Now list to this maid Siguné who her grief would bemoan as meet,455She 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,460And 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 fameWho is hero of this my venture, who now standeth the maid beside—465And her red lips they spake unfaltering, 'Thou artParzival,' she cried,And thy name it shall mean 'to pierce thro',' for thy mother's faithful heartWith 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 citadelAs 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,475His 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.480Now 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—485So 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.490But 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 handAfoot 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,495And 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 eat500In 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!'505Then 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 winTo 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 beholdA face and form so comely—I will thee, as a marvel, bringTo 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 dayHe roused himself full eager to get on his onward way,515And 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,520Ye shall choose ye some other plaything, such as courtesy well doth suit;Else will I thy lady Enid, and her mother KarnafitePass 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!)525When 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,530An' 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—535Of 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,540Of 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;550Red 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 wieldWas red, yea, the shaft and the iron; and red at the knight's desireWas his sword, yet the blade's fair keenness was not dimmed by the raging fire.555And the King of Cumberland, stately, in his mailèd hand did holdA goblet, with skill engraven, and wrought of the good red gold—From the Table Round had he reft it—All red was his shining hairYet 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,560Yea, 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—565Now do me this grace I pray thee, an thou wend thee unto the townBear 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 came570And 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-pouredThe 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 rightFor better I thought the wine-cup, than the straw-wisp all alight,575For 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 willWhere 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!580This 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.585Then Iwanet sprang from out them, and this youth from falsehood freeHe gave him a kindly greeting, and he proffered him company.And the lad he quoth, 'God keep thee, (so my mother she bade me speakEre yet from home I wended) King Arthur I fain would seekBut here see I full many an Arthur! Who of all these shall make me knight?'590Then 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 allAnd 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.595And all who have won by their valour at the Table Round a seatYe 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)600That 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 aroundAnd hither and thither pressed him till scarce might he stand his ground:605And well did they look upon him, for each for himself might seeThat 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,610And no man might bear him hatred—Then the queen from her seat aroseAnd she gazed for a space upon him ere she passed from out the hallWhere 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,615For 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 beThat I fain would be knight, lacking knighthood all else seemeth ill to me!Now make thou no more delaying, be knighthood my lot straightway.'620Quoth 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 rareWould 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.'625The 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 glowIf thou givest me not his armour no gift will I take from thee,Mymotherwill not withhold it—For a queen shall she surely be.'Then Arthur he quoth, 'That armour so gallant a knight doth wear630That 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 meHe 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,640If 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.645By 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,650And 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 seeThat knight, who of knights the bravest or was, or henceforth should be.655As 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 sware660His staff he laid unknightly on her maiden shoulders fair,And ere ever the sound of the smiting on the ear had died awayThro' 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 fameCast aside, and I wot thou hast done it to thine own mending shame!665Now see, e'en in flight have I caught it, and I bring it to thee once moreIn 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 hallMany gallant men have ridden, yet hast thou despised them all,And ne'er hast thou smiled upon them—And now doth thy laughter ring670For one knowing naught of knighthood! Unseemly I deem this thing!'Now whate'er might be done in anger I wot well no king's decreeHad 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,675Had her gallant brothers seen it, Lähelein and OrilusFar 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,680As clear rang the maiden's laughter, aloud spake the silent knight,'Now here before God I tell thee, Kunnewaaré of fair LalandeThou 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.'685His food would he make full bitter.—Kay smote him upon the earWith 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 around690That 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 knightWhose 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,700Wouldst 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 theeMine armour, mylifehe 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 boreForsquirewill 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 blow710That 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 goodThat there where the spear-shaft struck him there sprang forth bright drops of blood.Then Parzival sprang up swiftly and stood wrathful upon his feetAnd he grasped his javelin firmly—Where the helm and the visor meet715And betwixt the twain is an opening, there the javelin swiftly spedAnd 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,720And 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 undone725Tho' 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 broughtTo 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,730As 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 gainFor 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,735How 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,740As aknightshalt thou now be clothèd,' and the lad deemed it ill to hear;Quoth Parzival, 'What my mother aforetime hath given meThat 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.745And 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,750Ere 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.755Then 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 skill760To 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 rideThou 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.'765And this hath the venture told me,—Not in Maestricht, or e'en CologneMight 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,770And mourn unto him my shaming—This cup thou again shalt bring,And tell him a knight hath wronged me, since he smote that maiden fairWho 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 heartThis maid's woe all undeservèd—Now do thou in her shame have part775Thro' 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 gain780Who 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 bladeA bough of wood, and in this wise a cross o'er the dead man made.785Then he gat him again to the city, and the heavy tidings told;And from many a trembling woman, and from many a hero boldRose 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,790Queen 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 knightHere slain before Nantes he lieth! His heritage did he claimWhere men gave him death for his guerdon—For naught marred his knightly fame;795Here long hath he dwelt among us in such wise that never an earThe 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,800Taught 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 wooAnd show manhood's truth—Fruit-bearing it seedeth itself anewThe 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 below805Scarce redder may be with thy life-blood—All laughter hast thou forbidTo 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,810Hereafter, 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 drawThe girth by one hole the tighter if the knight for two days it bore.815So fully armed, in his folly yet further he rode that dayThan 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,820And the lad he thought in his folly that the towers from the earth must growSince 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 fieldThat a crop so rich and so stately in growth might ever yield;825I 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 led830To where Parzival found him seated who of castle and land was head.Now weariness sore constrained him, nor his shield might he rightly holdBut it backward and forward wavered as beseemed not a rider bold.And Prince Gurnemanz sat all lonely, and the boughs of the linden treeGave shade as was meet to its master, the captain of courtesy—835And his life it fled from falsehood—Then e'en as should be his rightHe 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,850And 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 meBe 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,855Full many a time they urged him, but it cost them many a thoughtEre 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 view860A 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,865And 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 took870It 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 prayTo take from him knightly homage,—Tho' his face is so fair alway875It had fitted him well for Love's service.' Then the host spake, ''Tis best we seeThis lad, in whose strange attiring a marvel for sure shall be!'Then to Parzival they betook them, and they found that a wound he bareFrom 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 love880To 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,885And his wound and the heavy harness which he before Nantes had wonWrought 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,890And the food it swiftly vanished, as if one would a manger fill!And Gurnemanz was well pleasèd, and ever the lad did prayTo 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 fairThey cast o'er his naked body,—fairer fruit never woman bare!
Now list to this maid Siguné who her grief would bemoan as meet,455She 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,460And 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 fameWho is hero of this my venture, who now standeth the maid beside—465And her red lips they spake unfaltering, 'Thou artParzival,' she cried,And thy name it shall mean 'to pierce thro',' for thy mother's faithful heartWith 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 citadelAs 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,475His 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.480Now 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—485So 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.490But 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 handAfoot 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,495And 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 eat500In 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 winTo 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 beholdA face and form so comely—I will thee, as a marvel, bringTo 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 dayHe roused himself full eager to get on his onward way,515And 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,520Ye shall choose ye some other plaything, such as courtesy well doth suit;Else will I thy lady Enid, and her mother KarnafitePass 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,530An' 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—535Of 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,540Of 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;550Red 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 wieldWas red, yea, the shaft and the iron; and red at the knight's desireWas his sword, yet the blade's fair keenness was not dimmed by the raging fire.555And the King of Cumberland, stately, in his mailèd hand did holdA goblet, with skill engraven, and wrought of the good red gold—From the Table Round had he reft it—All red was his shining hairYet 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,560Yea, 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—565Now do me this grace I pray thee, an thou wend thee unto the townBear 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 came570And 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-pouredThe 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 rightFor better I thought the wine-cup, than the straw-wisp all alight,575For 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 willWhere 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!580This 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.585Then Iwanet sprang from out them, and this youth from falsehood freeHe gave him a kindly greeting, and he proffered him company.And the lad he quoth, 'God keep thee, (so my mother she bade me speakEre yet from home I wended) King Arthur I fain would seekBut here see I full many an Arthur! Who of all these shall make me knight?'590Then 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 allAnd 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.595And all who have won by their valour at the Table Round a seatYe 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)600That 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 aroundAnd hither and thither pressed him till scarce might he stand his ground:605And well did they look upon him, for each for himself might seeThat 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,610And no man might bear him hatred—Then the queen from her seat aroseAnd she gazed for a space upon him ere she passed from out the hallWhere 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,615For 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 beThat I fain would be knight, lacking knighthood all else seemeth ill to me!Now make thou no more delaying, be knighthood my lot straightway.'620Quoth 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 rareWould 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 glowIf thou givest me not his armour no gift will I take from thee,Mymotherwill not withhold it—For a queen shall she surely be.'
Then Arthur he quoth, 'That armour so gallant a knight doth wear630That 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 meHe 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,640If 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.645By 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,650And 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 seeThat knight, who of knights the bravest or was, or henceforth should be.655As 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 sware660His staff he laid unknightly on her maiden shoulders fair,And ere ever the sound of the smiting on the ear had died awayThro' 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 fameCast aside, and I wot thou hast done it to thine own mending shame!665Now see, e'en in flight have I caught it, and I bring it to thee once moreIn 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 hallMany gallant men have ridden, yet hast thou despised them all,And ne'er hast thou smiled upon them—And now doth thy laughter ring670For one knowing naught of knighthood! Unseemly I deem this thing!'
Now whate'er might be done in anger I wot well no king's decreeHad 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,675Had her gallant brothers seen it, Lähelein and OrilusFar 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,680As clear rang the maiden's laughter, aloud spake the silent knight,'Now here before God I tell thee, Kunnewaaré of fair LalandeThou 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.'685His food would he make full bitter.—Kay smote him upon the earWith 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 around690That 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 knightWhose 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,700Wouldst 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 theeMine armour, mylifehe 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 boreForsquirewill 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 blow710That 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 goodThat there where the spear-shaft struck him there sprang forth bright drops of blood.Then Parzival sprang up swiftly and stood wrathful upon his feetAnd he grasped his javelin firmly—Where the helm and the visor meet715And betwixt the twain is an opening, there the javelin swiftly spedAnd 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,720And 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 undone725Tho' 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 broughtTo 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,730As 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 gainFor 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,735How 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,740As aknightshalt thou now be clothèd,' and the lad deemed it ill to hear;Quoth Parzival, 'What my mother aforetime hath given meThat 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.745And 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,750Ere 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.755Then 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 skill760To 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 rideThou 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 CologneMight 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,770And mourn unto him my shaming—This cup thou again shalt bring,And tell him a knight hath wronged me, since he smote that maiden fairWho 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 heartThis maid's woe all undeservèd—Now do thou in her shame have part775Thro' 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 gain780Who 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 bladeA bough of wood, and in this wise a cross o'er the dead man made.785Then he gat him again to the city, and the heavy tidings told;And from many a trembling woman, and from many a hero boldRose 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,790Queen 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 knightHere slain before Nantes he lieth! His heritage did he claimWhere men gave him death for his guerdon—For naught marred his knightly fame;795Here long hath he dwelt among us in such wise that never an earThe 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,800Taught 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 wooAnd show manhood's truth—Fruit-bearing it seedeth itself anewThe 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 below805Scarce redder may be with thy life-blood—All laughter hast thou forbidTo 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,810Hereafter, 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 drawThe girth by one hole the tighter if the knight for two days it bore.815So fully armed, in his folly yet further he rode that dayThan 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,820And the lad he thought in his folly that the towers from the earth must growSince 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 fieldThat a crop so rich and so stately in growth might ever yield;825I 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 led830To where Parzival found him seated who of castle and land was head.
Now weariness sore constrained him, nor his shield might he rightly holdBut it backward and forward wavered as beseemed not a rider bold.And Prince Gurnemanz sat all lonely, and the boughs of the linden treeGave shade as was meet to its master, the captain of courtesy—835And his life it fled from falsehood—Then e'en as should be his rightHe 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,850And 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 meBe 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,855Full many a time they urged him, but it cost them many a thoughtEre 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 view860A 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,865And 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 took870It 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 prayTo take from him knightly homage,—Tho' his face is so fair alway875It had fitted him well for Love's service.' Then the host spake, ''Tis best we seeThis lad, in whose strange attiring a marvel for sure shall be!'
Then to Parzival they betook them, and they found that a wound he bareFrom 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 love880To 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,885And his wound and the heavy harness which he before Nantes had wonWrought 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,890And the food it swiftly vanished, as if one would a manger fill!And Gurnemanz was well pleasèd, and ever the lad did prayTo 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 fairThey cast o'er his naked body,—fairer fruit never woman bare!