heaven's land,And by fasting the wiles of the Devil he deemed he might best withstand.And to Parzival the mystery of the Grail should he now reveal—345And he, who of this hath asked me, and since silence my lips must sealWas wroth with me as his foeman, his anger might naught avail,Since I did but as Kiot bade me, for he would I should hide the tale,And tell unto none the secret, till the venture so far were spedThat the hidden should be made open, and the marvel of men be read.350For Kiot of old, the master whom men spake of in days of yore,Far off in Toledo's city, found in Arabic writ the loreBy men cast aside and forgotten, the tale of the wondrous Grail;But first must he learn the letters, nor black art might there avail.By the grace of baptismal waters, by the light of our Holy Faith,355He read the tale, else 'twere hidden; for never, the story saith,Might heathen skill have shown us the virtue that hidden liesIn this mighty Grail, or Its marvels have opened to Christian eyes.'Twas a heathen, Flegetanis, who had won for his wisdom fame,And saw many a wondrous vision, (from Israel's race he came,360And the blood of the kings of old-time, of Solomon did he share,)He wrote in the days long vanished, ere we as a shield might bearThe cross of our Holy Baptism 'gainst the craft and the wiles of Hell,And he was the first of earth's children the lore of the Grail to tell.By his father's side a heathen, a calf he for God did hold,365How wrought the devil such folly, on a folk so wise, of old?And the Highest Who knoweth all wonders, why stretched He not forth His HandTo the light of His truth to turn them? For who may His power withstand!And the heathen, Flegetanis, could read in the heavens highHow the stars roll on their courses, how they circle the silent sky,370And the time when their wandering endeth—and the life and the lot of menHe read in the stars, and strange secrets he saw, and he spake againLow, with bated breath and fearful, of the thing that is called the Grail,In a cluster of stars was it written, the name, nor their lore shall fail.And he quoth thus, 'A host of angels this marvel to earth once bore,375But too pure for earth's sin and sorrow the heaven they sought once more,And the sons of baptized men hold It, and guard It with humble heart,And the best of mankind shall those knights be who have in such service part'Then Kiot my master read this, the tale Flegetanis told,And he sought for the name of the people, in Latin books of old,380Who of God were accounted worthy for this wondrous Grail to care,Who were true and pure in their dealings and a lowly heart might bear.And in Britain, and France, and Ireland thro' the chronicles he soughtTill at length, in the land of Anjou, the story to light was brought.There, in true and faithful record, was it written of Mazadan,385And the heroes, the sons of his body, and further the story ran,How Titurel, the grandsire, left his kingdom to Frimutel,And at length to his son, Anfortas, the Grail and Its heirdom fell:That his sister was Herzeleide, and with Gamuret she wedAnd bare him for son the hero whose wanderings ye now have read.390For he rideth upon a journey that shall lead him a road unknown,Tho' the grey knight but now had wended his way from the fountain lone.And he knew again the meadow, tho' now the snow lay whiteOn the ground that erst was blooming with flowers of springtide bright.'Twas before the rocky hillside where his hand must wipe away395The stain from Jeschuté's honour, and her husband's wrath allay.Yet still the road led onward, to Fontaine-Sauvage, the nameOf the goal that should end his journey and his hermit host he came.Then out spake the holy hermit, 'Alas, why doest thou so,Sir Knight? at this Holy Season 'tis ill thus armed to go.400Dost thou bear perchance this harness thro' strife and danger dared?Or hast thou unharmèd ridden, and in peace on thy way hast fared?Other robe had beseemed thee better! List not to the voice of pride,But draw thy rein here beside me, and with me for a space abide.Not all too ill shalt thou fare here, thou canst warm thee beside my fire.405Dost thou seek here for knightly venture, and dost guerdon of love desire,If the power of true Love constrain thee, then love Him who Love may claim!As this day to His Love beareth witness, be His service to-day thine aim,And serve for the love of fair women, if it please thee, another day;But now get thee from off thy charger, and awhile from thy wanderings stay.'410Then Parzival, e'en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the ground;Humbly he stood before him, as he told how he folk had foundWho had told of the hermit's dwelling, and the counsel he wisely gave,And he spake, 'I am one who hath sinnèd, and rede at thy lips I crave!'As he spake the hermit answered,'Right gladly I'll counsel thee,415But, say, what folk hast thou met with? Who showed thee thy way to me?'In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he spake,And kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to take,On his track my steed came hither.' Then answered the hermit old,''Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told.420A prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis' kingHath taken to wife—Fairer maidens no mother to earth did bringThan those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon thy road,Of a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode!'Then Parzival spake to the hermit, 'Now say, when thou saw'st me here,425Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no touch of fear?'Quoth the hermit,'Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for stag or bearHave I feared than I feared a man's face, in sooth shalt thou be awareI fear me for no man living! Both cunning and skill have I,And tho' I were loath to vaunt me, yet I ne'er to this life did fly430For fear, as beseems a maiden! For never my heart did quailWhen I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne'er did my courage fail,In the days when such things became me, in the days when I too might fight,I was armèd as thou art armèd, like thee did I ride, a knight!And I strove for high love's rewarding, and many an evil thought435With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I wroughtTo win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,And my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no more.''Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there 'neath the rocky wallThy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall fall,440Will gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may be,Yet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too ill with me!'But Parzival deemed that surely 'twas unfitting a hermit oldShould thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from his hand withhold,'Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive 'gainst thine host's good-will,445Let not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my counsel still.'In this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did the knight,And the charger he led 'neath the hillside where but seldom did sun-rays light.In sooth 'twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed would stall,And thro' it, from heights o'erhanging, foamed ever a water-fall.450
'Ope the portal!' 'To whom? Who art thou?' 'In thine heart would I find a place!''Nay! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be the space!''What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my presence be,Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels I'll tell to thee!'Is it thou, then, O Dame Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival,5What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the GrailHath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens fairThat the path of his far wayfarings the knight from their side must bear.So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide to-day?Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray?10Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft,Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left?His renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin?Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win.Hath he seen once again Monsalväsch, and Anfortas, the mournful king,15Whose heart was with sorrow laden? Of thy pity swift comfort bring,And say if his woe be ended—Speak, speak for we tidings prayOf him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day?Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret's son,And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done?20Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe?He hath striven, but rides he ever thro' the wide world nor rest doth know?Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o'er-long at ease?I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please!And this hath the venture told me—He hath ridden many a land,25And hath sailèd many a water; and ever, before his hand,Were he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him, he fell,Nor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises tell.And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe must lie,'Twas outweighed by his fame, and his glory uprose to the stars on high,30And all others paled before it—In many a mighty strifeWith sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his life.And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they paid full dear—The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear,Sprang asunder onewhile, yet 'twas welded afresh in the mystic spring35By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring!
Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tellHow adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,(But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,)When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight,40And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er the brooklet's waveThen in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave,Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led.But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped,For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth,45And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.
For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love,Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above.Tho' but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass,All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her days she'ld pass.50And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade,And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.
Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die,And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly.And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had Lunete braved55Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave.And today may we look upon women, who never a willing earHad turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear.For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone,And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own,60But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true,Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new!And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair!And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear.Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide,65Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!
Shall I joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Siguné brought?Nay, 'twere better I speak not of it—O'er rough stones, and a road unwroughtRode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too near).He would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its windings hear.70And he thought him, perchance, the hermit might tell of the unknown way,'Doth one dwell here?' the voice of a maiden it was that made answer,'Yea!'As he knew 'twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his steed asideOn the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too near did ride,And sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt75Within such a lowly dwelling, and shame, as was meet, he felt.
Then his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a fallen tree,And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous knight was he.Then he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place and road,And the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as 'seemed grief's abode.80He spake, would she come to the window? and the maiden from prayer arose,She was tall as a virgin lily, and pale as a faded rose,And he deemed not as yet that he knew her—A shirt woven rough of hair,Next her skin, 'neath a flowing garment of grey, did the maiden wear,And sorrow was her heart's treasure, and fallen her courage high,85And the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in many a sigh!
Then the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did she courteous greet,In her hand did she hold her psalter, and her voice it was low and sweet.And Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of a ring of gold,For truly she bare the token she won from true love of old.90And the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose slumbering lightFlashed red mid the dusky shadows, as mid ashes the sparks glow bright.And the band that her head encircled was black as a mourning band—Then she spake, 'Sir Knight, 'neath the window a bench shalt thou see to stand,Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey will brook delay,95God reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me this day!'
Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat 'neath the window small,And he prayed her, 'Sit thou within there!' 'Nay! ne'er did such chance befallThat here by a man I sat me!' Then he asked her, what did she here?That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in this desert drear100Seemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt thou live,Since no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give?'
Then she quoth, ''Tis the Grail that doth feed me, and It feedeth me well I ween,From Its marvels the sorceress Kondrie, (of her own will the task hath been,)Doth bring me each Sabbath vigil what serveth me for the week.'105A little space she kept silence, then further the maid did speak:'An it otherwise were with me as I would, I need little careFor the food, since the Grail doth feed me I never too ill shall fare!'
But he deemed that she lied unto him, and with false words would speak himfair, And, mocking, he spake,'Now, who gave thee that ring which I see thee wear?110For ever 'twas told unto me that hermit, or man, or maid,Must forswear all love!'—'Now I think me, if in truth thou these words hast said,For false maiden thou sure dost hold me! Yet if falsehood I ever learn,And thou shalt be near to witness, 'twere timethenwith wrath to burn!God knoweth, ill ways I hated, and falsehood I never knew;115This troth plight that here thou seest I had from a lover true,Tho' never was love's fulfilment our portion while he might live,'Twas the heart of maiden bade me the love of a maiden give.And he lieth in death beside me, and his token I ever wearSince the day that Duke Orilus slew him—and grief for his sake I bear—'120
'And true love will I truly give him, thro' my sorrow-laden days,Such love as I sware unto him, when he, whom, all knights must praise,With sword, and shield, and helmet, and prowess of knightly deedSought my love, and in true love's service won death for his glory's meed!Yet tho' ever a spotless maiden, my husband he, in God's sight,125Shall be, and if thoughts God counteth as deeds then is woven arightThe bond that shall ever bind us, true husband and wife as true,For his death wrought my life such sorrow as waxeth for ever new.And this ring shall, I ween, be my witness when I stand in the sight of GodOf a marriage vow and the tear-drops that bedew it are tears of blood.'130
'Yea, 'tis I indeed, and none other, and the hero who here doth lieIs my knight, Schionatulander, and the maid of his love am I!'Then he knew 'twas the maid Siguné, and her sorrow it wrought him pain,And he lifted his helmet's visor ere he spake to the maid again.And she saw his head uncovered, and she saw his face gleam white135Thro' the rust of the iron harness, and she spake to the gallant knight:'Is it thou, Parzival, my kinsman? Dost thou seek for the Grail to-day?Or its mighty power hast thou proven? Say, whither dost wend thy way?'
Then he spake to the noble maiden, 'Alas! for my joy is fled,And the Grail hath but wrought me sorrow, and mischance in fair fortune's stead.140For the land that as king had crowned me must I leave, and yet more, I ween,The fairest of wives, and the sweetest, that ever a man hath seen.For no lovelier form I think me on earth of mankind was born,And I yearn for her tender greeting, and full sore for her love I mourn!And yet know I a deeper sorrow and I strive for a higher prize,145For the day when the Burg of Monsalväsch, and the Grail shall rejoice my eyes!Now, Siguné, dear my cousin, thou wast all too wroth with me,For heavy indeed my sorrow, yet thou fain wouldst my foeman be!'
And she quoth,'From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I forswear,For too much of thy joy lieth forfeit since the question thou didst forbear!150And I would not too sorely grieve thee—Alas I that thou didst withholdThe word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his griefs had toldWho sat there as thine host beside thee—nor thine host alone was he,Anfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to thee!And thy question great bliss had brought thee, and thy silence had wrought thee woe,155And thy spirit shall fail, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade thou well shalt know.And yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had sought thy side,Hadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did its host betide!'
'Yea, I did there as one who wrongeth himself; yet my cousin dearI prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen near.160And tell me, how fares it with thee? I would sorrow for this thy woeWere my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never know!'
Then she quoth, 'May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all men's woe,Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall showThat shall lead thee once more to Monsalväsch, and thine heart's bliss afresh shall spring.165'Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I could tidings bringOf whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg again,Or passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet she draweth rein,Where, from cleft in the high rock riven, the waters flow fresh and clear.It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet anear,170And, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.' Then the knight he made no delayBut farewell did he bid to the maiden; and he followed the woodland way,And fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the mule must chooseThro' the depths of the dusky thicket that its traces he soon must lose.As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again to-day,175And joy and delight fled with It—Yea, had he but found the way,And reached once again Monsalväsch, for better than erst of oldHad he known how to ask the question—thus in sooth is the venture told.
So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered head,And blazoned coat o'er his shining harness, full swiftly towards him sped!180And to Parzival thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, I must deem it illThat thus thro' the woods of my monarch thou takest thy way at will!Begone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself far from here!Monsalväsch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls anear,And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor's fame,185Or such penance be thine, as without there, in the open, menDeathshall name!'And he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of silken sheen,Sharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new and strong I ween!And wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain should beHis threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for joust was he;190But many a spear as goodly had splintered 'fore Parzival,And he thought, 'Now, it well had chanced me, that death to my lot should fallIf I rode thro' the corn upstanding—thenreason had he for wrath,Butnowhath he none, since I ride here on naught but a woodland path,And I tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not lose its skill195I will leave him such pledge for my journey as, I think me, shall please him ill!'
Then they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged them with spur and rein,As the bolt from the bow of the archer so swift flew those heroes twain,And the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly frayUnscathed had Parzival ridden, and e'en so should it chance to-day.200(Unto skill and the lust of battle must his father's son be heir.)His lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman's helm struck fair,And it smote him where men in jousting their shield are wont to hold,And down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the Templar bold.And the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a rocky dell,205Tho' couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered not over well.
But the victor's steed sped onward, and in vain would he check its flightEre it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death the knight.A cedar o'erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast,(Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last,210He hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by his own hand)His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand:Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead,Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled.Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival?215Far better at home in Monsalväsch had he fared with the wondrous Grail!To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar stood,For down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the war-horse good.As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell,Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well.220Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won—Nor Lähelein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e'er had run!Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gurnemanz).Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance,Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalväsch, yet one grief must vex his soul,235He found not the Grail—Ever further he rode, further fled the goal!
Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell,Tho' the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir ParzivalHad met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before—One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho' thin was the cloak it bore230Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost;As he rode thro' the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway crossed,And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and fair,And his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did bear.And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey,235For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way.And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men's eyes are fain to see,In like garments they followed barefoot, e'en as pilgrims are wont to be.
Then our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his lowly way,And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips that day.240And a prince of the land he seemed him—By each maiden a brachet ran,And with humble mien and reverent paced master alike and man.For both knight and squire they followed on this holy pilgrimage,And some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent low with age.
But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise,245In fair raiment, rich and costly, he rode in right knightly guise,And proudly he ware his harness, and unlike were the twain I ween,The old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his armour's sheen!Then swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway side,For fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the knight replied.250But a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy TideShould have failèd to give due honour, but in warlike gear should ride.For better would it befit him unarmèd this day to greet,Or like them to walk barefooted, and in garb for a sinner meet!
Quoth Parzival, 'Nay, I know not what the time of the year may be,255Or how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly flee,How the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot such lore!Of old time I served a master, andGodwas the name He bore.But He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking gave,Tho' ne'er had my heart turned from Him—Men said, 'If from God ye crave260For succour, He sure will give it;' but I deem well they spake a lie,For He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny!'
Quoth the grey-haired knight, 'Dost thou mean Him who was once of a Maiden born?Dost believe that a Man for men's sake He died on the cross this morn,And this day for His sake we hallow? Then such garb becomes thee ill!265For to-day all men call Good Friday, and the world it rejoiceth stillO'er the day that her chains were riven; tho' she mourneth her Saviour's pain.Speak, knowest thou of faith more faithful than the faith God hath kept with men,Since He hung on the cross for men's sake? Such woe as He bare for thee,Sir Knight, sure must work thee sorrow, since baptized thou shalt surely be!270Foroursin His life was forfeit, or else had mankind been lost,And Hell as his prey had held us, and Hell's torments had paid sin's cost.Sir Knight, if thou be not heathen, thou shalt honour this Holy Day—So do thou as here I counsel, ride thou on this woodland way,For near here a hermit dwelleth, as thy speech, so his rede shall be,275And if ruth for ill deed thou showest of thy sin will he speak thee free!'
Then out quoth the old man's daughter, 'Nay, father, but speak not so,For too chill and cold is the morning, thou shalt bid him no further go.Far better to bid him warm him his steel-clad limbs, for strongAnd fair shall he be to look on, and the way is both cold and long.280Methinks were he thrice as mighty he would freeze ere his goal he reach,And here hast thou tent for shelter, and viands for all and each.Came King Arthur and all his vassals thou wouldst still have enough I trow,So do thou as host so kindly, and good-will to this young knight show!'Quoth the grey-haired sire, 'My daughters, Sir Knight, here give counsel good,285Each year, with tent of pilgrim, I wend thro' this lonely wood.If warm or cold be the season I care not, as year by yearThe time of our dear Lord's Passion draweth once more anear,He rewardeth His servant's service—Sir Knight, what I, for His sake,Brought here, as my guest, right willing, I pray thee from me to take!'290
And kindly they spake, the maidens, and they bade the knight to stay,And with gracious mien they prayed naught might drive him from them away.And tho' cold was the frost and bitter, and it wrought not as summer's heat,Yet Parzival saw their lips glow so red, and soft, and sweet.(Tho' they wept for the death of the Saviour, such sorrow became them well.)295And here, had I cause for vengeance, an such happy chance befell,I never would speak them guiltless, but a kiss should their penance be,Nor against their will would I take it, of good-will should they give it me!For women shall aye be women, and tho' brave be the knight, and strong,Yet I ween is he oft the vanquished, nor the strife it endureth long!300
With sweet words, and ways so gentle, they ever the knight would pray,Children alike and parents, and fain would they have him stay:Yet he thought, 'It were best I leave them, for e'en if I turn asideAll too fair methinks are these maidens, 'twere unfitting thatIshould rideWhiletheyby my side walk barefoot—And 'tis better that we should part,305Since ever I bear Him hatred Whom they worship with lowly heart,And they look for His aid, Who ever hath turnèd His face from me,Nor from sorrow hath He withheld me, but hath wrought with me heavily!''Knight and Lady,' he quoth, 'I think me 'twere better I leave should pray,May good fortune be yours, and blessing, and fulness of joy alway,310And may you, ye gentle maidens, find reward in your courtesy,Since so well ye had thought to serve me, fair leave would I pray from ye!'He greeted them, low they bowed them, and greeted the knight again,Nor might they withhold their sorrow, for parting aye bringeth pain!
So the son of Herzeleide rode onward, well taught was he315In all manly skill and courage, in mercy and purity;And his mother had aye bequeathed him her faithful heart and true—Yet ever his soul waxed sadder, and there sprang up thoughts anewOf the might of the Maker of all things, Who hath made this earth of naught,How He dealeth with all creation, and still on His power he thought320'How might it yet be if God sent me that which brought to an end my woe?If ever a knight He favoured, if ever a knight might knowHis payment for service done Him—if He thinketh His aid they earnWho dauntless shall wield their weapons, and ne'er from a foeman turn,Let Him aid me, who bear unstainèd shield and sword as befits a man,325If to-day be His Day of Redemption, let Him help me, if help Hecan.'
Backward he turned his bridle on the road he had ridden before,And the knight and his children stood there, and mourned for the parting sore.And the maidens, true and gentle, gazed after the passing knight,And his heart spake, he fain had seen them once more those maidens bright.330
Then he spake, 'Is God's power so mighty that He guideth upon their wayThe steed alike and the rider, then His hand may I praise to-day!If God sendeth help from heaven, then let Him my charger showThe goal which shall bless my journey, so shall I the token know.Now, go thou as God shall lead thee!' and bridle and bit he laid335Free on the neck of his charger and spurred it adown the glade.
Towards Fontaine-Sauvage the road led, and the chapel where once he swareThe oath that should clear Jeschuté—A holy man dwelt there,And Trevrezent men called him, and ever on Monday mornPoor was his fare, and no richer it waxed as the week wore on.340Nor wine nor bread he tasted, nor food that with blood was red,Fish nor flesh, but his life so holy on the herb of the ground was fed.And ever his thoughts, God-guided, were turning to Heaven's land,And by fasting the wiles of the Devil he deemed he might best withstand.
And to Parzival the mystery of the Grail should he now reveal—345And he, who of this hath asked me, and since silence my lips must sealWas wroth with me as his foeman, his anger might naught avail,Since I did but as Kiot bade me, for he would I should hide the tale,And tell unto none the secret, till the venture so far were spedThat the hidden should be made open, and the marvel of men be read.350
For Kiot of old, the master whom men spake of in days of yore,Far off in Toledo's city, found in Arabic writ the loreBy men cast aside and forgotten, the tale of the wondrous Grail;But first must he learn the letters, nor black art might there avail.By the grace of baptismal waters, by the light of our Holy Faith,355He read the tale, else 'twere hidden; for never, the story saith,Might heathen skill have shown us the virtue that hidden liesIn this mighty Grail, or Its marvels have opened to Christian eyes.
'Twas a heathen, Flegetanis, who had won for his wisdom fame,And saw many a wondrous vision, (from Israel's race he came,360And the blood of the kings of old-time, of Solomon did he share,)He wrote in the days long vanished, ere we as a shield might bearThe cross of our Holy Baptism 'gainst the craft and the wiles of Hell,And he was the first of earth's children the lore of the Grail to tell.By his father's side a heathen, a calf he for God did hold,365How wrought the devil such folly, on a folk so wise, of old?And the Highest Who knoweth all wonders, why stretched He not forth His HandTo the light of His truth to turn them? For who may His power withstand!
And the heathen, Flegetanis, could read in the heavens highHow the stars roll on their courses, how they circle the silent sky,370And the time when their wandering endeth—and the life and the lot of menHe read in the stars, and strange secrets he saw, and he spake againLow, with bated breath and fearful, of the thing that is called the Grail,In a cluster of stars was it written, the name, nor their lore shall fail.And he quoth thus, 'A host of angels this marvel to earth once bore,375But too pure for earth's sin and sorrow the heaven they sought once more,And the sons of baptized men hold It, and guard It with humble heart,And the best of mankind shall those knights be who have in such service part'
Then Kiot my master read this, the tale Flegetanis told,And he sought for the name of the people, in Latin books of old,380Who of God were accounted worthy for this wondrous Grail to care,Who were true and pure in their dealings and a lowly heart might bear.And in Britain, and France, and Ireland thro' the chronicles he soughtTill at length, in the land of Anjou, the story to light was brought.There, in true and faithful record, was it written of Mazadan,385And the heroes, the sons of his body, and further the story ran,How Titurel, the grandsire, left his kingdom to Frimutel,And at length to his son, Anfortas, the Grail and Its heirdom fell:That his sister was Herzeleide, and with Gamuret she wedAnd bare him for son the hero whose wanderings ye now have read.390For he rideth upon a journey that shall lead him a road unknown,Tho' the grey knight but now had wended his way from the fountain lone.
And he knew again the meadow, tho' now the snow lay whiteOn the ground that erst was blooming with flowers of springtide bright.'Twas before the rocky hillside where his hand must wipe away395The stain from Jeschuté's honour, and her husband's wrath allay.Yet still the road led onward, to Fontaine-Sauvage, the nameOf the goal that should end his journey and his hermit host he came.
Then out spake the holy hermit, 'Alas, why doest thou so,Sir Knight? at this Holy Season 'tis ill thus armed to go.400Dost thou bear perchance this harness thro' strife and danger dared?Or hast thou unharmèd ridden, and in peace on thy way hast fared?Other robe had beseemed thee better! List not to the voice of pride,But draw thy rein here beside me, and with me for a space abide.Not all too ill shalt thou fare here, thou canst warm thee beside my fire.405Dost thou seek here for knightly venture, and dost guerdon of love desire,If the power of true Love constrain thee, then love Him who Love may claim!As this day to His Love beareth witness, be His service to-day thine aim,And serve for the love of fair women, if it please thee, another day;But now get thee from off thy charger, and awhile from thy wanderings stay.'410
Then Parzival, e'en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the ground;Humbly he stood before him, as he told how he folk had foundWho had told of the hermit's dwelling, and the counsel he wisely gave,And he spake, 'I am one who hath sinnèd, and rede at thy lips I crave!'As he spake the hermit answered,'Right gladly I'll counsel thee,415But, say, what folk hast thou met with? Who showed thee thy way to me?'In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he spake,And kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to take,On his track my steed came hither.' Then answered the hermit old,''Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told.420A prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis' kingHath taken to wife—Fairer maidens no mother to earth did bringThan those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon thy road,Of a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode!'
Then Parzival spake to the hermit, 'Now say, when thou saw'st me here,425Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no touch of fear?'Quoth the hermit,'Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for stag or bearHave I feared than I feared a man's face, in sooth shalt thou be awareI fear me for no man living! Both cunning and skill have I,And tho' I were loath to vaunt me, yet I ne'er to this life did fly430For fear, as beseems a maiden! For never my heart did quailWhen I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne'er did my courage fail,In the days when such things became me, in the days when I too might fight,I was armèd as thou art armèd, like thee did I ride, a knight!And I strove for high love's rewarding, and many an evil thought435With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I wroughtTo win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,And my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no more.'
'Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there 'neath the rocky wallThy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall fall,440Will gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may be,Yet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too ill with me!'But Parzival deemed that surely 'twas unfitting a hermit oldShould thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from his hand withhold,'Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive 'gainst thine host's good-will,445Let not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my counsel still.'In this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did the knight,And the charger he led 'neath the hillside where but seldom did sun-rays light.In sooth 'twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed would stall,And thro' it, from heights o'erhanging, foamed ever a water-fall.450