{ "meta": { "schema_version": "1.1", "endpoint": "/api/sources/grail-romances/parzival/09-book-ix-trevrezent.json" }, "work": { "slug": "parzival", "name": "Parzival" }, "parents": [ { "slug": "grail-romances", "name": "Holy Grail Romances", "url": "/sources/grail-romances/" } ], "chapter": { "num": 10, "slug": "09-book-ix-trevrezent", "title": "Book IX: Trevrezent", "of": 17, "words": 39017, "text": "## Book IX: Trevrezent\n\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nDigitized by LjOOQle\n\nI\n\nARGUMENT\n\nBook ix. In the opening the spirit of adventure craves admission to\nthe heart of the poet, who would fain learn from her tidings of Parzival.\n\n) The venture telleth how the hero had ridden long in doubt and despair,\nand knew not the days of his wanderings. How he met again with Sigund\nand came to the forest of Monsalv&sch, where he fought with a Knight of\nthe Grail. How, on Good Friday, Parzival met with a pilgrim knight who\nreproached him for bearing arms at that Holy Tide, and bade him seek\nthe hermit Trevrezent.\n\nHow Parzival came to the hermit's cell, and spake of his wrath against\nGod, of his sorrow for his wife, and of his search for the Grail. How\nTrevrezent told him wherein he had sinned, and showed him the way of\nsalvation.\n\nHow the hermit further revealed to him the mysteries of the Grail, of the\nBleeding Lance, and the knives of silver; how he told him of the wound\nof Anfortas, of the race of the Grail Kings, and how Parzival himself was\nnephew to Anfortas and Trevrezent. How Parzival confessed that it'was\nbe who came to the Grail Castle and failed to ask the question; how\nTrevrezent spake to him words of comfort and counsel, and absolved him\nfrom his sin; and how the two parted in sorrow.\n\nDigitized by LjOOQle\n\n<\n\nTREVREZIENT\n\n*\n\nPE the portal!’ ‘To whom? Who art thou V ‘In thine\nheart would 1 find a place ! ’\n\n‘ Nay ! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall\nbe the space 1 ’\n\n‘ What of that ? If it do but hold me, none too close shall\nmy presence be, .\n\nNor shalt thou be wail my coming such marvels 1 ’ll tell to thee ! 5\nIs it thou, then, D Dame Adventure^ Ah 1 tell me of Parzival,\n\nWhat doeth he now my hero ? whom Kondrie, to find the Grail\nHath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens fair\nThat the path of his far wayfarings the knight from theij side must bear.\n\nSo he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide to-day ?\n\nAh ! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray ? io\n\nSay, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft,\n\nShall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left ?\n\nHis renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin ?\n\nAh 1 tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win.\n\nHath he seen once again Monsalvasch, and Anfortas, the mournful king, 15\nWhose heart was with sorrow laden ? Of thy pity swift comfort bring,\n\nAnd say if his woe be ended—Speak, speak for we tidings pray\nOf him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day ?\n\nDeclare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret’s son, ^\n\nAnd the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done ? 90\n\nSince he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe ?\n\nHe hath striven, but rides he ever thro’ the wide world nor rest doth know ?\n\nOr loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o’er-long at ease ?\n\nI were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please 1\n\nDigitized by vjOO^IC\n\nPARZIVAL\n\n>5 And this hath the venture told me—He hath ridden many a land,\n\nAnd hath sail&d many a water; and ever, before his hand,\n\nWere he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him, he fell,\n\nNor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises telL\nAnd ever when in the balance the feme of his foe must lie,\n\n32 Twas outweighed by his feme, and his glory uprose to the stars on high,\nAnd all others paled before it—In many a mighty strife\nWith sword and lance was he victor, and guarded fell well his life.\n\nAnd they who would feme win from him, for such thinking they paid fell\n' dear—\n\nThe sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear,\n\n35 Sprang asunder onewhile, yet ’twas welded afresh in the mystic spring\nBy Karnant, and much feme and honour the blade to its lord did bring 1\n\nWho believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tell\nHow adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,\n\n(But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,)\n\n40 When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight,\n\nAnd a stream flowed swift beneath it, for ’twas built o’er the brooklet’s wave\nThen in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave,\n\nNor knew that of grace ’twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led.\nBut the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped,\n\n45 For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth,\n\nAnd the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.\n\nFor he found here Srbmnatiiland^anH S * i\n\nDead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above.\n\nTho’ but &foom£$un£ the Du chess might.hearken th e Holy Mass,\n\n50 A ll her life was a prayer, in God’s service her nights as her days she *ld pass.\nAnd her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade,\n\nAnd alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.\n\nThus denial of love’s fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die,\n\nAnd dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly.\n\n55 And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne’er had Lunetl braved\nHer wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave.\nAnd to-day may we look upon women, who never a willing ear\nHad turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear.\n\nDigitized by\n\nGoogle\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n, For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone, *_\n\n, And thro* virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own, 60\n\nBut aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true,\n\nHeaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new!\n\nI And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair !\n\nAnd I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear.\n\nBe he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide, J 6 5 ^\nThen far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide t\n\nShall 1 joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Sigund brought ?\n\nNay, ’twere better I speak not of it—O’er rough stones, and a road unwrought j\nRode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too near).\n\nHe would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its windings hear. 70\nAnd he thought him, perchance, the hermit might tell of the unknown way,\n\n‘ Doth one dwell here ?* the voice of a maiden it was that made answer, ( Yea!’\n\nAs he knew *twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his steed aside\nOn the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too near did ride,\n\nAnd sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt 75\n\nWithin such a lowly dwelling, and shame, as was meet, he felt.\n\nThen his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a fallen tree,\n\n« And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous knight was he.\n\nThen he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place and road, ^\nAnd the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as ’seemed griefs abode. 80\nHe spake, would she come to the window ? and the maiden from prayer arose,\n\nShe was tall as a virgin lily, and pale as a faded rose,\n\nAnd he deemed not as yet that he knew her—A shirt woven rough of hair,\n\nNext her skin, ’neath a flowing garment of grey, did the maiden wear,\n\nAnd sorrow was her heart’s treasure, and fallen her courage high, 35\n\nAnd the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in many a sigh !\n\nThen the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did she court¬\neous greet,\n\nIn her hand did she hold her ^saltc fr and her voice itjj^us low and sweet.\n\nAnd Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of airing of gold,\n\nFor truly she bare the token she won Iran true love dfold.\n\nAnd the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose slumbering light\nFlashed red mid the dusky shadows, as mid a^hes^f^iparks glow bright.\n\nty~' (\n* ..?*\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nAnd the band that her head encircled was blade as a mourning band—\n\nThen she spake, ‘ Sir Knight, ’neath the window a bench shalt thou see to stand,\n95 Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey will brook delay,\nGod reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me this day ! ’\n\n> Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat ’neath the window small,\n\nAnd he prayed her, ‘Sit thou within there!’ ‘Nay! ne’er did such chance befall\nThat here by a man I sat me ! ’ Then he asked hex} what did she here ?\nioo ‘ That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in this desert drear\nSeemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt .thou live,\n\nSince no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give ? ’\n\nThen she quoth, ‘ ’Tis the Grail that doth feed me, and It feedeth me well I\nween,\n\nt From Its marvels the sorceress'Kondrie, (of her own will the task hath been,)\n105 Doth bring me each Sabbath vigil what serveth me for the week.’\n\nA little space she kept silence, then further the maid did speak:\n\n‘An it otherwise were with me as L would, I need little care\n\nFor the food, since the Grail doth feed me I never too ill shall fare ! ’\n\nBut he deemed that she lied unto him, and with false words would speak him\nfair,\n\nno And, mocking, he spake, ‘ Now, who gave thee that ring which I see thee wear ?\nFor ever ’twas told unto me that hermit, or man, or maid,\n\nMust forswear all love ! ’—‘ Now I think me, if in truth thou these words hast\nsaid,\n\nFor false maiden thou sure dost hold me ! Yet if falsehood I ever learn,\nAnd thou shalt be near to witness, ’twere time then with wrath to burn !\n\n115 God knoweth, ill ways I hated, and falsehood I never knew;\n\nThis troth plight that here thou seest I had from a lover true,\n\nTho’ never was love’s fulfilment our portion while he might live,\n\n’Twas the heart of maiden bade me the love of a maiden give.\n\nAnd he lieth in death beside me, and his token I ever wear\ni2o Since the day that Duke Orilus slew him—and grief for his sake I bear— ’\n\n‘ And true love will I truly give him, thro’ my sorrow-laden days,\n\nSuch love as I sware unto him, when he, whom all knights must praise,\nWith sword, and shield, and helmet, and prowess of knightly deed\nSought my love, and in true love’s service won death for his glory’s meed !\n\nDigitized by Google\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n*55\n\nvYet tho’ ever a spotless maiden, my husband he, in God's sight, 195\n\nShall be, and if thoughts God counteth as deeds then is woven aright\nThe bond that shall ever bind us, true husband and wife as true,\n\nFor his death wrought my life such sorrow as waxeth for ever new.\n\nAnd this ring shall, I ween, be my witness when I stand in the sight of God\nOf a marriage vow and the tear-drops that bedew it are tears of blood.’ 130\n\n‘ Yea, ’tis I indeed, and none other, and the hero who here doth lie\nIs my knight, Schionatulander, and the maid of his love am I!’\n\nThen he knew ’twas the maid Sigund, and her sorrow it wrought him pain,\n\nAnd he lifted his helmet’s visor ere he spake to the maid again.\n\nAnd she saw his head uncovered, and she saw his face gleam white , 35\n\nThro’ the rust of the iron harness, and she spake to the gallant knight:\n\n* Is it thou, Parzival, my kinsman ? Dost thou seek for the Grail to-day ?\n\nOr its mighty power hast thou proven ? Say, whither dost wend thy way ?’\n\nThen he spake to the noble maiden,* Alas ! for my joy is fled,\n\nAnd the Grail hath but wrought me sorrow, and mischance in fair fortune’s 140\nstead.\n\nFor the land that as king had crowned me must I leave, and yet more, I ween,\nThe fairest of wives, and the sweetest, that ever a man hath seen.\n\nFor no lovelier form I think me on earth of mankind was bom,\n\nAnd I yearn for her tender greeting, and full sore for her love I mourn !\n\nAnd yet know I a deeper sorrow and I strive for a higher prize, 145\n\nFor the day when the Burg of Monsalvasch, and the Grail shall rejoice my ;\neyes!\n\nNow, Sigun£, dear my cousin, thou wast all too wroth with me,\n\nFor heavy indeed my sorrow, yet thou fain wouldst my foeman be ! ’ #\n\nAnd she quoth, ‘ From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I forswear,\n\nFor too much of thy joy lieth forfeit since the question thou didst forbear t ( 150\nAnd I would not too sorely grieve thee—Alas ! that thou didst withhold\nThe word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his griefs had told\nWho sat there as thine host beside thee—nor thine host alone was he,\n\nAnfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to thee!\n\nAnd thy question great bliss had brought thee, and thy silence had wrought *55\nthee woe,\n\nAnd thy spirit shall foil, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade thou well shalt\nknow. t\n\nDigitized by vjiOOQIC\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nAnd yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had sought thy side,\nHadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did its host betide! ’\n\n‘ Yea, 1 did there as one who wrongeth himself, yet my cousin dear\n160 I prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen near,\n\nAnd tell me, how hires it with thee ? 1 would sorrow for this thy woe\nWere my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never know ! *\n\n/ Then she quoth, 4 May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all men’s woe,\n*>* ' Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall show\n\n*65 That shall lead thee once more to Monsalvasch, and thine heart’s bliss afresh\nshall spring.\n\n’Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I could tidings\nbring ’\n\nOf whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg again,\n\nOr passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet she draweth\nrein,\n\nWhere, from cleft in the high rock riven, the waters flow fresh and clear.\n\n*70 It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet anear,\n\nAnd, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.’ Then the knight he made no delay\nBut forewell did he bid to the maiden ; and he followed the woodland way,\nAnd fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the mule must\nchoose\n\nThro’ the depths of the dusky thicket that its traces he soon must lose.\n\n*75 As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again to-day,\n\nAnd joy and delight fled with It—Yea, had he but found the way,\n\nAnd reached once again Monsalvasch, far better than erst of old\n\nHad he known how to ask the question—thus* in sooth is the venture told.\n\n/So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered head,\n\n180 And blazoned coat o’er his shining harness, full swiftly towards him sped !\nAnd to Parzival thus quoth he, 4 Sir Knight, I must deem it ill\nThat thus thro’ the woods of my monarch thou takest thy way at will!\nBegone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself for from here !\nMonsalvasch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls anear,\n\n185 And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor’s fame,\n\nOr such penance bfe thine, as without there, in the open, men Death shall\nname !*\n\nDigitized by LjOOQle\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nAnd he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of silken sheen,\nSharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new and strong I\nween!\n\nAnd wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain should be\n\nHis threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for joust was he; 190\n\nBut many a spear as goodly had splintered Yore Parzival,\n\nAnd he thought, 1 Now, it well had chanced me, that death to my lot should\nfall\n\nIf I rode thro* the corn upstanding —then reason had he for wrath,\n\nBut now hath he none, since I ride here on naught but a woodland path,\n\nAnd 1 tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not lose its I95\nskill\n\n1 will leave him such pledge for my journey as, 1 think me, shall please him\n011 *\n\nThen they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged them with spur\nand rein,\n\nAs the bolt from the bow of the archer so swift flew those heroes twain,\n\nAnd the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly fray\nUnscathed had Parzival ridden, and e’en so should it chance to-day. 900\n\n(Unto skill and the lust of battle must his father’s son be heir.)\n\nHis lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman’s helm struck fair,\n\nAnd it smote him where men in jousting their shield are wont to hold,\n\nAnd down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the Templar bold.\n\nAnd the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a rocky dell, *>5\n\nTho’ couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered not over well. ~ /'\n\n-—\n\nm\n\nBut the victor’s steed sped onward, and in vain would he check its flight\nEre it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death, the knight\nA cedar o’erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast,\n\n(Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last, k aid\n\nHe hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by fr is own h and) i o** o\nHis feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand : ^\n\nFar out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead,\n\nUp the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled.\n\nThink ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival ? 315\n\nFar better at home in Monsalvasch had he fared with the wondrous Grail 1\nVOL. I. R\n\n258 PARZIVAL\n\nTo the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar\nstood,\n\nFor down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the war-horse good.\n\nAs the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell,\nado Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well.\n\nOf a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won—\n\nNor Lahelein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e’er had run !\n\nNor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gumemanz).\n\nOnward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance,\n\n225 Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalvasch, yet one grief must vex his soul,\nJ^He found not the Grail—Ever further he rode, further fled the goal! MV\n\nNow he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell,\n\nTho* the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir Parzival\nHad met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before—\n\n250 One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho’ thin was the cloak it bore\nYet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost;\n\nAs he rode thro’ the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway\ncrossed,\n\nAnd old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and\n^ feir,\n\nAnd his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did bear.\n\n235 And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey,\n\n£or penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way.\n\nAnd their children, two gentle maidens, such as men’s eyes are fain to see.\n\nIn like garments they followed barefoot, e’en as pilgrims are wont to be.\n\nThen our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his lowly way,\n\n240 And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips that day.\n\nAnd a prince of the land he seemed him—By each maiden a brachet ran,\nAnd with humble mien and reverent paced master alike and man.\n\nFor both knight and squire they followed on this holy pilgrimage,\n\nAnd some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent low with age.\n\n°45 But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise,\n\nIn fair raiment, rich and costly, he rode in right knightly guise,\n\nAnd proudly he ware his harness, and unlike were the twain I ween,\n\nThe old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his armour’s sheen 1\n\nDigitized by\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n2J9\n\nThen swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway side,\n\nFor fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the knight replied. 350\nBut a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy Tide 1\n\nShould have fail&d to give due honour, but in warlike gear should ride. \\ ^_\n\nFor better would it befit him unarmed this day to greet, :1\n\nOr like them to walk barefooted, and in garb for a sinner meet!\n\nQuoth Parzival, ‘ Nay, I know not what the time of the year may be,\n\nOr how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly flee,\n\nHow the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot such lore!\n\nOf old time I served a master, and God was the name He bore.\n\nBut He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking gave, ^\n\nTho’ ne’er had my heart turned from Him—Men said, ‘ If from God ye cravf 960\nFor succour, He sure will give itbut I deem well they spake a lie,\n\nFor He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny 1 ’\n\nQuoth the grey-haired knight, * Dost thou mean Him who was once of a\nMaiden bom ?\n\nDost believe that a Man for men’s sake He died on the cross this mom,\n\nAnd this day for His sake we hallow ? Then such garb becomes thee ill! ^65\n\nFor to-day all men call Good Friday, and the world itrejoiceth still\nO’er the day that her chains were riven; tho’ she moumeth her Saviour’s pain.\nSpeak, knowest thou of faith more faithful than the faith God hath kept with\nmen,\n\nSince He hung on the cross for men’s sake? Such woe as He bare for thee,\n\nSir Knight, sure must work thee sorrow, since baptized thou shalt surely be ! 270\nFor our sin His life was forfeit, or else had mankind been lost,\n\nAnd Hell as his prey had held us, and Hell’s torments had paid sin’s cost.\n\n\\Sir Knight, if thou be not heathen, thou shalt honour this Holy Day— ^_..\n\nSo do thou as here I counsel, ride thou on this woodland way,\n\nFor near here a hermit dwelleth, as thy speech, so his rede shall be, 275\n\nAnd if ruth for ill deed thou showest of thy sin will he speak thee free! ’\n\nThen out quoth the old man’s daughter, ‘ Nay, father, but speak not so,\n\nFor too chill and cold is the morning, thou shalt bid him no further go.\n\nFar better to bid him warm him his steel-clad limbs, for strong\n\nAnd fair shall he be to look on, and the way is both cold and long. 380\n\nMethinks were he thrice as mighty he would freeze ere his goal he reach,\n\nAnd here hast thou tent for shelter, and viands for all and each.\n\n26o\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nCame King Arthur, and all his vassals thou wouldst still have enough I trow,\nSo do thou as host so kindly, and good-will to this young knight show!’\n\n985 Quoth the grey-haired silt,* My daughters,Sir Knight, here give counsel good,\nEach year, with tent of pilgrim, I wend thro’ this lonely wood.\n\nIf warm or cold be the season I care not, as year by year\nThe time of our dear Lord’s Passion draweth once more anear,\n\nHe rewardeth His servant’s service—Sir Knight, what I, for His sake,\n\n390 Brought here, as my guest, right willing, I pray thee from me to take ! ’\n\nAnd kindly they spake, the maidens, and they bade the knight to stay,\n\nAnd with gracious mien they prayed naught might drive him from them\n^ away.\n\nAnd tho’ cold was the frost and bitter, and it wrought not as summer’s heat,\nYet Parzival saw their lips glow so red, and soft, and dW&t.\na 95 (Tho’ they wept for the death of the Saviour, such sorrow became them well.)\nAnd here, had I cause for vengeance, an such happy chance befell,\n\n„ * ft never would speak them guiltless, but a kiss should their penance be,\n\nV ' <. r /Nor against their will would I take it, of good-will should they give it me!\n\n, [For women shall aye be women, and tho’ brave be the knight, and strong,\n3 °° Yet I ween is he oft the vanquished, nor the strife it endureth long!\n\nWith sweet words, and ways so gentle, they ever the knight would pray,\nChildren alike and parents, and fain would they have him stay:\n\nYet he thought, * It were best I leave them, for e’en if I turn aside\nAll too fair methinks are these maidens, ’twere unfitting that I should ride\n305 While they by my side walk barefoot—And *tis better that we should part,\nSince ever I bear Him hatred Whom they worship with lowly heart,\n\nAnd they look for His aid, Who ever hath turned His face from me,\n\nNor from sorrow hath He withheld me, but hath wrought with me heavily 1*\n* Knight and Lady,’ he quoth, * I think me ’twere better I leave should pray,\n310 May good fortune be yours, and blessing, and fulness of joy alway,\n\nAnd may you, ye gentle maidens, find reward in your courtesy,\n\nSince so well ye had thought to serve me, fair leave would I pray from ye ! ’\n? He greeted them, low they bowed them, and greeted the knight again,\n\nNor might they withhold their sorrow, for parting aye bringeth pain !\n\n3*5 So the son of Herzeleide rode onward, well taught was he\nIn all manly skill and courage, in merq^ ^d Parity ;\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nAnd his mother had aye bequeathed him her faithful heart and true—\n\nYet ever his soul waxed sadder, and there sprang up thoughts anew\nOf the might of the Maker of all things, Who hath made this earth of naught,\nHow He dealeth with all creation, and still on His power he thought 330\n\n* How might it yet be if God sent me that which brought to an end my woe ?\n\nIf ever a knight He favoured, if ever a knight might know\n\nHis payment for service done Him—if He thinketh His aid they earn\n\nWho dauntless shall wield their weapons, and ne’er from a foeman turn,\n\nLet Him aid me, who bear unstained shield and sword as befits a man, 1 3*5\nIf to-day be His Day of Redemption, let Him help me, if help He can.* I\n\nBackward he turned his bridle on the road he had ridden before,\n\nAnd the knight and his children stood there, and mourned for the parting sore.\nAnd the maidens, true and gentle, gazed after the passing knight,\n\nAnd his heart spake, he fain had seen them once more those maidens 330\nbright\n\nThen he spake, 1 Is God’s power so mighty that He guideth upon their way\nThe steed alike and the rider, then His hand may I praise to-day !\n\nIf God sendeth help from heaven, then let Him my charger show\nThe goal which shall bless my journey, so shall I the token know.\n\nNow, go thou as God shall lead thee 1 ’ and bridle and bit he laid\nFree on the neck of his charger and spurred it adown the glade.\n\nTowards Fontaine-Sauvage the road led, and the chapel where once he\nsware\n\nThe oath that should clear Jeschut£—A holy man dwelt there, |\n\nAnd Trevrezent men called him, and ever on Monday mom \\\n\nPoor was his fare, and no richer it waxed as the week wore on. 340\n\nNor wine nor bread he tasted, nor food that with blood was red,\n\nFish nor flesh, but his life so holy on the herb of the ground was fed. !\n\nAnd ever his thoughts, God-guided, were turning to Heaven’s land,\n\nAnd by fasting the wiles of the Devil he deemed he might best withstand.\n\nAnd to Parzival the mystery of the Grail should he now reveal— 345\n\nAnd he, who of this hath asked me, and since silence my lips must seal *\n\nWas wroth with me as his foeman, his anger might naught avail,\n\nSince I did but as Kiot bade me, for he would I should hide the tale,\n\nDigitized by (google\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nAnd tell onto none the secret, till the venture so far were sped\n350 That the hidden should be made open, and the marvel of men be read\n\nFor Kiot of old, the master whom men spake of in days of yore,\n\nFar off in Toledo’s city, found in Arabic writ the lore\n„ By men cast aside and forgotten, the tale of the wondrous Grail;\n\n' But first must he learn the letters, nor black art might there avail.\n\n355 By the grace of baptismal waters, by the light of our Holy Faith,\n\nHe read the tale, else ’twere hidden; for never, the story saitb,\n\nMight heathen skill have shown us the virtue that hidden lies\nIn this mighty Grail, or Its marvels have opened to Christian eyes.\n\n’Twas a heathen, Flegetanis, who had won for his wisdom fame,\n\n360 And saw many a wondrous vision, (from Israel’s race he came,\n\nAnd the blood of the kings of old-time, of Solomon did he share,)\n\nHe wrote in the days long vanished, ere we as a shield might bear\nThe cross of our Holy Baptism ’gainst the craft and the wiles of Hell,\n\nAnd he was the first of earth’s children the lore of the Grail to tell\n365 By his father’s side a heathen, a calf he for God did hold,\n\nHow wrought the devil such folly, on a folk so wise, of old ?\n\nAnd the Highest Who knoweth all wonders, why stretched He not forth His\nHand\n\nTo the light of His truth to turn them ? For who may His power withstand!\n\nAnd the heathen, Flegetanis, could read in the heavens high\n370 How the stars roll on their courses, how they circle the silent sky,\n\nAnd the time when their wandering endeth—and the life and the lot of men\nHe read in the stars, and strange secrets he saw, and he spake again\nLow, with bated breath and fearful, of the thing that is called the Grail,\n\nIn a cluster of stars was it written, the name, nor their lore shall faiL\n375|And he quoth thus, ‘ A host of angels this marvel to earth once bore,\n\nBut too pure for earth’s sin and soirow the heaven they sought once more,\nAnd the sons of baptized men hold It, and guard It with humble heart,\n\n(And the best of mankind shall those knights be who have in such service\npart.’\n\nThen Kiot my master read this, the tale Flegetanis told,\n\n380 And he sought for the name of the people, in Latin books of old,\n\nDigitized by vjiOCK^lC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nWho of God were accounted worthy for this wondrous Grail to care,\n\nWho were true and pure in their dealings and a lowly heart might bear.\n\nAnd in Britain, and France, and Ireland thro 1 the chronicles he sought\nTill at length, in the land of Anjou, the story to light was brought.\n\nThere, in true and faithful record, was it written of Mazadan, 1 3 8 5\n\nAnd the heroes, the sons of his body, and further the story ran,\n\nHow Titurel, the grands ire, left his kingdom to Frimutel, [\n\nAnd at length to his son, Anfortas, the Grail and Its heirdom fell:\n\nThat his sister was Herzeleide, and with Gamuret she wed\nAnd bare him for son the hero whose wanderings ye now have read. 390\n\nFor he rideth upon a journey that shall lead him a road unknown, \\\n\nTho’ the grey knight but now had wended his way from the fountain loneJ^/\n\n\\\n\nAnd he knew again the meadow, tho* now the snow lay white\nOn the ground that erst was blooming with flowers of springtide bright\n’Twas before the rocky hillside where his hand must wipe away 395\n\nThe stain from Jeschut#s honour, and her husband’s wrath allay.\n\nYet still the road led onward, to Fontaine-Sauvage, the name\nOf the goal that should end his journey and his hermit host he came.\n\nThen out spake the holy hermit, ‘Alas, why doest thou so,\n\nSir Knight ? at this Holy Season ’tis ill thus armed to go.\n\nDost thou bear perchance this harness thro* strife and danger dared ?\n\nOr hast thou unharm&d ridden, and in peace on thy way hast fared ?\n\nOther robe had beseemed thee better V List not to the voice of pride,\n\nBut draw thy rein here beside me, and with me for a space abide.\n\nNot all too ill shalt thou fare here, thou canst warm thee beside my fire. 405\nDost thou seek here for knightly venture, and dost guerdon of love desire,\n\nIf the power of true Love constrain thee, then love Him who Love may *\nclaim!\n\nAs this day to His Love beareth witness, be His service to-day thine aim,\n\nAnd serve for the love of fair women, if it please thee, another day;\n\nBut now get . thee from off thy charger, and awhile from thy wanderings stay.’ 410\n\nThen Parzival, e’en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the ground;\nHumbly he stood before him, as he told how he folk had found\nWho had told of the hermit’s dwelling, and the counsel he wisely gave, |\nAnd he spake. ‘ I am one who hath sinnfed, and red e at thy lips l crave 1 ’ l\n\n, * MS=Mros 'iigltlzed by ~\n\nft —^ ~ M A Mk m. * m A . ^\n\nPARZIVAL\n\n415 As he spake the hermit answered, ‘ Right gladly I ’ll counsel thee,\n\nBut, say, what folk hast thou met with ? Who showed thee thy way to me ?\n\n‘ In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he spake,\n\nAnd kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to take,\n\nOn his track my steed came hither.’ Then answered the hermit old,\n\n490 ‘ ’Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told.\n\nA prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis’ king\nHath taken to wife—Fairer maidens no mother to earth did bring\nThan those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon thy road,\n\nOf a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode ! ’\n\n495 Then Parzival spake to the hermit, ‘ Now say, when thou saw’st me here,\n\n^ Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no touch of fear ? ’\nQuoth the hermit, ‘ Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for stag or bear\nHave I feared than I feared a man’s face, in sooth shalt thou be aware\nI fear me for no man living ! Both cunning and skill have I,\n\n430 And tho’ I were loath to vaunt me, yet I ne’er to this life did fly\nFor fear, as beseems a maiden 1 For never my heart did quail\nWhen I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne’er did my courage fail.\n\nIn the days when such things became me, in the days when I too might fight,\nI was arm&d as thou art arm&d, like thee did 1 ride, a knight!\n\n435 And I strove for high love’s rewarding, and many an evil thought\n^With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I wrought\nTo win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,\n\nAnd my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no more.’\n\n* Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there ’neath the rocky wall\n440 Thy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall fall,\n\nWill gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may be,\n\nYet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too ill with me ! ’\n\nBut Parzival deemed that surely ’twas unfitting a hermit old\nShould thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from his hand\nwithhold,\n\n445 ( Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive ’gainst thine host’s good-will,\n\nLet not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my counsel stilL’\n\nIn this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did the knight,\nAnd the charger he led ’neath the hillside where but seldom did sun-rays\nUght\n\nDigitized by VjOOQIC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nIn sooth ’twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed would stall, ^\nAnd thro’ it, from heights o’erhanging, foamed ever a water-fall * 5 °\n\nThe snow lay beneath our hero, no weakling was he, I ween,\n\nElse the frost and the cold of his harness o’er-much for his strength had been.\n\nTo a cavern the hermit led him where no breath of wind might blow,\n\nAnd a fire of coals had warmed it, and burned with a ruddy glow.\n\n—And here might the guest refresh him by the fire and a taper’s light, 455\n\n(Well strewn was the ground with fuel,) then swiftly the gallant knight\nLaid from off him his heavy armour, and warmed his limbs so cold,\n\nAnd his skin in the light glowed ruddy, and his face might the host behold.\n\nHe might well be of wandering weary, for never a trodden way\nNor a roof save the stars of heaven had he known for many a day. 460\n\nIn the daylight the wood had he ridden, and his couch, it had been the\nground:\n\n’Twas well that he here a shelter, and a kindly host had found!\n\nThen his host cast a robe around him, and he took him by his right hand,\n\nAnd he led him into a cavern where his Missal did open stand.\n\nAnd as fitted the Holy Season the Altar was stripped and bare; 465\n\nAnd the shrine—Parzival must know it, ’twas the spot where he once did\nswear\n\n\\ With true hand, true oath and faithful, that ended Jeschutd’s woe,\n\nAnd turned her tears to laughter, and taught her fresh joy to know!\n\nQuoth Parzival, ‘ Well I know it this chapel and shrine! Of yore,\n\nAs hither my wanderings led me, an oath on that shrine I swore; 470\n\nAnd a spear, with fair colours blazoned, that did here by the altar stand\nI bare hence, and in sooth, I think me, right well did it serve my hand !\n\nMen say it much honour brought me, yet I wot not if it be so,\n\nFor in thoughts of my wife had I lost me, and naught of the thing I know.\n\nYet, unwitting, two jousts had I ridden, and two foemen I overthrew, 475\n\nIn those days all men gave me honour, nor sorrow nor shame I knew.\n\nNow, alas ! is my sorrow greater than ever to man befell!\n\nSay, when did I bear the spear hence ? The days of my wanderings tell! ’\n\n* It was Taurian,’ quoth the hermit,* who his spear in my care did leave,\n\nAnd much did he mourn its losing, and I with the knight must grieve. 480\n\nDigitized by VjOOvIC\n\nPARZIVAL\n\n1 And four years and a half and three days shall have passed since we lost\n\\ the spear,\n\nSir Knight, an my word thou doubtest, behold! it is written here!'\n\nThen he showed unto him in the Psalter how the time it had come and gone,\nAnd the weeks and the years he read him that silent and swift had flown.\n\n4»S And he spake, 4 Now first do I learn them, the days that I aimless stray,\n\nAnd the weeks and the years that have vanished, since my joy hath been reft\naway.*\n\nAnd he spake, 1 Now indeed me-seemeth that my bliss it was but a dream,\nFor heavy the load of sorrow that so long hath my portion been 1 *\n\n4 And, Sir Host, I yet more would tell thee, where cloister or church shall be\n490 And men unto God give honour, there no eye hath looked on me,\n\nnaught but strife have I sought me, tho’ the time as thou sayst be long,\nf For I against God bear hatred, and my wrath ever waxeth strong.\n\nFor my sorrow and shame hath He cherished, and He watched them greater\ngrow\n\nTill too high they waxed, and my gladness, yet living, He buried low !\n\n495 And I think were God fain to help me other anchor my joy had found\n\nThan this, which so deep hath sunk it, and with sorrow hath closed it round.\nA man’s heart is mine, and sore wounded, it acheth, and acheth still,\n\nYet once was it glad and joyous, and free from all thought of ill!\n\nEre sorrow her crown of sorrow, thorn-woven, with stem hand pressed\n500 On the honour my hand had won me o’er many a foeman’s crest!\n\nAnd I do well to lay it on Him, the burden of this my shame,\n\nWho can help if He will, nor withholdeth the aid that men fain would claim.\nBut me alone, hath He helped not, whate’er men of Him may speak,\n\nBut ever He turaeth from me, and His wrath on my head doth wreak ! ’\n\n505 Then the hermit beheld him sighing, 4 Sir Knight, thou shalt put away\n.. Such madness, and trust God better, for His help will He never stay.\n\nAnd His aid to us here be given, yea, alike unto me and thee.\n\nBut ’ twefe best thou shouldst sit beside me, and tell here thy tale to me,\n\nAnd make to me free confession—How first did this woe begin ?\n\n5io What foe shall have worked such folly that God should thine hatred\nwin?\n\nYet first would I pray thee, courteous, to hearken the word 1 say,\n\nFor fain would I speak Him guiltless, ere yet thou thy plaint shall lay\n\nDigitized by vjiOO^IC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n'Gainst Him, Who denieth never unto sinful man His aid,\n\nBut ever hath answered truly, who truly to Him hath prayed.'\n\n4 Tho’ a layman I was yet ever in books might I read and learn 5*5\n\nHow men, for His help so faithful, should ne'er from His service turn.\n\nSince aid He begrudged us never, lest our soul unto Hell should fall,\n\nAnd as God Himself shall be faithful, be thou faithful whatever befall;\n\nFor false ways He ever hateth—and thankful we aye should be\n\nWhen we think of the deed, so gracious, once wrought of His love so free! 5 *>\n\nFor our sake the Lord of Heaven in the likeness of man was made,\n\nAnd Truth is His name, and His nature, nor from Truth shall He e'er have\nstrayed.\n\nAnd this shalt thou know most surely, God breaketh His faith with none .\n\nTeach thy thoughts ne’er from Him to waver, since Himself and His ways\nare One !’\n\n4 Wouldst thou force thy God with thine anger? He who heareth that thou 5*5\nhast sworn\n\nHatred against thy Maker, he shall hold thee of wit forlorn ! < ^_\n\n^Oi Lucifer now bethink thee, and of those who must share his fall,\n\nBethink thee, the angel nature was free from all taint of gall,\n\nSay, whence sprang that root of evil which spurred them to endless strife,\n\nAnd won its reward in Hell’s torments, and the death of an outcast life ? 530\n\nAshtaroth, Belcimon, and Belat, Rhadamant, yea, and many more!\n\nPride and anger the host of Heaven with Hell’s colours have painted o’er!’\n\n4 When Lucifer and his angels thus sped on their downward way,\n\nTo fill their place, a wonder God wrought from the earth and clay:\n\nThe son of His hands was Adam, and from flesh of Adam, Eve 535\n\nHe brought, and for Eve's transgression, I ween, all the world doth grieve.\n\nFor she hearkened not her Creator, and she robbed us of our bliss.\n\nAnd two sons sprang forth from her body, and the elder he wrought amiss,\n\nSince envy so worked upon him that from wrath there sprang disgrace,\n\nAnd of maidenhood did he rob her who was mother of all his race! 540\n\nHere many a one doth question, an the tale be to him unknown.\n\nHow might such a thing have chanc&d ? It came but by sin alone 1 ’\n\n< Quoth Parzival, 4 Now, I think me that never such thing might be,\n\nAnd ’ twere better thou shouldst keep silence, than tell such a tale to me !\n\nDigitized by vjOO^lC\n\nPARZIVAL\n\n545 For who should have borne the hither, whose son, as thou sayest, reft\nMaiddhhood from his hither’s mother ? Such riddle were better left 1 1\nBut the hermit again made answer, ‘ Now thy doubt will I put away,\n\nO’er my falsehood thou canst bemoan thee if the thing be not truth I say,\nFor the Earth was Adam’s mother, of the Earth was Adam fed,\n\n55 o And I ween, tho’ a man she bare here, yet still was the Earth a maid.\n\nAnd here will I read the riddle, he who robbed her of maidenhood\nWas Cain the son of Adam, who in wrath shed his brother’s blood\nFor as on the Earth, so stainless, the blood of the guiltless fell,\n\nHer maidenhood fled for ever! And true is the tale I tell.\n\n555 For wrath of man and envy, thro’ Cain did they wake to life,\n\nAnd ever from that day forward thro’ his sin there ariseth strife.’\n\n* Nor on earth shall aught be purer than a maiden undefiled,\n\nThink how pure must be a maiden, since God was a Maiden’s Child I\nTwo men have been bom of maidens, and God hath the likeness ta’en\nS 6 ^ Of the son of the first Earth-Maiden, since to help us He aye was fain.\n\nThus grief alike and gladness from the seed of Adam spring,\n\nSince He willed to be Son of Adam, Whose praises the angels sing.\n\nAnd yet have we sin as our birthright, and sin’s pain must we ever bear,\n\nNor its power may we flee 1 Yet pity He feeleth for our despair,\n\n5^5 Whose Strength is aye linked with Mercy, and with Mercy goes hand in\nhand,\n\nAnd for man, as a Man, He suffered, and did falsehood by truth withstand.’\n\n‘ No longer be wroth with thy Maker! If thou wouldst not thy soul were lost—\nAnd here for thy sin do penance, nor longer thus rashly boast,\n\nFor he who, with words untam&d, is fain to avenge his wrong,\n\n570 His own mouth shall, I ween, speak his judgment ere ever the time be long.\nLearn faith from the men of old-time, whose rede ever waxeth new,\n\nFor Plato alike and the Sibyls in their day spake words so true,\n\nAnd long years ere the time had ripened His coming they did foretell\nWho made for our sin’s Atonement, and drew us from depths of HelL\n575 God’s Hand from those torments took us, and God’s Love lifted us on high.\nBut they who His love disdained, they yet in Hell’s clutches lie! ’\n\n| * From the lips of the whole world’s Lover came a message of love and peace,\n(For He is a Light all-lightening, and never His faith doth cease,)\n\nDigitized by VjOO^lC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nAnd he to whom love He showeth, findeth aye in that Love his bliss,\n\nYet twofold I ween is the message, and His token some read amiss; 580\n\nFor the world may buy, as it pleaseth, God's Wrath or His Love so great.\n\nSay, which of the twain wilt thou choose here, shall thy guerdon be Love or\nHate?\n\nFor the sinner without repentance, he flieth God's faith and Face,\n\nBut he who his sin confessed*, doth find in His presence grace 1 '\n\n* From the shrine of his heart, who shall keep Him ? Tho’ hidden the thought 585\nwithin,\n\nAnd secret, and thro’ its darkness no sunbeam its way may win,\n\n(For thought is a secret chamber, fast locked, tho’ no lock it bear,)\n\nYet, tho* against man it be dos&d, God’s light ever shineth there.\n\nHe pierceth the wall of darkness, and silent and swift His spring,\n\nAs no sound betrayed His coming, as no footstep was heard to ring, 590\n\nSo silent His way He goeth—And swift as our thoughts have flown,\n\nEre God passed of our heart the threshold, our thoughts unto Him were\nknown I\n\nAnd the pure in heart He chooseth; he who doth an ill deed begin,\n\nSince God knoweth the thoughts of all men, full sorely shall rue his sin.\n\nAnd the man who by deeds God’s favour doth forfeit, what shall he gain^y 595\nTho’ the world count him honour-worthy, his soul seeketh rest in vain. ^—,\n\nAnd where wilt thou seek for shelter if God as thy foeman stand,\n\nWho of wrath or of love giveth payment, as men serve Him, with equal hand ?\nThou art lost if thy God be against thee—If thou wouldst His favour earn,\n\nThen away from thy wrath and thy folly thy thoughts to His goodness turn ! ’ 600\n\nQuoth Parzival, 4 Here I thank thee, from my heart, that such faithful rede\nThou hast given of him who withholdeth from no man his rightful meed,\n\nBut evil, as good, requiteth—Yet my youth hath been full of care,\n\nAnd my faith hath but brought me sorrow, and ill to this day I fare ! ’\n\nThen the hermit he looked on the Waleis, * If a secret be not thy grief, 605\nRight willing thy woe I ’ll hearken, I may bring thee perchance relief;\n\nOf some co un sel m ay I bethink me such as yet to thyself dost fail! ’\n\n' Quoth Parzival, * Of my sor rows the chiefest is for the Grail, J\n\nfor mv wife-J yrfone fairer e’er hung on a mother’s breast,\n\nFor the twain is my heart yet yearning, with desire that ne’er findeth rest’; 610\n\nDigitized by VjOO^IC\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nQuoth his host, ‘ Well, Sir Knight, thou speakest, such sorrow is good to\nbear;\n\nIf thus for the wife of thy bosom thy heart knoweth grief and care,\n\nAnd Death find thee a faithful husband, tho* Hell vex thee with torments\ndire\n\n, Yet thy pains shall be swiftly ended, God will draw thee from out Hell-fire.\n61 f But if for the Grail thou grievest, then much must I mourn thy woe,\n\nO ! foolish man, since fruitless thy labours, for thou shalt know\n! That none win the Grail save those only whose names are in Heaven known’\n' Vjjhey who to the Grail do service, they are chosen of God alone ;\n\nAnd mine eyes have surely seen this, and sooth is the word I say! ’\n\n6 ao Quoth Parzival, ‘Thou hast been there?* ‘Sir Knight,* quoth the hermit,\n‘Yea!*\n\nBut never a word spake our hero of the marvels himself had seen,\n\nBut he asked of his host the story, and what men by ‘ The Grail ’ should\nmean ?\n\nSpake the hermit, ‘ Full well do I know this, that many a knightly hand\nServeth the Grail at Monsalvasch, and from thence, throughout all the\nland,\n\n625 On many a distant journey these gallant Templars fare,\n\nWhether sorrow or joy befall them, for their sins they this penance bear ! *\n\n‘ And this brotherhood so gallant, dost thou know what to them shall give\nTheir life, and their strength and their valour—then know, by a stone they\nlive,\n\nAnd that stone is both pure and precious—Its name hast thou never heard ?\n630 Men call it Lapis Exilis —by its magic the wondrous bird,\n\nThe Phoenix, becometh ashes, and yet doth such virtue flow\nFrom the stone, that afresh it riseth renewed from the ashes glow,\n\nAnd the plumes that erewhile it moulted spring forth yet more fair and\nbright—\n\nAnd tho’ faint be the man and feeble, yet the day that his failing sight\n635 Beholdeth the stone, he dies not, nor can, till eight days be gone,\n\nNor his countenance wax less youthful—If one daily behold that stone,\n\n(If a man it shall be, or a maiden *tis the same,) for a hundred years.\n\nIf they look on its power, their hair groweth not grey, and their face appears\nThe same as when first they saw it, nor their flesh nor their bone shall foil\n640 But young they abide for ever—And this stone all men call the Grail*\n\nDigitized by vjOOQ LC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n‘ And Its holiest power, and the highest shall I ween be renewed to-day,\n\nFor ever upon Good Friday a messenger takes her way. .\n\nFrom the height of the highest Heaven a Dove on her flight doth wing, *\n\nAnd a Host, so white and holy, she unto the stone doth bring. '\n\nAnd she layeth It down upon It; and white as the Host the Dove 645\n\nThat, her errand done, swift wingeth her way to the Heaven above.\n\nThus ever upon Good Friday doth it chance as I tell to thee:\n\nAnd the stone from the Host receiveth all good that on earth may be\nOf food or of drink, the earth beareth as the fulness of Paradise. t\n\nAll wild things in wood or in water, and all that ’neath Heaven flies, \\ 650\n\nTo that brotherhood are they given, a pledge of God’s favour fair,\n\nFor His servants He ever feedeth and the Grail for their needs doth care !’\n\n!\n\n‘ Now hearken, the Grail’s elect ones, say who doth their service claim ?\n\nOn the Grail, in a mystic writing, appeareth each chosen name, !\n\nIf a man it shall be, or a maiden, whom God calls to this journey blest \\ g 55\n\nAnd the message no man eftaceth, till all know the high behest,\n\nBut when all shall the name have read there, as it came, doth the writing\ngo:\n\nAs children the Grail doth call them, ’neath its shadow they wax and grow.\n\nAnd blessM shall be the mother whose child doth the summons hear,\n\nRich and poor alike rejoiceth when the messenger draweth near, 660\n\nAnd the Grail son or daughter daimeth 1 They are gathered from every\nland,\n\nAnd ever from shame and sorrow are they sheltered, that holy band. ]\n\nIn Heaven is their rewarding, if so be that they needs must die,\n\nThen bliss and desire’s fulfilment are waiting them all on high ! ’ I\n\n4 They who took no part in the conflict, when Lucifer would fight 665\n\nWith the Three-in-One, those angels were cast forth from Heaven’s height.\n\nTo the earth they came at God’s bidding, and that wondrous stone did\ntend,\n\nNor was It less pure for their service, yet their task found at last an end.\n\nI know not if God forgave them, or if they yet deeper fell,\n\nThis one thing I know of a surety, what God doeth, He doeth well! 670\n\nBut ever since then to this service nor maiden nor knight shall fail,\n\nFor God calleth them all as shall please Him 1 —and so standeth it with the\n\nGrail l’\n\nDigitized by\n\nGoogle\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nQuoth Parzival, ‘ So, since knighthood may conquer, with spear and shield,\nBoth the fame of this life, and the blessing which Paradise shall yield,\n\n675 Since my soul ever longed for knighthood, and I fought where’er strife\nmight be,\n\nAnd my right hand hath neared full often the guerdon of victory,\n\nIf God be the God of battles, if He know how a man should fight,\n\nLet Him name me as one of His servants, of the Grail let Him make me\nknight!\n\nThey shall own that I fear no danger, nor from strife would I turn aside ! ’\n\n• 680 But the hermit made answer gently, ‘ First must thou beware of pride,\n\nFor lightly may.youth mislead thee; and the grace of humility\nMayst thou lose, and the proud God doth punish, as full surely is known to me l 1\nAnd tears filled his eyes to o’erflowing, and his sad thoughts awhile did turn\nTo a story of old, and our hero he bade from its lesson learn.\n\n685 And he quoth, 4 Sir Knight, at Monsalvasch a king reigned in days of yore,\nHis name all men know as Anfortas, and 1 weep for him evermore.\n\nYea, and thou too shalt mourn his sorrow, for bitter the woe, I ween,\n\nAnd the torment of heart and body that his guerdon from pride hath been.\nFor his youth and his worldly riches they led him an evil road,\n\n690 And he sought for Frau Minne’s favour in paths where no peace abode.’\n\n* But the Grail all such ways forbiddeth, and both knight alike and squire\nWho serve the Grail must guard them from the lust of untamed desire.\n\nBy meekness their pride must be conquered, if they look for a heavenly prize\nAnd the brotherhood holdeth hidden the Grail from all stranger eyes :\n\n695 By their warlike skill and prowess the folk from the lands around,\n\nThey keep afar, and none knoweth where the Grail and Its Burg are found\nSave those whom the Grail shall summon within Monsalvasch’ wall—\n\n. Yet one, uncalled, rode thither and evil did then befall,\n\nFor foolish he was, and witless, and sin-laden from thence did fare,\n\n700 Since he asked not his host of his sorrow and the woe that he saw him bea:\nNo man would I blame, yet this man, I ween, for his sins must pay,\n\nSince he asked not the longed-for question which all sorrow had put away.\n(Sore laden his host with suffering, earth knoweth no greater pain.)\n\nAnd before him King Lahelein came there, and rode to the Lake Brimbanr\n705 Libb&als, the gafant hero, a joust there was fain to ride,\n\nAnd Lahelein lifeless left him, on the grass by the water-side,\n\nDigitized by * Google\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n(Prienlascours, methinks, was his birthplace) and his slayer then led away\nHis charger, so men knew the evil thus wrought by his hand that day.’\n\n‘And I think me, Sir Knight, thou art Lahelein ? For thou gavest unto my care f\nA steed that such token showeth as the steeds of the Grail Knights bear 1 V 10\n\nFor the white dove 1 see on its housing, from Monsalvasch it surely came ? 1\nSuch arms did Anfortas give them while joy yet was his and fame. \\\n\nTheir shields bare of old the token, Titurel gave it to his son\n| Frimutel, and such shield bare that hero when his death in a joust he won.\n\nFor his wife did he love so dearly no woman was loved so well 7*5\n\nBy man, yet in truth and honour,—and the same men of thee shall tell\nIf thou wakenest anew old customs, and thy wife from thine heart dost love-^\nHold thou fast to such fair example lest thy steps from the right path\nrovel\n\nAnd in sooth thou art wondrous like him who once o’er the Grail did reign,\n\nSay, what is thy race ? whence art thou ? and tell me I pray thy name ! ’ 7 20\n\nEach gazed for a space on the other, and thus quoth Parzival,\n\n‘ Son am I to a king and hero who through knightly coftrage fell,\n\nIn a joust was he slain—Now 1 pray thee, Sir Hermit, of this thy grace,\n\nThat thou, in thy prayers henceforward, wilt give to his name a place.\n\nKnow, Gamuret, did they call him, and he came from fair Anjou— 725\n\nSir Host I am not Lahelein; if ever such sin 1 knew\n’Twas in my days of folly, yet in truth have I done the same,\n\nHere I make of my guilt confession, and my sin unto thee I name,\n\nFor the prince who once fell a victim unto my sinful hand\n\nWas he whom men called ‘ the Red Knight,’ Prince Ither of Cumberland. 73 °\n\n1 On the greensward I lifeless stretched him, and as at my feet he lay,\n\nI Harness, and horse, and weapons, as my booty I bare away! ’\n\nSpake the host as his words were ended, (the tale he ill pleased must hear,)\n\n‘ Ah ! world, wherefore deal thus with us ? since sorrow and grief and fear\nFar more than delight dost thou give us ! Say, is this thy reward alone ? 735\n\nFor ever the song that thou singest doth end in a mournful tone ! ’\n\nAnd he spake, ‘ O thou son of my sister, what rede may I give to thee?\n\nSince the knight thou hast slain in thy folly, thy flesh and thy blood was he!\n\nIf thou, blood-guiltiness bearing, shalt dare before God to stand,\n\nFor one blood were ye twain, to God’s justice thy life shall repay thine 740\n\nVOL Google g\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nSay, for Ither of Gaheviess fallen, what payment dost think to give ?\n\nThe crown he of knightly honour! God gave him, while he might live,\n\nAll that decketh man’s life; for all evil his true heart did truly mourn,\n\nTrue balsam was he of the faithful, to honour and glory born.\n\n745 And shame fled before his coming, and truth in his heart did dwell,\n\nAnd for love of his lovely body many women shall hate thee well!\n\nFor well did they love his coming, and to serve them he aye was fun,\n\nBut their eyes that shone fair for his fairness he ne’er shall rejoice again !\nNow, may God show His mercy to thee whose hand hath such evil wrought,\n7 So Herzeleide the queen, thy mother, thou too to her death hast brought—*\n\n4 Nay ! Nay ! not so, holy father! What sayest thou ? ’ quoth Parzival,\n\n4 Of what dost thou here accuse me ? Were I king o’er the wondrous Grail\nNot all Its countless riches would repay me if this be sooth,\n\nThese words that thy lips have spoken ! And yet if I, in very truth,\n\n755 Be son unto thy sister, then show that thou mean’st me well,\n\nAnd say, without fear or falsehood, are these things true that thou dost tell? 5\n\nf Then the hermit he spake in answer, 4 Ne’er learnt I to deceive,\n\nJ Thy mother she died of sorrow in the day thou her side didst leave,\n\n/ Such rewarding her love won for her ! Thou wast the beast that hung\n760 On her breast* the wing&d dragon that forth from her body sprung,\n\nThat spread its wings and left her: in a dream was it all foretold\nEre yet the sorrowing mother the babe to her breast did hold! ’\n\n4 And two other sisters had I, Schoisianfc she was one;\n\nShe bare a child—Woe is me, her death thro’ this birth she won !\n\n765 Duke Kiot of Katelangen was her husband, and since that day\nAll wordly joy and honour he putteth from him away.\n\nSigun£, their little daughter, was left to thy mother’s care:\n\nAnd sorrow for Schoisianfe in my heart do I ever bear!\n\nSo true was her heart and faithful, an ark ’gainst the flood of sin.\n\n770 A maiden, my other sister, her pure life doth honour win,\ni For the Grail she ever tendeth— R&panse de Schoie, her name,\n\n' Tho’ none from Its place may move It whose heart showeth taint of shame,\n\n! In her hands is It light as a feather—And brother unto us twain\nI Is Anfortas, by right of heirship he king o’er the Grail doth reign;\n\n775 And he knoweth not joy, but sorrow, yet one hope I ween is his,\n\nThat his pain shall at last be turned to delight and to endless bliss.\n\nDigitized by VjOOQlC\n\nTREVREZENT\n\n27 S\n\nAnd wondrous the tale of his sorrow, as, nephew, 1 ’ll tell to thee,\n\nAnd if true be thine heart and faithful his grief shall thy sorrow be!’\n\n‘When he died, Frimutel, our father, they chose them his eldest son\nAs Lord of the Grail and Its knighthood, thus Anfoitas his kingdom won, (780\nAnd of riches and crown was he worthy, and we were but children still— \\\n\nWhen he came to the years of manhood, when love joyeth to work her will\nOn the heart, and his lips were fringed with the down of early youth,\n\nFrau Minne laid stress upon him who for torment hath little ruth.\n\nBut if love the Grail King seeketh other than he find writ, , 785\n\nTis a sin, and in sorrow and sighing full sore shall he pay for it! ’\n\n‘And my lord and brother chose him a lady for service fair,\n\nNoble and true he deemed her, 1 say not what name she bare;\n\nWell he fought in that lady’s honour, and cowardice from him fled,\n\nAnd his hand many a shield-rim shattered, by love’s fire was he venture led. 790\n\nSo high stood his fame that no hero in knightly lands afar\n\nCould he brook to be thought his equal, so mighty his deeds of war,\n\nAnd his battle-cry was “ Amor,” yet it seemeth unto me\nNot all too well such cry suiteth with a life of humility.’ )\n\n‘ One day as the king rode lonely, in search of some venture high 795\n\n(Sore trouble it brought upon us,) with love’s payment for victory,\n\nFor love’s burden lay heavy on him, in a joust was he wounded sore\nWith a poisoned spear, so that healing may be wrought on him nevermore.\n\nFor thine uncle, the King Anfortas, he was smitten thro’ the thigh jj j\n\nBy a heathen who with him battled, for he jousted right skilfully. ( 800\n\nHe came from the land of Ethnisd, where forth from fair Paradise\nFlow the streams of the River Tigris, and he thought him, that heathen wise,\n\nHe should win the Grail, and should hold It—On his spear had he graven\nhis name,\n\nFrom afar sought he deeds of knighthood, over sea and land he came.\n\nThe fame of the Grail drew him thither, and evil for us his strife, 805\n\nHis hand joy hath driven from us and clodded with grief our life ! ’\n\n‘ But thine uncle had battled bravely and men praised his name that day—\nWith the spear-shaft yet fast in his body ^e ^epd^dchif homeward way.\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nf And weeping arose and wailing as he came once again to his own,\n\n|8io And dead on the field lay his foeman, nor did we for his death make moan!’\n\n‘When the king came, all pale and bloodless, and feeble of strength and limb,\nThen a leech stretched his hand to the spear-wound, and the iron he found\nfast within,\n\nWith the hilt, wrought of reed, and hollow, and the twain from the wound\nhe drew.\n\nThen I fell on my knees, and I vowed me to God, with a heart so true,\n\n815 That henceforward the pride of knighthood, and its fame, would I know no\nmore,\n\nIf but God would behold my brother and would succour his need so sore.\nThen flesh, wine, and bread I forswore there, and all food that by blood\nmight live,\n\nThat lust might no longer move me my life 1 to God would give,\n\nAnd I tell thee, O son of my sister, that the wailing arose anew\nWhen my weapons I put from off me and ungirded my sword so true,\n\nAnd they spake, * Who shall guard our mysteries ? who shall watch o’er the\nwondrous Grail?’\n\nAnd tears fell from the eyes of the maidens, but their weeping might naught\navail!\n\n/ ‘ To the Grail, then, they bare Anfortas, if Its virtue might bring relief;\n\nBut, alas! when his eyes beheld It yet heavier waxed his grief\n895 As the life sprang afresh within him, and he knew that he might not die ;\n\nAnd he liveth, while here I hide me in this life of humility,\n\n| And the power of the Grail, and Its glory, with their monarch have waxen\nweak.\n\n' For the venom, his wound that poisoned, tho’ the leeches their books did seek\nYet found they nor help nor healing—Yea, all that their skill might learn\n830 ’Gainst the poison of Aspis, Elkontiiis, of Liseis, and Ecidemon,\n\nAll spells ’gainst the worm empoisoned, ’gainst Jecis or Mektris;\n\nOr all that a wise man knoweth of roots or of herbs; I wis\nNaught was there in all might help him; nor rede I a longer tale\nSince God willeth not his healing what man’s skill may aught avail ?’\n\n835 ‘Then we sent to the mystic waters, in a far-off land they rise,\n\nPison, Gihon, Tigris, Euphrates, the rivers of Paradise,\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nni\n\nAnd so near they flow that the perfumes which breathe from its scented air\nShall yet to their streams be wafted—If their waters perchance might bear\nSome plant from the wondrous garden that might succour us in our woe,\n\nBut vain thought, and fruitless labour, fresh sorrow our heart did know! ’ 840\n\n* Nor here did we end our labour, for again for the bough we sought\nWhich the Sibyl unto ./Eneas as a shield ’gainst Hell’s dangers brought\n’Gainst the smoke and the fire of Phlegethon, and the rivers that flow in Hell\nWould it guard, and for long we sought it, for we thought, if such chance\n\nbefell\n\nThat the spear in Hell-fire was welded, and the poison from Hell did spring 845\nThat thus of our joy had robbed us, then this bough might salvation bring ! ’\n\n* But Hell, it knew naught of the poison ! There liveth a wondrous bird\nWho loveth tbo well her fledglings—Of the Pelican’s love we heard,\n\nHow she teareth her breast and feedeth her young with the quickening food\nOf her own life-blood, and then dieth—So we took of that bird the blood, 850\nSince we thought that her love might help us, and we laid it upon the sore\nAs best we could—Yet, I wot well, no virtue for us it bore! ’\n\n‘ A strange beast, the Unicorn, liveth, and it doth in such honour keep\nThe heart of a spotless maiden that it oft at her knee will sleep.\n\nAnd the heart of that beast we took us, and we took us the red-fire stone 855\nThat lies ’neath its horn, if the king’s wound might its healing virtue own.\n\nAnd we laid on the wound the carbuncle, and we put it the wound within,\n\nYet stillwas the sore empoisoned nor aid from the stone might win ! ’\n\n* And sore with the king we sorrowed—Then a magic herb we found,\n\n(Men say, from the blood of a dragon it springeth from out the ground,) 860\nWith the stars, and the wind, and the heaven, close-bound, doth it win its\npower,\n\nLest perchance, by the flight of the dragon, when the stars bring the circling\nhour,\n\nAnd the moon draweth near to her changing, (for sorer then grows the paint)\n\nThe herb might our grief have aided—Yet its magic we sought in vain \\y*\n\n1 Then the knights of the Grail knelt lowly, and for help to the Grail they 865\nprayed,\n\nAnd, behold! the mystic writing, and a promise it brought of aid,\n\n*78\n\nPAR2IVAL\n\n| For a knight should come to the castle, and so soon as he asked the king\nOf the woe that so sorely pained him his question should healing bring.)\nBut let them beware, man or maiden, or child, should they warn the knight\n870 Of his task, he no healing bringeth, greater waxeth the sorrow’s might\nAnd the writing it ran, ‘Ye shall mark this, forewarning shall bring but ill,\nAnd in the first night of his coming must the healer his task fulfil,\n\nOr the question shall lose its virtue; but if at the chosen hour\nHe shall speak, his shall be the kingdom, and the evil hath lost its power.\n875 So the hand of the Highest sendeth to Anfortas the end of woe,\n\nYet King shall he be no longer tho’ healing and bliss he know.’\n\n/‘Thus we read in the Grail that our sorrow should come to an end that day\nThat the knight should come who the meaning of the grief that he saw\nshould pray—\n\nThen salve of Nard we took us, and Teriak, and the wound we dressed,\n\n880 And we burnt wood of Lignum Aloe for so might the king find rest\nYet ever he suffereth sorely—Then fled I unto this place,\n\nAnd my life little gladness knoweth till my brother hath gotten grace.\n\nAnd the knight, he hath come, and hath left us, and ill for us all that day,\n(But now did I speak of his coming,) sorrow-laden he rode away,\n\n885 For he saw his host’s woe and asked not, ‘What aileth thee here, mine\nhost?’\n\nSince his folly such words forbade him great bliss shall he there have lost! ’\n\n*\n\nThen awhile did they mourn together till the mid-day hour drew near,\n\nAnd the host spake, ‘We must be seeking for food, and thine horse, 1 fear,\nAs yet shall be lacking fodder; nor know I how we shall feed\n890 If not God in His goodness show us the herbs that shall serve our need,\n\nMy kitchen but seldom smoketh! Forgive thou the lack to-day,\n\nAnd abide here, so long as shall please thee, if thy journey shall brook delay.\nOf plants and of herbs would I teach thee much lore, if so be the grass\nWere not hidden by snow—God grant us that this cold may be soon\no’erpast—\n\n895 Now break we yew-boughs for thy charger, far better its fare hath been\nErewhile ’neath the roof of Monsalvasch than shall here be its lot I ween !\nYet never a host shall ye meet with who rider alike and steed\nWould as gladly bid share of his substance as I, had I all ye need 1 9\n\nTREVREZENT\n\nThen the twain they went forth on their errand—Parzival for his steed had\ncare,\n\nWhile the hermit for roots was seeking since no better might be their fare; 900\nAnd the host his rule forgat not, he ate naught, whate’er he found,\n\nTill the ninth hour, but ever hung them, as he drew them from out the\nground,\n\nOn the nearest shrub, and there left them; many days he but ill might fare\nFor God’s honour, since oft he lost them, the shrubs which his roots did bear.\n\nNor grudged they aught of their labour: then they knelt by the streamlet’s 905\nflow,\n\nAnd the roots and the herbs they washed there, and no laughter their lips\nmight know.\n\nThen their hands they washed, and the yew-boughs Parzival together bound\nAnd bare them unto his charger ere the cavern again he found;\n\nThen the twain by the fireside sat them, nor further might food be brought,\n\nNor on roast nor on boiled they fed them, nor found in their kitchen 910\naught\n\nYet so true was the love and the honour Parzival to the hermit bare\nThat he deemed he enough had eaten, and no better had been his fare\nWith Gumemanz of Graharz, or e’en in Monsalvasch hall,\n\nWhen the maidens passed fair before him and the Grail fed them each and\nall.\n\nThen his kindly host quoth, 4 Nephew, despise not this food, for know 915\nLightly thou shalt not find one who shall favour and kindness show,\n\nOf true heart, without fear of evil, as fain would I show to thee.’\n\nAnd Parzival quoth, 4 May God’s favour henceforward ne’er light on me\nIf food ever better pleased me, or I ate with a better will\nWhat a host ever set before me, such fare doth content me still.’\n\nTheir hands they need not wash them for such food as before them lay,\n\n’Twas no fish, that their eyes had harm&d as men oft are wont to say.\n\nAnd were I or hawk or falcon I had lent me to the chase,\n\nNor stooped to the lure unwilling, nor fled from my master’s face,\n\nBut an they no better fed jne than at noontide they fed, these twain, 9*5\n\nI had spread my wings right swiftly, nor come to their call again !\n\nDigitized by VjUUVlL\n\n28 o\n\nPARZIVAL\n\nWhy mock at this folk so faithful ? ’Twas ever my way of old—\n\nYet ye know why, forsaking riches, they chose to them want and cold.\n\nAnd the lack of all things joyful, such sorrow and grief of heart\nThey bare of true heart, God-fearing, nor had they in falsehood part;\n\n930 And thus from the hand of the Highest they won payment for grief and\nwoe,\n\nAnd alike should the twain God’s favour, as of old, so hereafter know.\n\nThen up stood they again, and they gat them, Parzival and the holy man,\nTo the steed in its rocky stable, and full sadly the host began\n935 As he spake to the noble charger, ‘ Woe is me for thy scanty fare,\n\nFor the sake of the saddle upon thee and the token I see thee bear! ’\n\n94 °'\n\nWhen their care for the horse was ended, then sorrow sprang forth anew,\nf^Quoth Parzival, ‘ Host and uncle, my folly I needs must rue,\n\n\\ And fain would I tell the story if for shame I the word may speak;\no\\ Forgive me, I pray, of thy kindness, since in thee do I comfort seek,\n\nFor sorely, I ween, have I sinn&d; if thou canst no comfort find\nNo peace may be mine, but for ever the chains of remorse shall bind.\n\n/Of true heart shalt thou mourn my folly—He who to Monsalvasch rode,\n\nI He who saw Anfortas’ sorrow, he who spake not the healing word,\n\n94 | ’Twas I, child and heir of misfortune, ’twas I, Parzival, alone,\n\n* Ill have I wrought, and I know not how I may for such ill atone ! ’\n\n95 <\n\n^ Spake the hermit, ‘Alas ! my nephew, thou speakest the words of woe,\nVanished our joy, and sorrow henceforth must we grasp and know,\n\nSince folly of bliss betrayed thee : senses five did God give to thee,\n\n• And methinks, in the hour of thy testing, their counsel should better be.\nWhy guarded they not thine honour, and thy love as a man to men,\n\nIn the hour that thou satst by Anfortas? Of a truth hadst thou spoken\nthen!’\n\nI 4 Nor would I deny^hee counsel; mourn not for thy fault too sore,\n\nMThou shalt, in a fitting measure, bewail thee, and grief give o’er.\n\n95 * For strange are the ways, and-fitful, of mankind, oft is youth too wise\nAnd old age turaeth back to folly, and darkened are wisdom’s eyes,\n\nAnd the fruit of a life lieth forfeit, while green youth doth wax old and\nfade—\n\nNot in this wise true worth shall be rooted, and payment in praise be pai