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Title: Parzival (vol. 2 of 2) - A Knightly Epic (volumes 1 & 2)
Author: Eschenback, Wolfram von
Language: English
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PARZIVAL
VOL. II
PARZIVAL
A KNIGHTLY EPIC
BY
WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH
TRANSLATED BY
JESSIE L. WESTON
VOL. II
ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894.
NEW YORK
G. E. STECHERT & CO.,
1912.
CONTENTS
PAGE
X. ORGELUSE 1
XI. ARNIVE 29
XII. EIDEGAST 47
XIII. KLINGSOR 71
XIV. GRAMOFLANZ 101
XV. FEIREFIS 133
XVI. LOHENGRIN 163
APPENDICES 189
NOTES 201
BOOK X
ORGELUSE
ARGUMENT
Book X. relates how Gawain, after various adventures, fell in with a
maiden and a wounded knight, how he succoured the knight and rode to
Logrois. How he met with Orgelusé and wooed her, and how she repaid
him with scorn. How the squire Malcréature mocked Sir Gawain, and how
the knight Urian stole his charger. How Lischois Giwellius fought with
Gawain and was conquered, and of the tribute due to the Master Boatman.
How Gawain came to Terre de Merveil, and was well entreated by the
Boatman and his daughter Bené.
BOOK X
Now tell we of strange adventures thro' which joy shall be
waxen low,
And yet pride shall grow the greater, of the twain doth this
story show.
Now the year of truce was ended, when the strife must needs
be fought
Which the Landgrave unto King Arthur at Plimizöl had brought.
At Schamfanzon he challenged Gawain to meet him at Barbigöl, 5
Yet still unavenged was Kingrisein at the hand of
Kingrimursel--
In sooth, Vergulacht, he rode there, and thither had come
Gawain,
And the whole world was 'ware of their kinship nor might
strife be betwixt the twain;
For the murder, Count Eckunât did it, and Gawain must they
guiltless hold,
At rest did they lay their quarrel and friends were those
heroes bold. 10
Then they parted for both would ride thence, Vergulacht and
the knight Gawain,
Tho' both for the Grail were seeking yet apart would they
ride, those twain.
And many a joust must they ride now, for he who the Grail
would see
Sword in hand must he draw anigh it, and swift must his
seeking be!
Now all that befell to Gawain, the lot of that blameless
knight 15
Since he rode forth from fair Schamfanzon, if he oft on his
way must fight,
Ye shall ask of those who there saw him, since naught may I
tell ye here,
Yet hearken, and heed the story and the venture that draweth
near.
One morning Gawain rode gaily o'er a grassy plain and green,
When a shield, in the sun fair shining, with lance-thrust
pierced thro' was seen, 20
And a charger stood beside it that bare women's riding-gear,
And the bridle and aye the housing were of costly stuff and
dear--
And the charger and shield beside it were bound to a linden
tree.
Then he thought, 'Who shall be this woman? for valiant I ween
is she,
Since she beareth a shield so knightly--If she thinketh with
me to fight, 25
How, then, may I best withstand her? Were it better to here
alight?
If too long she wrestle with me perchance I were overthrown,
If hatred or love I shall win here I will fight her on foot
alone;
Yea, e'en an she were Kamilla, who before Laurentium fought--
Did she live still to battle with me, as awhile she for
honour sought, 30
I would face her, nor fear her prowess, if here she my foe
would be,
Tho' ne'er with a maid have I foughten and the chance seemeth
ill to me!'
Battle-hewn was the shield and dinted, as Gawain right well
espied
The nearer he rode unto it, and pierced with a lance-thrust
wide.
Such token by joust is painted, little payment his skill
should know 35
Whose hand erst the shield had fashioned an he thought him to
paint it so!
By the trunk of the mighty linden sat a maid on the grass so
green,
And sore did she weep and bewail her, and joyless, I wot, her
mien.
Then around the tree rode Gawain, and lo! on her knee she
bore
A knight, and she wept above him, and grieved with a sorrow
sore. 40
Fair greeting Sir Gawain proffered, she thanked him and bowed
her low,
And hoarse was her voice thro' weeping and weakened thro'
force of woe.
Then down to the ground sprang Gawain, for the knight he was
like to choke,
Since the blood welled within his body, and unto the maid he
spoke,
And he asked if the knight were living, or should now in the
death-throe be? 45
And she spake, 'He dieth surely, yet but now alive was he,
God hath sent thee unto my succour, now help me with word and
deed,
Such wounds shalt thou oft have looked on, give counsel in
this my need!'
'Yea, gladly I'll aid thee, Lady, from death shall thy knight
be freed,
And healing I well might win him an there were but at hand a
reed. 50
Thou shalt see him, and hearken to him, nor his life shall be
waxen less,
The wound is not all too dangerous, but the blood on his
heart doth press.'
Then he stripped from a bough of the linden the bark, and did
wind it round,
(No fool he in art of healing,) and he set it unto the wound,
And he bade the maiden suck it till the blood should toward
her flow-- 55
And strength came again and hearing, and the voice of the
knight they know,
And he looked on Gawain, and he thanked him, and said he
should honoured be
In that from his woe he had freed him, and he asked of him,
whence came he?
Rode he hither in search of knighthood? 'From far Punturtois
I came
In search of such knightly venture as should win for me meed
of fame, 60
Yet sorely must I bewail me for the ill that I here have won,
Sir Knight, an thy senses fail not, 'twere better this way to
shun!'
'Such evil I little looked for--'Twas Lischois Giwellius
Who hath wounded me so sorely, and down from my charger
thrust:
Fair was the joust and knightly, and he pierced me thro'
shield and side, 65
On her steed this maiden helped me, and hither hath been my
guide!'
Then he prayed Gawain to abide there, but he spake, he the
place would see
Where such evil had chanced unto him, 'If Logrois thus near
shall be,
Perchance I shall yet o'ertake him, he shall answer to me, I
trow,
For the deed he hath done, and his reason for vengeance on
thee I'll know!' 70
But the wounded knight spake, 'Not so, for true are the words
I say,
And no child's play shall be this journey, great perils beset
the way.'
With the band from the maiden's tresses Gawain the wound did
bind,
And spake o'er it spells of healing, and he bade them their
comfort find
In God, since He cares for all men--With blood was their
pathway red, 75
And crimson the grass besprinkled as a stag had its
life-blood shed;
Thus he rode not astray, and in short space did Logrois
before him stand--
A fortress so fair and stately, its praise was in every land.
'Twas a stately Burg well builded, and it wound the hillside
round,
From afar as a mighty circlet the fortress the summit
crowned. 80
E'en to-day men this honour give it, its wall shall be
stormed in vain,
For it openeth its gates to no foeman, whose hatred soe'er it
gain!
And a garden lay green around it, 'twas planted with trees so
fair,
Olive, pomegranate, fig-tree, and the vine which its grapes
doth bear,
And gaily they grew and flourished--as Gawain rode that
garden bright 85
He saw there what wrought him sorrow, yet filled him with all
delight!
A streamlet gushed forth from the hillside, there he saw that
which grieved him naught,
A lady so fair to look on that gladly her face he sought.
The flower was she of all women, save Kondwiramur alone
No fairer form nor feature might ever on earth be known. 90
So sweet and so bright to look on, so courteous and royal of
mien,
Orgelusé, was she, of Logrois, and men say that in her was
seen
The charm that desire awakeneth, a balm for the eyes of care,
For no heart but was drawn toward her, and no mouth but would
speak her fair!
Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and he spake, 'If such
grace I gain 95
That thou willest I should alight here and awhile at thy side
remain,
If I see that my presence please thee, then sorrow be far
from me,
And joy in its stead dwell with me, no knight e'er might
gladder be!
May I die if the truth I speak not, no woman e'er pleased me
more--'
'It is well, yet methinks I knew that,' then the knight for a
space she saw; 100
And her sweet lips spake thus unto him, 'Now make of thy
praise an end,
For well might it work thee evil, and I care not that foe or
friend,
Whoever he be that cometh, his judgment on me shall speak,
For sure if all lips shall praise me my fame it but waxeth
weak!
If the wise praise me e'en as the foolish, the false as the
pure and true, 105
Then my fame shall be e'en as another's, for the many shall
drown the few.
But my praise do I hold, and but wisdom shall speak that
which she doth know--
Who thou mayst be, Sir Knight, I know not, but 'tis time thou
thy way shouldst go!'
'Yet o'er thee will I speak my verdict, if thou dwellest
anear my heart
Then thy dwelling is not _within_ it, for _without_ shalt
thou have thy part. 110
And say thou my love desirest, how hast thou rewarding won?
From the eyes swiftly shoot the glances, yet a sling, when
the work is done,
Smiteth gentler than looks which linger on that which doth
sorrow wreak,
Thy desire is but empty folly, thou shouldst other service
seek!
If thine hand for love's sake shall battle, if adventure hath
bidden thee 115
By knighthood win love's rewarding, yet thou winnest it not
from _me_.
Nor honour shall be thy portion, but shame shalt thou win
alone--
Now the truth have I spoken unto thee, 'twere best thou
shouldst get thee gone!'
Then he quoth, 'Truth thou speakest, Lady, since mine eyes
thus mine heart have brought
In danger, for _they_ beheld thee, and thy fetters around me
wrought. 120
But now, since I be thy captive, I prithee entreat me well,
Without thine own will hast thou done this, in silence I
owned thy spell:
Thou shalt loose me, or thou shalt bind me, for my will it
shall be as thine,
And gladly all woes I'ld suffer if so I might call thee
mine!'
Then she quoth, 'Yea! so take me with thee, if thou countest
upon thy gain, 125
And the love that shall be thy guerdon, thou shalt mourn it
in shame and pain.
I would know if a man thou shalt be who bravely for me would
fight--
And yet, if thou prize thine honour, thou wilt flee from this
strife, Sir Knight!
And should I yet further rede thee, and thou shouldst to my
word say yea,
Then seek thou elsewhere a lady--For, if thou my love dost
pray, 130
Then joy and fair love's rewarding fall never unto thy share,
But sorrow shall be thy portion if hence I with thee shall
fare!'
Then answered Gawain, 'Without service, who thinketh true
love to win?
An one did so, then here I tell thee, 'twere counted to him
for sin,
For true love ever asketh service, yea after as aye before!' 135
Then she quoth, 'Wilt thou do me service? shame waiteth for
thee in store,
Tho' thy life be a life of conflict--No coward as my knight
I'll own;
See thou yonder path, 'tis no highway, o'er the bridge doth
it wend adown
To the garden, take thou the pathway, for there shalt thou
find my steed--
Many folk shalt thou see and shalt hearken, but take thou of
their words no heed, 140
Nor stay for their dance or singing, for tambour, or harp, or
flute,
But go thou to my horse, and loose it, that I go not with
thee afoot!'
Gawain sprang from off his charger--Yet awhile he bethought
him well
Where his steed might abide his coming: by the waters that
rippling fell
Was no tree unto which to bind it, and he knew not if he this
dame 145
Might pray, would she hold his charger till once more with
her own he came.
Then she quoth, 'I see well what doth vex thee, thine horse
shalt thou leave with me,
I will guard it until thy coming tho' small good shall that
be to thee!'
Then Gawain took his horse's bridle, 'Now hold this for me, I
pray;'
'Now indeed art thou dull and foolish,' spake the lady,
'where _thou_ dost lay 150
Thine hand, thinkest thou _I'll_ hold it? such deed would
beseem me ill!'
Then the love-lorn knight spake gently, for fain would he do
her will,
'Further forward I never hold it!' Then she quoth, '_I_ will
hold it there,
And do thou my bidding swiftly, bring my steed and with thee
I'll fare;'
Then he thought this a joyful hearing, and straightway he
left her side, 155
And over the bridge so narrow to the garden gate he hied;
There saw he many a maiden, and knights so brave and young,
And within that goodly garden so gaily they danced and sung.
And Gawain he was clad so richly, with helmet and harness
fair,
That all must bewail his coming for naught but true folk
dwelt there. 160
They cared for that lovely garden, on the greensward they
stood or lay,
Or sat 'neath the tents whose shadow was cool 'gainst the
sunlight's ray.
Yet they ceased not to bemoan him, and to grieve for his
sorrow sore,
Yea, man alike and maiden, and in this wise their plaint they
bore,
'Alas! that our lady's cunning will to danger this knight
betray! 165
Alas! that he fain will follow, for she rideth an evil way.'
And many stepped fair towards him, and their arms around him
threw,
And bade him a friendly greeting--to an olive tree he drew,
For the steed was fast beneath it, so rich was its gear, I
ween,
That the cost of the goodly trappings full thousand marks had
been. 170
And an old knight he stood beside it, well-trimmed was his
beard and grey,
And upon a staff he leant him, and salt tears he wept alway.
And the tears, they were shed for Gawain, as he to the steed
drew near,
Yet his words of kindly greeting fell soft on the hero's ear.
Then he spake, 'Wilt thou hearken counsel? Lay not on this
steed thine hand, 175
And herein shalt thou show thy wisdom--tho' none here thy
will withstand,
Yet, indeed, it were best to leave it! Accurst be our lady
queen,
For of many a gallant hero, I wot, she the death hath been!'
Yet Gawain he would do her bidding--'Then, alas! for woe
draweth near,'
Spake the knight, and he loosed the halter, ''Twere best not
to linger here, 180
The steed shalt thou take, and shalt leave us, and may He Who
made salt the sea,
In the hour of thy need, and thy peril, thy strength and thy
counsel be:
And see thou that our lady's beauty, it bringeth thee not to
shame,
She is sour in the midst of sweetness, 'mid the sunlight a
shower of rain.'
'God grant it,' then quoth Sir Gawain, and straightway he
took his leave 185
Of the old knight and of his comrades and sorely the folk did
grieve.
And the horse went a narrow pathway, and it passed thro' the
garden gate,
And it crossed o'er the bridge, and he found her who there
did his coming wait,
The queen of his heart, and the ruler was she of that land so
fair,
Yet altho' his heart fled towards her yet grief thro' her
deed it bare. 190
Her hand 'neath her chin soft-rounded had loosened the
wimple's fold,
And flung it aback on her head-gear,--(if a woman ye thus
behold,
Know ye that for strife she longeth and mischief she hath in
mind)--
Would ye know how else she had robed her ye naught in my song
shall find,
For how might I tell her raiment and name ye her robes
aright, 195
When mine eyes, on her fair face gazing, saw naught but her
beauty bright?
As Gawain drew near the lady, she hailed him with scornful
mien,
'Now welcome, thou goose! for of all men most foolish art
thou, I ween,
All too bent shalt thou be on my service, wert thou wise thou
wouldst let it be--'
Then he quoth, 'Yet shalt thou be gracious who now art so
wroth with me, 200
For so harshly thou dost chastise me thou in honour must make
it good,
And my hand shall be fain to serve thee till thou winnest a
milder mood;
Ask thou what of me thou willest--Shall I lift thee upon thy
steed?'
But she quoth, 'I will no such service, for methinks all too
great such meed
For a hand that is yet unproven--Ask thou for a lesser
grace!' 205
On the flowery sward she turned her, and she looked not on
Gawain's face,
But she laid her hand on the bridle, and she light to the
saddle sprung,
And she bade him to ride before her, and she spake with a
mocking tongue,
'Now indeed would it be great pity did I stray from so brave
a knight,
By God's grace will we keep together, so ride thou within my
sight!' 210
Now he who my rede would follow his peace shall he hold
awhile,
Lest he speak but the word of folly, till he know if she
wrought of guile,
For as yet the truth ye know not, nor the thing that was in
her heart.
And were it the time for vengeance, then I too might bear my
part,
And take from this lady payment for the wrong she hath done
Gawain; 215
Nor of that she shall do hereafter shall aught unavenged
remain.
But Orgelusé, that lovely lady, bare herself in no friendly
wise,
For she rode in the track of Gawain, and so wrathful, I ween,
her guise
That were I in the stead of Gawain little comfort my soul
might take
That she from my care would free me, and with fair love
atonement make. 220
Then they rode on an open moorland, and a herb did Sir Gawain
see
Whose root had the power of healing, and down to the ground
sprang he,
And dug up the root, and swiftly he sprang on his steed
again.
And the lady she looked upon him, and she spake in a mocking
vein,
'Now in sooth if this my companion can at one-while be leech
and knight, 225
For starvation he need not fear him if his salve-box he bear
aright!'
Quoth Gawain, ''Neath a mighty linden a wounded knight I saw,
Methinks, if again I find him, this herb shall the poison
draw
From his wounds, and new strength may give him!' She spake,
'Now I well were fain
To look on thy skill, for who knoweth what knowledge I thence
may gain!' 230
Now a squire he rode swift behind them, 'twas the lady's
messenger,
Fain was he to do her bidding--As the horse-hoofs they drew
anear
Gawain would await his coming, and his steed for a space he
held,
Yet he deemed him he saw a monster when first he the squire
beheld,
For Malcréature did they call him, and Kondrie was his sister
fair, 235
And e'en such a face as the sister, I ween, did the brother
bear.
From his mouth, as the tusks of a wild-boar, stood the teeth
out to left and right,
Unlike was his face to a man's face, and fearful in all men's
sight.
And the locks of his hair were shorter than those which from
Kondrie hung
Adown on her mule, stiff as bristles, and sharp, from his
head they sprung. 240
And beside the river Ganges, in the land of Tribalibot,
Dwell such folk, if awhile ye hearken ye shall learn how
befell their lot.
Now Adam, of all men father, from God did he learn such
skill,
All beasts, wild and tame, he knew them, and he namèd them at
his will.
And he knew the stars and their pathway, as they circle the
silent sky, 245
And the power of the seven planets, how they rule men from
heaven high,
And he knew of all roots the virtue, and the ill that was
theirs of yore--
When his children were grown to manhood, and daughters and
sons they bore,
From evil desires he warned them; and his daughters he oft
did rede
Of certain roots to beware them, that wrought ill with the
human seed, 250
And would change their face, and their aspect, and
dishonoured the race should be;
And he spake, 'Then shall we be other than erst God did
fashion me,
And therefore do ye, my children, give heed to the words I
say,
Nor be blind to your bliss, lest _your_ children they wander
too far astray.'
But the women, they did as women, in forbidden ways they
went, 255
And they wrought out the lust and the evil on which their
desire was bent,
And the shape of men was changèd, such rewarding their fault
must win,
And tho' firm stood the will of Adam yet sorely he mourned
their sin--
Now the fair Queen Sekundillé, her body, her crown, and land,
Feirefis had won as his guerdon by the power of his knightly
hand, 260
And there, in her far-off kingdom (no lie is the tale I tell)
Full many of this strange people since the days that are gone
do dwell,
And their faces are ill to look on, and the birth-marks are
strange they bear.
And once of the Grail men told her, and Anfortas' kingdom
fair,
That on earth was naught like to his riches, and a marvel she
thought his land-- 265
(And the waters within her kingdom bare jewels instead of
sand,
And many a golden mountain shall rear its crest on high.)
And the queen she thought, 'How may I win speech of his
majesty,
Who ruleth the Grail?' she bethought her, and rich presents
she sent the king,
Of jewels fair, and beside them, they should to his kingdom
bring 270
Of this folk, so strange to look on, the twain of whom now I
tell,
Kondrie and the squire, her brother--and in this wise the
chance befell
(Much treasure beside she sent him whose cost might of none
be told,)
That Anfortas, the gentle monarch, who was courteous as he
was bold,
For the love he bare Orgelusé sent this squire unto her
grace, 275
By the sin and the lust of women set apart from the human
race!
Now this son of the herbs and the planets loud mocked at the
gallant knight,
Who, courteous, would wait his coming; no charger he rode of
might,
But a mare so feint and feeble and halting in every limb,
And oft to the ground it stumbled 'neath its rider so harsh
and grim. 280
I wot well e'en Dame Jeschuté rode a better steed that day
When Parzival's hand avenged her, and her shaming was put
away!
The squire he looked well upon Gawain, and thus in his wrath
he spake,
'If thou be a _knight_, I think me, and my lady with thee
wilt take
Thou shalt sorely repent the journey--A fool thou in truth
must be, 285
And such peril shall be thy guerdon as winneth great praise
to thee,
If so be that thou canst withstand it--Yet, if but a
_servant_ thou,
Of buffets and blows, I think me, full soon wilt thou have
enow!'
Then out quoth Gawain, 'My knighthood such chastisement ne'er
might feel,
'Tis good but for worthless youngsters who shrink from the
touch of steel; 290
But _I_ hold me free of such insults, and e'en if it so shall
be
That thou and this lovely lady your mock'ry shall pour on me,
Then _one_ sure shall taste my vengeance, nor think thou that
I wax wroth
For ill tho' thou be to look on I hold thee but light in
troth!'
With that by the hair he gripped him, and he swung him from
off his horse, 295
The squire glared wrathful on him, and his bristles, so sharp
and coarse,
Took vengeance sore on Gawain, his hand did they cut and tear
Till the blood dripped crimson from it--then loud laughed the
lady fair,
'Now in sooth this is good to look on, to see ye twain in
wrath!'
So rode the twain, the squire's horse came halting upon their
path. 300
So came they unto the linden where the wounded knight they
found,
On his side the herb of healing the hand of Gawain bound;
Quoth the knight, 'Now, how went it with thee since first
thou didst find me here?
Thou leadest with thee a lady who plotteth thine ill, I fear!
'Tis thro' her I so sore am wounded; at the Perilous Ford, I
ween, 305
Did she force such a joust upon me as well-nigh my death had
been!
So, if thou thy life now lovest, I warn thee to let her be,
And turn thee aside, nor ride with her, but warning to take
by me--
And yet may my wounds be healèd, if rest for awhile I gain,
And, Sir Knight, thereto canst thou help me!' 'That will I,'
quoth knight Gawain. 310
Then the wounded knight spake further, 'A spital shall stand
near by,
And if I but now might reach it for awhile I in peace might
lie,
Thou seest my lady's palfrey, it can carry, methinks, the
twain
If she rideth afore, I behind her, so help me its back to
gain.'
From the bough of the mighty linden Sir Gawain he loosed the
steed, 315
And the bridle he took that the palfrey he might to the lady
lead--
'Away from me!' cried the sick man, 'thou treadest on me I
trow!'
Then he led it apart, and the lady she followed so soft and
slow,
For she knew what her lord did purpose; as the maid to her
horse he swung,
Up started the knight, and swiftly on the charger of Gawain
sprung! 320
And, methinks, an ill deed he did there--With his lady he
rode away,
And I ween that with sin was tainted the prize that he won
that day!
Then sore did Gawain bemoan him, but the lady laughed loud
and clear;
(And, were it a jest, he thought him such mirth were
unfitting here,)
As his charger was taken from him her sweet lips in this wise
spake, 325
'First wert thou a _knight_, then, in short space, I thee for
a _leech_ must take,
Now art thou become my _footman_! yet thou shouldst in no
wise despair,
Such skill sure should bring thee comfort! Wouldst thou
_still_ in my favours share?'
'Yea, Lady,' then quoth Sir Gawain, 'an I might thy favor
hold,
The whole earth hath nothing fairer were the tale of its
riches told; 330
And of crownèd heads, and uncrownèd, of all who may joyful
win
The highest meed of glory, did they bid me to share therein,
Yet still my heart would rede me to count all such gain as
naught
If thy love were but weighed against it, such bliss had thy
favour brought!
If thy love may not be my guerdon then a swift sad death I'll
die, 335
'Tis thine own this thing that thou scornest when thou
dealest thus mockingly.
Tho' a free man born thou shalt hold me thy vassal, if such
thy will,
Call me knight, or slave, or servant, the _name_ it shall
please me still!
Yet, I think me, thou doest not rightly--When my service thou
thus wilt shame
Thou drawest down sin upon thee, and thou shamest thine own
fair fame. 340
If my service doth bring me honour thou hast naught withal to
scorn,
And such words shall but ill beseem thee tho' they lightly by
me be borne!'
Then back rode the knight, sore wounded, and he quoth, 'Is it
thou, Gawain?
For that which erewhile I owed thee here dost thou full
payment gain,
Since thine hand in bitter conflict, me, thy foeman, did
prisoner make 345
And unto thine uncle Arthur thou didst me thy captive take,
And four weeks long must I dwell there, and four weeks long I
fed
With the dogs--I shall ne'er forget it till the days of my
life be sped!'
Then he quoth, 'Is it thou, O Urian? If now thou art wroth
with me,
Yet guiltless am I, the king's favour at that time I won for
thee, 350
For thy folly so far betrayed thee that men spake thee an
outcast knight,
And thy shield it was taken from thee, and forfeit thy name
and right;
Since thou ill didst entreat a maiden, and the peace of the
land didst break,
With a rope had the king repaid thee, but to him for thy life
I spake!'
'Howe'er that might be, here thou standest, and the proverb
thou well mayst know, 355
"Who saveth the life of another, that other shall have for
foe."
And I do as a wise man doeth--'Tis better a child should weep
Than a full-grown man, and bearded,--this charger mine hand
shall keep!'
Then he spurred him amain, and he rode thence, as fast as his
steed might fly,
And wroth was Gawain at his dealing, and he spake out right
angrily; 360
'Now it fell out in this wise, Lady, King Arthur his court
did hold
At Dianasdron, and with him rode many a Breton bold.
Then as messenger to his kingdom a maiden must take her way,
And this fool, for venture seeking, he crossed her path that
day,
And both to the land were strangers--He burnt with unholy
fire, 365
And fierce with the maid he wrestled till he bent her to his
desire.
As she cried for help we heard her--then the king "To arms"
did call,
In a wood the thing had chanced thus, thither rode we one and
all,
And I rode of all the foremost, and I saw the sinner's track,
And I made him perforce my captive, and to Arthur I brought
him back.' 370
'And the maiden she rode beside us, and sorely did she bemoan
That to _force_ she must yield the guerdon that to _service_
was due alone.
Of her maidenhood had he robbed her--Yet but lowly his fame
shall stand
Who vaunteth himself the victor o'er a woman's unarmèd hand--
And wrathful, I ween, was King Arthur, and he spake, 'Ye my
servants true, 375
Ye shall hold this deed for accursèd, and the day of its
doing rue.
Alas! for the woful dawning and the light that this thing
hath seen,
Alas! that I here am ruler, for the judgment is mine, I
ween!'
And he spake to the weeping maiden, 'Hast thou wisdom, thy
cause then plead.'
She spake fearless, e'en as he bade her, and the knights they
must list her rede. 380
'Then Prince Urian of Punturtois stood before the Breton
king,
And against his life and his honour, her plaint did the
maiden bring,
And she spake so that all might hear her, and with weeping
words did pray
The king, for the sake of women, her shaming to put away.
And she prayed by the honour of women, and by the Round
Table's fame, 385
And the right which as message-bearer she thought of all men
to claim,
If he sat there that day for judgment he should judge her
with judgment true,
And avenge her of this dishonour which her soul must for ever
rue.
And she prayed they would do her justice, those knights of
the Table Round,
Since in sooth she had lost a treasure which might never
again be found, 390
Her maidenhood fair and unstainèd! Then all men, with one
accord,
Spake him guilty, and for his judgment called loudly upon
their lord!'
'Then an advocate spake for the captive, (Small honour was
his I trow.)
And he spake as he might in his favour, yet it went with him
ill enow,
For of life and of honour forfeit did they judge him, the
headsman's sword 395
Should ne'er be his death, but a halter should they twine him
of hempen cord.
Then loud in his woe he prayed me, since he yielded him to
mine hand,
For mine honour should sure be stainèd if wrought were the
king's command.
Then I prayed of the weeping maiden, since she saw how that I
in fight
Had avenged upon him her shaming, to pardon the traitor
knight. 400
For sure 'twas the spell of her beauty that had wrought upon
him for sin,
And the love of her form so shapely--"For aye if a knight
doth win
Sore peril for love of a woman, she should aid him, and hear
his prayer,
So I prithee to cease thine anger, and have pity on his
despair."'
'Then the king and his men I prayed them, by what service I
e'er had done, 405
They should loose me from stain of dishonour which I by his
death had won,
And the knight should live, as I sware him.--Then the lady,
his gracious queen,
I prayed by the bond of kinship, since my friend she hath
ever been,
(From my childhood, King Arthur reared me and my love doth
toward them flow,)
That she of her kindness help me--as I asked, it was even so, 410
For she drew on one side the maiden, and she spake to her
soft and kind,
And it was thro' the queen, I wot me, that the knight did his
pardon find.
Thus free from his guilt they spake him, yet his sin must he
sorely rue,
For the life that was granted to him stern penance he needs
must do.
With the hounds of the chase and the house-dogs from one
trough he needs must eat 415
For the space of four weeks, thus the maiden found avenging
as it was meet!'
'For this cause is he wroth with me, Lady'--'Yet his judgment
it went astray,
If my love ne'er shall be thy guerdon, in such wise I'll his
deed repay
That ere he shall leave my kingdom he shall count it to him
for shame!
Since King Arthur avenged not the evil that was wrought on
that maid's fair fame 420
It falleth unto mine office, and judge am I o'er ye twain,
Tho' who ye may be I know not, yet I to this task am fain!
And well shall he be chastisèd for the wrong that he did the
maid,
Not for _thine_, for I ween such evil is better by blows
repaid.'
To the mare now Sir Gawain turned him, and lightly he caught
the rein, 425
And the squire he followed after, and the lady she spake
again,
And in Arabic spake she to him, and she gave him to know her
will--
Now hearken unto my story, how Sir Gawain he fared but ill:
Then Malcréature, he left them--and Gawain his horse beheld,
Too feeble it was for battle, the squire, as his way he held 430
Down the hill, from the peasant-owner had taken the sorry
steed,
And Gawain for his charger must have it, tho' but ill it
might serve his need.
In mocking and hatred spake she, 'Wilt still ride upon thy
way?'
Quoth Gawain, 'I will take my journey e'en in such wise as
thou shalt say.'
She quoth, 'Wilt abide my counsel? It shall reach thee I ween
too late!' 435
Quoth he, 'Yet for that will I serve thee, tho' o'er-long I
thy rede shall wait!'
Quoth she, 'Then a fool I think thee, for unless thou shalt
leave this mind,
Then sorrow instead of gladness and repentance for joy
thou'lt find!'
Then he quoth, of her love desirous, 'Yet thy servant I still
abide,
If joy be my lot or sorrow, be thy love and thy will my
guide. 440
Since thy love laid its spell upon me in thy bidding my law I
see,
And ahorse or afoot I'll follow, I care not where'er it be!'
So stood he beside the lady, and awhile he beheld the mare,
Who to joust with such steed had ridden his gold were
o'er-keen to spare!
For the stirrups of hemp were twisted, and ne'er had this
gallant knight 445
Such saddle, I ween, bestridden, it would serve him but ill
for fight.
For e'en as he looked upon it, he thought, 'If on _that_ I
ride,
The girths sure will break asunder, nor the saddle my weight
abide!'
And so weak was the steed and ill-shapen, had one dared on
its back to leap
Of a sooth would the back have broken--On foot he the road
must keep! 450
And in this guise he took his journey: the horse by the rein
he held,
And his spear and his shield he carried; and the lady his
grief beheld,
And she mocked him with ringing laughter, fain was she to
work him woe--
Then his shield on the mare he fastened, and she spake, 'In
such guise wouldst go,
And carry thy wares thro' my kingdom? A strange lot is mine,
I ween, 455
Since _footman_, and _leech_, and _merchant_ in turn hath my
comrade been!
Of the toll hadst thou best beware thee, or else, as thou
goest thy way,
It may chance they who take the toll here on thy merchandise
hands may lay!
And tho' sharp, I ween, was her mocking yet her words was he
fain to hear,
Nor rued he the bitter speeches that rang sweet to his
longing ear. 460
And as ever his eyes beheld her his sorrow it fled away,
For fair was she to his thinking as blossoms in month of May!
A delight of the eyes, and heart-sorrow, his gain and his
loss was she,
And languishing joy did she quicken--Her freeman and captive
he!
This hath many a master taught me, that Amor, and Cupid too, 465
And Venus, of both the mother, make all men their deeds to
rue;
For with darts and with fire they kindle desire in the
longing heart,
But such love seemeth me but evil that is lighted by torch or
dart.
And the true heart it loveth ever, be its guerdon or joy or
woe,
And in honour the love is rooted which alone shall abiding
know! 470
'Gainst me have thy darts, O Cupid! I ween ever missed their
mark,
Nor Amor with spear hath smote me, nor fell on my heart a
spark
From the torch of thy mother Venus--Tho' love 'neath your
rule shall be,
If love be my lot, not from _passion_ but from _faith_ shall
it bloom for me!
And if I with wit and wisdom 'gainst love's spells might a
hero aid, 475
Gawain had I gladly aided, nor asked that I be repaid.
And yet no shame need he think it if love's fetters him
captive hold,
And if he of love be vanquished, for her captives are aye the
bold.
And yet so strong was he ever, and so knightly, to face the
foe,
That 'tis pity so brave a hero by a _woman_ should be laid
low! 480
Now well let us gaze upon thee, thou power which true love
doth wield,
Such joy hast thou taken from us that barren and reft the
field,
And thou makest a road of sorrow across it, both long and
wide,
And if thy goal had been other than the high heart I would
not chide.
For folly methinks and lightness love all too old shall be, 485
Or shall we to childhood reckon the evil love worketh free?
For better are ways unseemly in youth, than if age forget
Its wisdom--much ill love worketh, unto which shall the blame
be set?
For the mind of youth ever wavers, and changeth as changing
winds,
And if love shall be thus unsteadfast, little praise may she
hope to find. 490
Nay, better shall be my counsel, for the _wise_ praise true
love alone;
Yea, and maiden and man shall join me, and all who love's
power have known.
When true love unto true love answereth, undarkened by
thought of guile,
And it vexeth them not that love turneth the key on their
heart awhile,
For they fear not nor think of wavering, then high as the
heaven above 495
O'er the earth, o'er the love that changeth, is such true and
steadfast love.
Yet, gladly as I would free him, to Frau Minne Gawain must
bow,
And his joy shall awhile be darkened--Small profit my words,
I trow,
And the wisdom I fain had taught him, for no man may love
withstand,
And love alone giveth wisdom, and nerveth with strength the
hand! 500
And to Gawain she gave this penance, afoot must he wend his
way
While his lady she rode beside him--To a woodland they came
alway,
And he led the steed to a tree-trunk, and the shield that
awhile it bare
He hung round his neck as befitting, and lightly bestrode the
mare,
And scarcely the steed might bear him--Then they came to a
builded land, 505
And a castle so fair and stately he saw there before him
stand,
And his heart and his eyes bare witness no fortress was like
this hall,
So knightly and fair the palace, and so countless its turrets
tall.
And many a maiden looked forth from its casements, he thought
to see
Four hundred and more, o'er all others, I ween, _four_ might
fairest be. 510
Then the lady and her companion they rode a well-trodden road
To a water whose waves ran swiftly, and ships sailed the
flood so broad.
By the landing there lay a meadow, where men jousts were wont
to ride,
And the towers of that stately castle rose fair on the
further side.
Then Gawain, that gallant hero, saw a knight who rode swift
and near, 515
As one who for combat lusted, and he spared not or shield or
spear.
Quoth the lady, fair Orgelusé, and haughty her tone and
proud,
'In what else thou mayst gainsay me in this be my truth
allowed,
For other I ne'er have told thee save that shame shall thy
portion be,
Now here, if thou canst, defend thee, since no better is left
to thee. 520
Methinks he who cometh hither shall fell thee beneath his
thrust--
If thy garments perchance be riven, and thou bitest, ashamed,
the dust,
Then those women above shall mourn thee, who look for some
deed of fame,
Seest thou how they gaze from the lattice? How, then, if they
see thy shame?'
Then the boatman across the water he came at the lady's will, 525
From the shore to the boat she stepped there, and Gawain it
but pleased him ill;
For, mocking, fair Orgelusé spake thus to the gallant knight,
'Thou com'st not with me, I leave thee on this shore as a
pledge for fight!'
Then sadly his voice rang after, 'Say, Lady, wilt leave me
so?
Shall I never again behold thee?' Then she spake, 'I would
have thee know 530
If victory be thy portion thou shalt look on my face again,
Yet but small is the chance I think me.' So sailed she from
knight Gawain.
Then up rode Lischois Giwellius, 'twere a lie if I said he
_flew_,
And yet little other did he for the earth scarce his
footprints knew.
And for this must I praise the charger, who the greensward
with such swift feet 535
Had trodden--Gawain bethought him how he best might his
foeman meet;
He thought, 'Should I here await him afoot, or this steed
bestride?
If his horse's speed he check not he surely o'er me will
ride,
And this fate must o'ertake his charger, to fall o'er my
fallen steed;
But, if he for combat lusteth, afoot on this flowery mead 540
Will I face him and give him battle, since battle he doth
desire,
Tho' never I win her favour who hath brought on me need so
dire.'
Fight they must, and they fought as heroes, he who came and
he who did wait,
For jousting he made him ready, and the lance-point Gawain
held straight,
And he rested it on the saddle, (for thus did he counsel
take,) 545
Then e'en as the joust was ridden the spears did in splinters
break,
And the knights, the one as the other, they fell in that
goodly fray,
For the better charger stumbled and by Gawain its rider lay.
Then the twain to their feet upspringing their swords from
the scabbard drew,
Since alike they were keen for combat, and their shields in
pieces flew, 550
For each hewed at the shield of the other till a hand's
breadth alone, I ween,
They held, for the pledge of conflict the shield it hath ever
been.
Flashed the sword-blades, fire sprang from the helmets, a
venture brave I trow
Was his who should here be victor, tho' stern conflict he
first must know.
Long space did they fight, those heroes, on the flowery
meadow wide, 555
And as smiths, who all day have laboured, as it weareth to
eventide
Grow faint with their toil and weary with the mighty blows
they smite,
So weary and faint were those heroes who here did for honour
fight.
But for this none methinks shall praise them, unwise do I
hold the twain,
No cause had they here for battle, 'twas fame that they
thought to gain; 560
And strangers unto each other, each other's life they sought,
And yet, had they made confession, each owed to the other
naught!
Now Gawain was a gallant wrestler, and his foe to the ground
would bring
If in spite of the sword he might grip him, and let but the
mighty ring
Of his arms his foeman circle, he forced him where'er he
would. 565
Now must he with force defend him, and he fought as a hero
good,
And his courage waxed ever higher, and the youth in his arms
he caught,
And he bare him to earth beneath him tho' e'en as a man he
fought.
And he quoth, 'Wilt thou live, thou hero, thou must yield
thee unto mine hand!'
Yet Lischois, he was all unready to follow so stern command; 570
For never his pledge had he given, and he deemed it a
wondrous thing
That the hand of a knight should o'erthrow him, and him in
such peril bring
That against his will he must yield him, who had ever the
victor been,
For in sooth full many a combat his foeman o'erthrown had
seen.
Full oft he from them had taken what he cared not to give
again, 575
Nay, rather his life would he forfeit; and he spake unto
knight Gawain,
And he said, 'Let what would befall him, his pledge to no man
he'd give;'
Nay, death would he rather suffer, since no longer he cared
to live!
Then sadly, he spake, the vanquished, 'Thou hero, is victory
thine?
So long as God bare me favour such honour was ever mine; 580
But now hath my fame an ending, and thy right hand hath laid
me low,
And if maiden and man must hearken to the tale of my
overthrow
Whose glory once rose to the heaven, then death shall my
portion be
Ere my kinsmen shall hear the story, and shall sorrow and
mourn for me!
Yet Gawain still prayed him yield him, but his will and his
mind were so 585
That he prayed God would rather take him, or slay him by this
his foe.
Thought Gawain, 'I am loth to kill him, if he swear but to do
my will
Unharmed he may go'--yet the young knight withheld him his
promise still.
Then, ere he his hand had given, the hero he bade him rise,
On the flowery mead they sat them: then Gawain he bethought
him wise, 590
(For his sorry steed it vexed him) the horse of his
vanquished foe
With spur and with rein would he test there, if 'twere good
for his need or no.
('Twas armed as beseemed a warhorse, and the covering was
fair to see,
Of velvet and silk was it fashioned, what trapping might
better be?)
Since the venture such prize had brought him, who should
hinder him in his need 595
If for his own use he took it? so he vaulted upon the steed:
And he joyed in the free, swift movement, and he cried, 'Now,
how shall this be?
Of a sooth it is thou, Gringuljet, that false Urian stole
from me.
_He_ knoweth best how he took it, and shameful I count his
deed.
Now, who thus for battle armed thee, since thou art of a
truth my steed? 600
Sure 'tis God who hath sent thee to me, and this fair gift
shall end my woe.'
Then he sprang to the ground, and he sought him the token he
well might know,
On its shoulder the Grail-Dove branded--In a joust did
Lähelein slay
Its rider, the knight of Prienlaskors, and the charger he
bare away.
Then Orilus was its master, and he gave it to knight Gawain 605
On Plimizöl's shore--greatly joyed he when the charger he won
again.
Blithe was he, and high of courage, who awhile was sad and
sore,
Yet love unto ruth constrained him, and the service so true
he bore
To the lady who yet would shame him, and his thoughts ever
toward her flew.
Then up sprang proud Lischois lightly, and his good sword he
gripped anew, 610
For it lay where Gawain had cast it when he wrested it from
his hand:
And the ladies look down on the heroes, as for combat once
more they stand.
The shields were so hacked and riven that the knights they
must cast them by,
And, shieldless, to strife betake them, and they bare them
right gallantly.
And a crowd of fair maidens o'er them from the palace window
saw 615
The strife that below was foughten: and fierce anger awoke
once more,
For too nobly born I wot me was each man that he might brook
That his fame should be lightly yielded, and maids on his
shaming look.
And helmet and sword were smitten, for shields 'gainst cold
death were they,
He who saw the heroes strive there had mourned for their toil
that day. 620
Lischois Giwellius bare him, that fair youth, as knight so
brave,
True courage, and deeds undaunted, the counsel his high heart
gave.
And many a swift blow dealt he, as quick on Gawain he sprung,
And lightly avoided from him, and his blade round his head he
swung.
But Gawain stood firm and undaunted, and he thought him,
'Now, let me hold 625
Thee once in mine arms, I'll repay thee thy dealings, thou
hero bold!'
And fiery sparks might ye look on, and the flash of the
glittering blade
Well wielded by hand of hero--Nor one in his station stayed,
For they pressed each one on the other, backward, forward, to
either side,
Yet this conflict so fierce, I wot me, did ne'er of revenge
betide, 630
And no hatred they bare to each other--Then the arms of
Gawain at last
He clasped round his gallant foeman, and the knight to the
ground he cast.
And I think, an I friendship sware here, I would shrink from
such fond embrace,
E'en tho' brotherhood it were sealing--Nor with ye would such
clasp find grace!
Then Gawain he bade him yield him, yet Lischois, who against
his will 635
Had striven when first he felled him, was all unready still.
And he quoth, 'Wherefore thus delay thee, 'tis needless, take
thou my life,
For better to die than to yield me--Since I wot well that in
this strife
The fame that was mine aforetime hath vanished beneath thy
blow,
Of God must I be accursèd, since my glory such goal doth
know! 640
For the love of fair Orgelusé have I served her with knightly
hand,
And many a knight have I felled here, for none might my arm
withstand.
Now shalt thou be heir to my glory, for it falleth to thee of
right
If thou, who my fame hath ended, here endeth my life, Sir
Knight.'
But King Lot's son he thought in this wise, 'To this deed
have I little mind, 645
My name, it shall gain small honour if this man here his
death shall find,
If for no sin of his I slay him, who is true and valiant
knight--
'Twas _her_ love that spurred him 'gainst me, for whose
favour I too would fight;
'Tis her beauty that doth constrain me, 'tis she that doth
work me woe,
Then why not, for the sake of my lady, show mercy to this my
foe? 650
If perchance for mine own I win her, if mine own such bliss
may be,
Then _he_ cannot take her from me since stronger am I than
he!
And if o'er our strife she watcheth, then she must of a
surety own
That I, who for love would serve her, true service and good
have shown!'
Then out spake the gallant Gawain, 'I were loth thy life to
take, 655
But hence will I let thee, scatheless, for fair Orgelusé's
sake!'
Weary were they, small wonder, then the fallen knight arose,
And down on the grassy meadow apart sat those gallant foes.
Then the master boatman stepped forth from the water unto the
land,
And a grey and yearling falcon he carried upon his hand. 660
This right was his o'er the meadow, who jousted upon the
plain,
The charger of him who was vanquished he did as his tribute
gain.
From his hand, who was there the victor, should he take, as a
gift, the steed,
And bowing, thank him fairly, nor stint of his praise the
meed.
And such payment he oft had taken on the flowery meadow
green, 665
Nor otherwise had his living; save at whiles, when such
chance had been,
That a bird in his falcon's clutches had fluttered in grief
and pain.
Nor plough drave he thro' those furrows, for enough did he
deem his gain.
And son of a folk so knightly was he born to a knight's
estate,
And courteous, I ween, his bearing who there on Gawain did
wait. 670
So came he unto the hero, and with courteous word and fair
He prayed of his hand the tribute, and the steed that should
be his share.
Quoth Gawain, the gallant hero, 'No merchant methinks I be
To pay here or toll or tribute, from such tax do I hold me
free!'
Then he spake out, the master boatman, 'Sir Knight, since
full many a maid 675
Hath seen thee stand here the victor, by _thee_ be my tribute
paid.
My right o'er the plain must thou own here, in knightly joust
thine hand
Hath won for mine own this charger; nor thy fame shall the
lower stand,
For he, whom thine hand o'erthrew here, the world with his
praises rung,
And with truth, unto this day's dawning, have men of his
glory sung; 680
But now he of God is stricken, and his joy hath an ending
found,
But _thou_, in his stead, I think me, with honour and fame
art crowned!'
Quoth Gawain, 'He first o'erthrew me, and I but that deed
repaid.
If tribute for joust be due here, by _him_ be that tribute
paid!
Look well on this mare, he won it, thou canst take it if such
thy will. 685
The charger that standeth by me, as mine own will I claim it
still--
Tho' never a steed be thy portion, on _that_ steed I hence
will go,
Thou speakest of _right_, wouldst thou take it, then first I
would have thee know
(Yea, thou thyself wilt own it) 'tis unfitting I take my way
Afoot, and right sore 'twould grieve me if that charger were
thine alway! 690
For to-day in the early morning it was _mine_ without doubt
or fear,
And childish thou art if thou thinkest thus lightly to win it
here!
'Twas Duke Orilus, the Burgundian, who gave me the steed of
old,
Which Urian stole this morning, and the tale thou for truth
shalt hold.
And the foal of a mule shalt thou win thee ere thy prize be
this steed of mine-- 695
Yet a fair gift in sooth will I give thee, for the _steed_
shall the _knight_ be thine,
Thou accountest him honour-worthy--if he say thee or yea or
nay,
And if well or ill it doth please him I abide by my word
alway!'
Then joyful I ween was the boatman, and with smiling lips he
spake,
'Now methinks that a gift so costly it hath ne'er been my lot
to take, 700
And I deem myself all unworthy--Yet, Sir Knight, be he mine
indeed,
Then the guerdon is more than I asked for and o'er my deserts
my meed.
For his praises they rang so clearly that five hundred steeds
all told,
Swift-footed and strong for battle, too low for his price
I'ld hold!
If a rich man thou thus wilt make me, then this thing shalt
thou do for me, 705
To my boat shalt thou captive bring him, that I hold him as
pledge from thee.'
King Lot's son he spake in answer, 'Yea this will I do, and
more,
To thy boat first, and then from out it will I lead him
within thy door,
And there will I yield him captive'--'And there will I
welcome thee!'
Spake the boatman, and low he bowed him, and thanks spake he
fair and free. 710
And he quoth, 'Dear my lord and master, if it please thee to
be my guest,
And abide in my house till the morning, then softly I'll bid
thee rest.
Nor won boatman e'er higher honour, and blest be the eventide
That seeth a knight so gallant 'neath the shade of my
roof-tree bide.'
Then out quoth Gawain, 'That will I, for in truth I had
prayed this grace, 715
For weary am I with battle, and fain would I rest a space.
She who to this sorrow led me, her sweetness she maketh sour,
And heart's joy shall be dear to purchase, and sorrow doth
crown each hour,
And the guerdon for this her service unlike to herself shall
be--
Alas! I had found a treasure, yet but loss hath it brought to
me! 720
And one breast thro' that loss now sinketh that awhile
swelled so proud and high,
When joy was from God my portion, for a heart did beneath it
lie.
Now I think me that heart hath vanished, and where shall I
comfort seek?
Shall I helpless abide that Frau Minne her wrath upon me
shall wreak?
Yea, had she the heart of a woman she would give me my joy
again 725
Who maketh her sweetness bitter, and turneth my bliss to
pain!'
Then the boatman he heard how he wrestled with sorrow, by
love constrained,
And he quoth, 'So is here the custom, in the forest as on the
plain,
As far as Klingsor ruleth, be he coward or valiant knight,
"Sad to day, to-morrow joyful," So it goeth for peace or
fight. 730
Perchance the truth thou knowst not? This land is a
wonder-land,
And ever by day and by night-time if good luck shall not aid
thine hand
Little good may thy manhood do thee! See thou how the sun
sinks low,
I think me, Sir Knight, it were better that we should to my
vessel go!'
Then Lischois he was led by Gawain, and never a word he
spake, 735
And the boatman he followed after and the steed by its rein
did take.
So sailed they across the water, and they came to the further
coast,
And the boatman he prayed Sir Gawain, 'Be thou in mine house
the host.'
And so rich was the house and stately, that scarce in King
Arthur's land,
E'en in Nantes that noble city, did a fairer dwelling stand. 740
And he led Lischois thro' the doorway, and he gave him unto
the care
Of the host and his folk--Then the boatman spake thus to his
daughter fair,
'Fair times and a goodly lodging be the lot of this noble
knight
Who standeth here, go thou with him, for I deem me it shall
be right,
And tend him as best shall seem thee, nor stint thou in aught
thy care, 745
For great good hath he brought unto us, and 'tis meet he thy
grace should share!'
To his son's care he gave the charger---Then the maiden her
sire's behest
Fulfilled as right well became her, for she led the noble
guest
To a chamber fair, where the flooring was hid 'neath a carpet
green
Of rushes and fresh-plucked blossoms, as the way of the land
had been. 750
There the gentle maid unarmed him--quoth Gawain, 'God show
grace to thee,
For had not thy sire thus bade thee too great were thy care
for me!'
And she quoth, 'For my father's bidding I do not this deed,
Sir Knight,
But rather that this my service may find favour before thy
sight.'
Then a squire, the host's son, must bear there soft cushions,
a goodly store, 755
And along the wall he laid them, and over against the door.
And a carpet he spread before them that Gawain he might seat
him there;
And as one who knew well his office a cushion so rich he
bare,
With a covering of crimson sendal, that down on the couch he
laid;
And a seat like unto the other for the host he beside it
made. 760
Came another squire and he carried fresh linen the board to
spread,
(For thus gave the host commandment,) and he bare with the
linen bread.
And the hostess she followed after, and she looked well upon
Gawain,
And she gave him a heartfelt greeting, and she spake, 'Now
such grace we gain
From thine hand we are rich henceforward as we never have
been before, 765
Sir Knight, sure our good luck waketh since such fortune it
hither bore!'
Then when they had brought him water, and the host sat beside
his guest,
With courteous mien Sir Gawain this prayer to his host
addrest,
'Now I pray let this maid eat with me,' 'Sir Knight, ne'er
was she allowed
To sit with knights, or eat with them, lest she wax of their
grace too proud. 770
And yet so much do we owe thee, loth were I to say thee nay.
So, daughter, sit thou beside him, and as he shall speak
obey!'
Then she blushed for shame all rosy, yet she did as her
father bade,
And down on the couch by Gawain sat Bené the gracious maid.
(And two stalwart sons had the boatman beside that maiden
sweet) 775
Three game-birds, I ween, that even were slain by the falcon
fleet,
And all three did they bear unto Gawain, and a broth with
herbs beside,
And the maiden she courteous served him as she sat by the
hero's side;
For she carved for him dainty morsels, and laid them on bread
so white
With her slender hands, and gently she spake to the stranger
knight, 780
'Wilt thou send a bird to my mother? for else hath she none,
I ween.'
Then gladly he told the maiden his will e'en as hers had been
In this thing as in all other--to the hostess the bird they
bare,
And they honoured the hand of the hero, nor the boatman his
thanks would spare.
Purslain and lettuce brought they, in vinegar steeped, I ween 785
Had he sought here his strength to nourish little good might
such food have been;
And if one should o'er-long feed on it then the colour it
waxeth pale,
Such pallor as truth betrayeth, if the mouth to its speaking
fail.
And if with false red it be hidden, it fadeth, and bringeth
shame,
But she who is true and steadfast she winneth the higher
fame. 790
If one by goodwill were nourished, then Gawain, he right well
had fed,
To her child naught the mother grudgeth, and as free gave the
host his bread.
Then they bare away the tables, and the hostess she bade him
rest,
And bedding I ween in plenty they brought for the gallant
guest.
And one was of down, and the covering above it of velvet
green, 795
Yet the velvet was none of the richest tho' fair had its
fashion been.
And a cushion must serve for cover, beneath it should Gawain
lie;
Nor the silk had with gold been purchased, 'twas won in far
Araby.
Of silk, too, the cunning stitching, and the linen was fair,
and white
As snow that they laid above it, and a pillow they brought
the knight. 800
And a cloak of her own she lent him, for wrapping, that
maiden fair,
'Twas new, and of ermine fashioned, and such as a prince
might wear.
Then leave the host courteous prayed him ere he laid himself
down to sleep,
And men say that alone with Sir Gawain the maiden her watch
did keep,
And I think if he more had prayed her she never had said him
Nay-- 805
Then he slept, for he well might slumber, God keep him till
dawn of day!
BOOK XI
ARNIVE
ARGUMENT
Book XI. tells how Gawain would brave the venture of the Château
Marveil, and how the boatman and his daughter strove to withhold
him.
How Gawain came to the Castle, and of the Lit Merveil and its
perils.
How Gawain slew the lion, and ended the enchantments of the
castle, and
how he was healed of his wounds by the Queen Arnivé.
BOOK XI
ARNIVE
Weary he closed his eyelids, and he slept in a slumber deep
Till the light of the early morning must waken him from his
sleep.
And many a window saw he within that chamber wall,
And clear glass was before each window--Thro' a doorway the
light did fall,
'Twas open, without was an orchard, thither gat him the
gallant knight 5
For the air, and the song-birds' music, and to see what might
meet his sight
And but little space had he sat there, when the castle he saw
again
As at eventide he saw it when he fought on the grassy plain.
And he saw from the hall of the palace full many a maiden
gaze,
And many were fair to look on; and he thought, with a great
amaze, 10
That a wondrous watch they must keep there, since they
wearied not thro' the night,
And little might they have slumbered, for as yet scarce had
dawned the light.
Then he thought, 'For the sake of these ladies will I lay me
to sleep once more.'
Then again to his couch he gat him, and for covering he drew
him o'er
The mantle the maid had lent him--Did no man his slumber
break? 15
Nay, sorely the host had vexed him, if one should his guest
awake.
Then of true heart bethought the maiden, who soft by her
mother lay,
And she roused her from out her slumber, and she took to the
guest her way,
And again he slept so sweetly--Then she thought her, that
gentle maid,
That fain would she do him service, and she sat her beside
his bed, 20
Fair was she, and sweet to look on, and but seldom at
eventide,
Or in hour of the early dawning, such venture has sought my
side!
Short space ere Gawain awakened and beheld how she watched
him there,
And he looked and he laughed upon her, 'God reward thee, thou
maiden fair,
That thou breakest for me thy slumber, on thyself dost thou
vengeance take, 25
Since nor service nor joust so knightly have I ridden for thy
sweet sake!'
And she answered, that gracious maiden, 'On thy service no
claim have I,
But look thou with favour on me, and thy will do I willingly,
And all who are with my father, yea, mother alike and child,
Do hail thee their lord and master, for love of thy dealings
mild!' 30
Then he quoth, 'Is it long since thou camest? Had I of thy
coming known
Fain would I have asked a question, perchance thou the truth
hadst shown:
Yestreen and again this morning fair ladies have looked on me
From a mighty tower, of thy goodness now tell me who may they
be?'
But the maiden she shrunk in terror, and she cried, 'Ask me
not, Sir Knight, 35
Since ne'er may I give an answer--I prithee to hear aright,
If I knew, yet I might not tell thee, nor do thou my silence
chide,
But ask thou what else shall please thee and my lips naught
from thee shall hide,
But on this thing alone keep silence, and follow thou what I
say!'
But Gawain, he would ever ask her, and ever an answer pray, 40
What ladies were they who sat there, and looked from that
stately hall?
And the maiden she wept full sorely, and aloud in her grief
did call.
'Twas yet in the early dawning, and her father he sought her
side,
Nor I deem me had he been wrathful if here did such chance
betide
That Gawain with the maid had striven, and had forced her
unto his will, 45
And the maiden, so fair and gentle, in such wise did she hold
her still,
For beside the couch was she seated--Then her father he
mildly spake,
'Now weep not so sore, my daughter, for if one a jest doth
make
Whereof thou at first art wrathful, yet I ween ere the time
be long,
Shall thy sorrow be changed to gladness, and thy wailing to
joyful song!' 50
Quoth Gawain, 'Nay, mine host, naught hath chanced here save
that which thine eye may see;
This maiden I fain would question, but naught would she tell
to me,
For she thinketh, 'tis my undoing, and silence hath she
implored:
But now if it shall not vex thee let my service here find
reward,
And tell me, mine host, if it please thee, how it stands with
those ladies there, 55
For I know not the place or the country where I looked on
such maidens fair,
So many there are, and their raiment showeth clear to my
wondering sight!'
Then the host wrung his hands for sorrow, and he spake, 'Ask
me not, Sir Knight,
In the name of God, ask no question--For wherever thy foot
shall speed,
Or whatever thine eyes shall light on, no need shall be like
their need!' 60
'Then soothly I'll mourn for their sorrow,' quoth Gawain,
'but mine host now say
Why vex thee so sore for my question? Thine answer why thus
delay?'
'Sir Knight, for thy manhood mourn I, if thou wilt not thy
question spare
Then strife sure shall be thy portion, and sorrow thine heart
shall bear.
And thy sorrow of joy shall rob us, myself and my children
three, 65
Who were born for thy gallant service true service to yield
to thee.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yet for this thou shalt tell me, or if thou
still say me, Nay,
And I learn not from thee the story yet the truth will I know
alway!'
Then the host he spake out truly, 'Sir Knight, I must sorely
rue,
The question thou here dost ask me--Thou goest to strife
anew, 70
Arm thee well, and a shield I'll lend thee--In "Terre
Merveil" thou art,
And the "Lit Merveil" shall be here--And ne'er hath a
knightly heart
Withstood all the many dangers that in Château Merveil shall
be!
Turn aside, ere thy death o'ertake thee, for life should be
dear to thee!
For wherever thine hand shall have striven, or what ventures
soe'er it found 75
As child's play have been thy perils to those which beset
this ground!'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yet 'twould sorely vex me, if I, but to save
me pain,
Rode hence, doing naught, and those ladies had looked for
mine aid in vain.
Long since have I heard of this castle, and since it so near
doth stand
No man from the task shall bring me; to the venture I set my
hand!' 80
Then the host he did sore bemoan him, and he spake to his
guest so true,
'Now as naught is all other peril, what perils around thee
drew,
To the peril of this adventure, to its awe, and its anguish
dire,
And naught but the truth am I speaking, for no man ever spake
me liar!
But that gallant knight, Sir Gawain, for naught would he turn
aside, 85
But he quoth, 'Now mine host give counsel how the strife I
may best abide,
If thy words be the words of wisdom, and God give me the
strength thereto,
Thy will and thy rede I'll follow, and knightly the deeds
I'll do!
Sir Host, of a sooth it were ill done, did I fail here a blow
to strike,
And coward should I be accounted of foeman and friend alike.' 90
Then first did the host bemoan him, such sorrow he ne'er
might know,
And he quoth to his guest, 'If it may be that Heaven such
grace shall show
That death be not here thy portion, then this land unto thee
shall fall.
And the stake is full many a maiden fast bound in a magic
thrall,
No man ere this day hath freed them--And with them many noble
knights 95
Shall lie as yet imprisoned; and if thou with hand of might
Shall loose them, thou winnest glory, and God showeth grace
to thee,
And joyful, o'er light and beauty, king and ruler thou sure
shalt be!
And maidens from many a country shall honour thee as their
king.
Nor think, if thou now dost ride hence, such deed shame on
thee should bring, 100
Since on this field Lischois Giwellius hath yielded him to
thine hand,
And left unto thee his honour; who erstwhile in every land
Hath done gallant deeds of knighthood, of right may I praise
his name,
No knight showed a higher courage, or won him a fairer fame.
And in no heart the root of virtue it showeth such fair
increase 105
In blossom and flower of God's planting, save in Ither of
Gaheviess!'
'And he who at Nantes slew Prince Ither my ship bare but
yesterday,
Five steeds hath he given unto me, (God keep him in peace
alway,)
Princes and kings once rode them, but now they afar must
fare,
And tidings of him who o'erthrew them must they carry to
Pelrapär. 110
For thus have they sworn the victor--His shield telleth many
a tale
Of jousting so fair and knightly--He rode hence to seek the
Grail!'
Quoth Gawain, 'Say, whence came he hither? Mine host, since
he rode so near,
Knew he naught of the wondrous venture? Or did he the marvel
hear?'
'Sir Knight, ne'er a word hath he heard here, I guarded me
all too well, 115
Lest unseemly my deed be reckoned if unasked I the tale
should tell.
And hadst thou thyself not asked me thou never from me hadst
known
The venture that here awaits thee, wrought of terror and pain
alone.
If thou wilt not forego this peril, and thy life shall the
forfeit pay,
Then never a greater sorrow have we known than we know
to-day. 120
But if thou shalt here be victor, and over this land shalt
reign,
Then my poverty hath an ending, and my loss shall be turned
to gain;
Such trust in thy free hand have I, I shall joy without
sorrow know
If thy glory here winneth glory, and thy body be not laid
low!'
'Now arm thee for deadly warfare!'--unarmed was as yet
Gawain, 125
'Now I prithee bring here my harness!' and the host to his
will was fain.
And from head to foot she armed him, the maiden fair and
tall,
And her father he sought the charger--Now a shield hung upon
the wall,
And the wood it was tough and well hardened, (else Gawain
ne'er this tale might tell,)
And the shield and the horse were brought him--and the host
he bethought him well; 130
And, as once more he stood before him, he spake, 'List thou
well, Sir Knight,
I will tell thee how thou shalt bear thee, and guard thee thy
life in fight:'
'My shield shalt thou carry with thee! Of war shall it bear
no trace
For but seldom I strive in battle, nor I count it me as
disgrace.
When thou comest, Sir Knight, to the castle, do this, it
shall serve thy steed: 135
At the doorway a merchant sitteth, buy of him that which thou
shalt need,
Then give him thy steed, he will hold it, nor care thou what
thou shalt buy,
As a pledge will he hold thy charger, and will give it thee
joyfully
If unhurt from the Burg thou comest!' Quoth Gawain, 'Say,
shall I not ride?'
'Nay, nay, for sore peril neareth, and the maidens their
faces hide!' 140
'Thou shalt find that fair palace lonely, deserted by great
and small,
And no token of living creature shalt thou see in that
stately hall.
And may God's grace watch o'er thy footsteps, and His
blessing go with thine hand
When thou comest into the chamber where the "Lit Merveil"
shall stand.
And the couch, and the rollers beneath it, in Morocco they
first were made 145
For the Ruler of all the Faithful; and were it in the balance
weighed
'Gainst all treasures of crown and kingdom it still would
outweigh them all.
And I wot, there shall ill o'ertake thee, and God knoweth
what shall befall,
But I pray that the end be joyful! Yet hearken, Sir Knight,
to me,
This sword and this shield that thou holdest, in thine hand
must they ever be, 150
For surely when thou shalt think thee that the peril hath
done its worst,
Then _first_ mayst thou look for conflict, and _then_ shall
the storm-cloudburst!'
Then mournful I ween was the maiden, as Gawain to the saddle
sprung,
And all they who stood around her they wept and their hands
they wrung,
Then he quoth to his host, 'God grant me that hereafter I may
repay 115
The care and the kindly counsel I have won from thy lips
to-day.'
Then leave did he pray of the maiden, and her sorrow was sore
to see,
He rode hence, and they whom he left here they mourned for
him bitterly.
And now, if ye fain would hearken what unto Gawain befell,
The tale of his wondrous venture right gladly to ye I'll
tell. 160
And in this wise I heard the story--As he came to the castle
gate,
A merchant with merchandise costly without did his coming
wait.
And so rich were his wares, and precious, that in sooth I
were glad at heart
If I, in so great a treasure, my portion might bear and part.
Then, Sir Gawain, he sprang from his charger, for ne'er had
he seen before 165
Outspread in the open market such goods as were here in
store.
And the booth was of velvet fashioned, four-square, and both
wide and high,
And that which lay there for purchase no monarch might
lightly buy.
The Baruch of Bagdad scarcely had paid that which lay
therein;
Nor the Patriarch of Rankulat might think him such prize to
win. 170
Yea, and great as shall be the treasure that was found but
awhile ago
In the land of the Greeks yet their Emperor such riches might
hardly know!
And e'en if these twain had helped him the price he had
failed to pay
That a man must count for the treasure that here before
Gawain lay.
Then the knight greeted well the merchant as he looked on the
wondrous store 175
Of marvels that lay before him, but he stayed not to turn it
o'er,
But bade him show clasp and girdle; then he quoth to the hero
bold,
'For many a year have I sat here, yet no man doth my wares
behold;
None but ladies have looked upon them! yet if manhood shall
nerve thine hand
Of all here shalt thou be the master; they were brought from
a distant land, 180
If here thou shalt be the victor, (for in sooth hast thou
come for fight,)
And the venture shall well betide thee, I will deal with thee
well, Sir Knight!
For all that my booth containeth is thine if thou win the
day!
So trust thou in God and His mercy, and take to the Burg thy
way.
Plippalinòt in sooth hath sent thee, and thy coming well
praised shall be 185
Of many a gracious maiden if thy prowess shall set her free!'
'Now wouldst thou withstand this venture leave here for
awhile thy steed,
If thou trust it unto my keeping, I will give to the charge
good heed.'
Quoth Gawain, 'Yea, I'll gladly do so, if unseemly be not the
task,
Too greatly I fear thy riches such grace from thine hand to
ask, 190
For ne'er since I rode upon it such keeper my steed hath
known'--
Out quoth the merchant freely, 'Sir Knight, all shall be
thine own,
Myself, and the wares I guard here, (nor further of them I'll
speak,)
They are his, who in safety faceth the danger thou here dost
seek!'
And so bold was I ween the hero that on foot did he go
straightway, 195
Undaunted, to face the peril untold that before him lay.
And, as I before have told ye, the Burg it stood high and
wide,
And its bulwarks so stoutly builded did guard it on either
side.
If for thirty years they stormed it, not a berry or leaf
would yield,
However the foe might threaten; in the midst was a grassy
field, 200
(Yet the Lechfeld I ween is longer,) many turrets they
towered on high,
And the story it tells that Gawain, as the palace he did
espy,
Saw the roof shine all many-coloured, as peacock's plumes its
glow,
And so bright it was that its glory was dimmed nor by rain
nor snow.
And within was it richly furnished, and decked to delight the
eye, 205
And the pillars were richly carven, and the windows were
arched on high,
And many a fair couch costly had they set there against the
wall,
Nor touched they the one to the other, and rich covers lay
over all.
And but now had the maidens sat there, but each one had taken
thought,
And no one of them all remained there, and of welcome Gawain
found naught. 210
Yet their joy came again with his coming, and the day of
their bliss was he,
And 'twere well they had looked upon him, none fairer their
eyes might see.
Yet none there might dare behold him, tho' to serve them he
aye was fain,
And yet in this thing were they guiltless--Thro' the palace
strode knight Gawain,
And he looked on this side and the other, and he sought well
the chamber o'er, 215
If to left or to right I know not, but he saw there an open
door,
And wherever that door might lead him the hero was fain to
go,
If high fame he might gain for his seeking, or die there a
death of woe!
So stepped he within the chamber, and behold! the shining
floor,
As glass it lay smooth beneath him, and the Lit-Merveil he
saw, 220
The wonder-couch; and beneath it four rollers as crystal
clear,
And fashioned of fire-red rubies: as the swift wind afar and
near
Did it speed o'er the shining pavement, no floor might fairer
be,
Chrysolite, sardius, jasper, inwrought there the eye might
see.
For so had Klingsor willed it, and the thought it was his
alone, 225
From far-off lands his magic had brought to the Burg each
stone.
So smooth 'neath his feet the pavement, scarce might be his
footing hold,
Then fain would he seek the venture, but, so is the marvel
told,
As ever he stood before it the couch from its station fled,
And swift as the winds of heaven o'er the glittering floor it
sped. 230
(And Gawain he found all too heavy the shield that his hand
gripped fast,
And yet did his host give counsel it should ne'er on one side
be cast.)
Thought Gawain, 'Now, how may I reach thee, since still thou
dost fly from me?
Methinks thou shalt have a lesson, it may be I may spring to
thee!'
Then still stood the couch before him, and straight from the
ground he leapt 235
And stood firm in the midst of the marvel, and again o'er the
floor it swept,
And hither and thither turning in the four walls its goal it
found,
And blow upon blow fell swiftly, till the Burg echoed back
the sound.
And many a charge did he ride there, with crash, as of
thunder-cloud,
Or as trumpeters blow together when their blasts thro' the
hall ring loud, 240
And the one vieth with the other, and each for a fair prize
blows.
Less loud should have been their tumult than the tumult that
there arose!
And waken and watch must Sir Gawain, altho' on a bed he lay.
How best might the hero guard him? The noise he was fain to
stay,
And his head with his shield he covered--There he lay, and
would wait His will 245
Who hath help in His power, and helpeth all those who entreat
Him still,
And shutteth His ear to no man who in sorrow for aid doth
pray.
And the man who is wise and steadfast, as dawneth his
sorrow's day,
Doth call on the hand of the Highest, that shall ne'er be too
short to reach,
And the aid that shall meet their lacking He sendeth to all
and each. 250
And so was it now with Gawain--Thro' Whose grace he had
gotten fame,
He called on His power and His mercy to shelter him here from
shame.
Then stilled for a space the clamour--The couch stood within
the hall,
And an equal space had they measured from its station to
either wall.
Yet now waxed his peril greater, for five hundred missiles,
swung 255
With craft from hands yet hidden, were against Sir Gawain
flung.
And they fell on the couch as he lay there; but the shield it
was hard and new,
And it sheltered him well, and I think me of the blows did he
feel but few.
And the stones were as river pebbles, so heavy, and hard, and
round,
And in many a place on the surface of the shield might their
trace be found. 260
At length was the stone-shower ended, and never before he
knew
Such sharp and such heavy missiles as those which toward him
flew.
For now full five hundred cross-bows were bended, their bolts
they sped,
And each one was aimed at the hero as he lay on the
Wonder-Bed.
(And he who hath faced such peril in sooth he of darts may
tell:) 265
Yet their wrath was soon spent, and silence for awhile on the
chamber fell.
And he who would seek for comfort he ne'er on such couch
should lie!
Little solace or rest may he find there, but peace from his
face shall fly!
And youth would wax grey and agèd, if such comfort should be
its share
As fell to the lot of Gawain, when he lay on that couch so
fair. 270
Yet nor weariness nor terror had weakened or hand or heart,
Tho' the stones and the bolts of the cross-bow had done on
his limbs their part,
And spite of both shield and corslet, sore bruisèd and cut
was he:
And he thought that, this peril ended, the venture should
ended be--
But yet with his hand must he battle, and the prize of the
victor win, 275
For a doorway e'en now flew open, and one trode the hall
within;
And the man was a mighty peasant, and fearful of face, and
grim,
And the hide of the grey sea-otter was his covering on head
and limb,
And his hosen were wide, and he carried a club in his strong
right hand,
And 'twas thicker I ween than a pitcher that round-bellied
doth firmly stand. 280
So came he unto Sir Gawain, (and his coming it pleased him
ill,)
Yet he thought, 'He doth bear no harness, mine arms shall
withstand him still,'
Upright on the couch he sat him, as nor terror nor pain he
knew,
And the peasant, as he would flee him, a space from the bed
withdrew,
And he cried in a voice so wrathful, 'From _me_ hast thou
naught to fear, 285
Yet such peril I'll loose upon thee that thy life must thou
buy full dear;
The devil himself doth aid thee, else wert thou not still in
life,
Bethink thee, for death cometh swiftly, and the ending of all
thy strife,
No more can the devil shield thee, that I tell thee ere hence
I pass!'
Then he gat him once more thro' the doorway, and Gawain
gripped his sword-hilt fast, 290
And the shafts did he smite asunder of the arrows that thro'
his shield
Had passed, and had pierced his armour, nor yet to his hand
would yield.
Then a roar, as of mighty thunder, on the ear of Gawain did
fall,
As when twenty drums were sounding to dance in the castle
hall.
Then the hero, so firm and dauntless, whose courage ne'er
felt the smart 295
Of the wounds that cowardice pierceth, thought thus in his
steadfast heart:
'What evil shall now befall me? Must I yet more sorrow know?
For sorrow enow have I seen here, yet here will I face my
foe!'
He looked toward the peasant's doorway, and a mighty lion
sprang thro',
And its size was e'en that of a warhorse, and straight on
Gawain it flew. 300
But Gawain he was loth to fly here, and his shield he held
fast before,
As best for defence should serve him, and he sprang down upon
the floor.
And the lion was hunger-ravening, yet little should find for
food,
Tho' raging it sprang on the hero, who bravely its rush
withstood.
The shield it had near torn from him, with the first grip its
talons fierce 305
It drave thro' the wood, such hardness but seldom a beast may
pierce.
Yet Gawain did right well defend him, his sword-blade aloft
he swung,
And on three feet the beast must hold him, while the fourth
from the shield yet hung.
And the blood gushed forth on the pavement, and Gawain he
firmer stood,
And the fight raged hither and thither, as the lion, on the
hero good, 310
Sprang ever with snorting nostrils, and gleaming fangs and
white--
And if on such food they had reared it, that its meat was a
gallant knight,
_I_ had cared not to sit beside it! Nor such custom pleased
Gawain well,
Who for life or for death must fight it--and the strife ever
fiercer fell.
So sorely the beast was wounded, the chamber with blood ran
o'er; 315
Fierce sprang the lion upon Gawain, and would bear him unto
the floor,
But Gawain a sword-thrust dealt him, thro' the heart the
swift blade sped
Till his hand smote full on the breast-bone, and the lion at
his feet fell dead.
And now all the deadly peril and the conflict was over-past--
In the same hour Gawain bethought him, 'Where now shall my
lot be cast? 320
Since to sit in this blood I like not, and I must of the
couch beware,
For it runneth a race so frantic 'twere foolish to sit me
there!'
But yet was his head so deafened with the blows that upon him
fell,
And many his wounds, and the life-blood did forth from its
fountains well,
And his strength waxed faint, and it left him, and he fell on
the chamber floor; 325
His head lay on the lion's body, and the shield might he hold
no more.
And if wisdom and power were his portion, of the twain was he
reft I ween,
And tho' fair was the Burg, yet within it full rough had his
handling been.
His senses forsook him wholly--no such pillow I ween was his
As that which on Mount Ribbelé Gymele gave to Kahenis; 330
Both fair and wise was the maiden--and his honour he slept
away--
But here honour ran swift-footed to Gawain as he prostrate
lay.
For in sooth ye shall well have hearkened, and shall know how
such chance befell,
That thus lay the hero lifeless, from the first have ye heard
it well.
Then in secret one looked upon him, and the chamber with
blood was red, 335
And the lion alike and the hero they lay as the twain were
dead.
'Twas a fair and gracious maiden who saw thro' a loop-hole
high,
And her face it grew wan, and the colour from her lips and
her cheek must fly.
And youth was so heavy-hearted that old age sore must mourn
her tale.
Yet Arnivé was wise, and her wisdom did here o'er the woe
prevail, 340
And still for this deed must I praise her, she drew near to
aid Gawain,
And from peril of death she freed him who freedom for her
would gain.
Then herself she was fain to behold him, and they gazed thro'
the window small,
And naught might they tell, those women, of what waited them
in the hall.
Was it news of a joyful future? Or of woe that should last
for aye? 345
And the queen's heart it sore misgave her that the hero had
died that day,
(And the thought brought her grief and sorrow,) since he
sought him no better bed,
But silent he lay, and rested on the corse of the lion his
head.
And she spake, 'From my heart I mourn thee, if thy manhood so
true and brave
Hath won thee no better guerdon, and thy life thou hast
failed to save. 350
If death here hath been thy portion for our sake, who shall
strangers be,
And thy truth to such fate hath brought thee, then for ever
I'll mourn for thee.
And thy virtue I'll praise, tho' the counting of thy years I
may never know!'
And she spake to the weeping women, as they looked on the
knight laid low,
'Ye maids who shall be baptizèd, and by water have won a
place 355
In God's kingdom, pray ye unto Him, that He show to this hero
grace!'
Then she sent below two maidens, and she bade them to seek
Gawain,
And softly draw nigh unto him, nor pass from his side again
Till they brought her full assurance how it went with the
gallant knight,
If perchance he should yet be living, or had found his death
in fight. 360
So she gave to the twain commandment--Did they weep those
maidens fair?
Yea, both must weep full sorely for the grief that was here
their share,
When they found the hero lying, for his wounds they ran with
blood
Till the shield in blood was swimming--then they bent o'er
the hero good,
And with gentle hand the helmet one loosened from off his
head, 365
And she saw a light foam gathered upon his lips so red,
And she waited a space and hearkened, if perchance she might
hear his breath,
For but now had she thought him living, yet she deemed it
might well be death.
And his over-dress was of sable, and the mystic beasts it
bore,
Such as Ilinot the Breton as his badge with great honour
wore. 370
(And courage and fame were his portion from his youth till
his dying day.)
From the coat with her ready fingers the sable she tore away,
And she held it before his nostrils, for thus might she
better know
If yet he should live, since his breathing would stir the
hair to and fro.
And the breath was yet there, and straightway she bade her
companion bring 375
Fair water, the gentle maiden did swift on her errand spring.
Then the maid placed her ring so golden betwixt his teeth
closed fast,
And deft was her hand in the doing, and between his lips she
passed,
Drop by drop, e'en as he might take it, the water, and little
space
Ere he lifted once more his eyelids, and he looked on the
maiden's face. 380
And he thanked them, those two sweet children, and offered
them service meet--
Alas! that ye here should find me, unseemly laid at your
feet!
If ye will on this chance keep silence, for good will I count
the deed,
And courtesy shall ye honour if ye give to my words good
heed!'
Quoth the maid, 'Thou hast lain, and thou liest, as one who
the prize doth hold, 385
In sooth thou art here the victor and in joy shall thy life
wax old,
To-day is thy day of triumph! But comfort us now I pray,
Is it so with thy wounds that, naught fearing, we may joy in
thy joy to-day?'
Then he quoth, 'Would ye see me living, then help shall ye
bring to me.'
And he prayed of those gracious maidens that a leech to his
wounds should see, 390
Or one who was skilled in healing, 'But if yet I must face
the strife,
Go ye hence, give me here my helmet, and gladly I'll guard my
life!'
But they spake, 'Nay, the strife is over, Sir Knight, send us
not away,
Yet one shall go, and the guerdon of messenger win
straightway.
To the four queens shall she betake her, and shall say that
thou livest still, 395
And a chamber shall they prepare thee, and leechcraft with
right goodwill,
And with salves shall thy wounds be tended, and so mild shall
their working be
That thy pain shall be swiftly lessened, and healing be
brought to thee!'
Then one of the maids sprang swiftly, and she ran with no
halting tread,
With the news that the knight was living straightway to the
court she sped. 400
'In sooth shall he be so living, if ever it be God's will,
Rich in joy may we be henceforward and glad without fear of
ill,
For naught but good help he needeth,' 'Dieu Merci!' then
quoth they all.
Then the old queen wise her maidens did straightway around
her call,
And she bade them a bed prepare him, and a carpet she spread
before, 405
And a fire on the hearth burnt brightly, and precious the
salves they bore.
And the queen with wisdom mixed them for the healing of cut
or bruise.
In that hour from among her women four maids did Arnivé
choose,
And she bade them disarm the hero, and his harness bear soft
away,
And with wisdom should they deal with him lest he feel
himself shamed alway. 410
'A silk shall ye bear about ye, in its shadow the knight
disarm,
If yet he can walk he may do so, if else, bear him in your
arms
To where I by the bed await him, for his couch will I rightly
care,
If the strife in such wise hath fallen that no deadly wound
he bear,
Then I think me I soon may heal him, but if wounded he be to
death 415
Then cloven our joy--with the hero are we slain tho' we yet
draw breath!'
And all this was done as she bade them, disarmed was the
knight Gawain,
Then they led him where help they gave him who well knew to
ease his pain.
And of wounds did they find full fifty, or perchance they
were even more,
But the darts had not pierced too deeply since ever his
shield he bore. 420
Then the queen in her wisdom took her warm wine, and a sendal
blue,
And Dictam, the herb of healing, and she wiped with her hand
so true
The blood from his wounds, and she closed them, and the flow
of the life-blood stayed.
And wherever his helm was indented the stones on his head had
made
Sore bruises, yet they must vanish 'fore the salves and their
healing power, 425
And the master-skill of Arnivé who tended him in that hour!
And she quoth, 'Ease I well may give thee, whiles Kondrie
doth come to me,
And all help that may be in leechcraft of her friendship she
telleth free.
Since Anfortas so sore doth suffer, and they seek aid from
far and near,
This salve shall from death have kept him, from Monsalväsch
'twas brought me here.' 430
When Gawain heard she spake of Monsalväsch, then in sooth was
he glad at heart,
For he deemed it was near--Then this hero, who ne'er had in
falsehood part,
Spake thus to the queen, 'Now, Lady, my senses that far were
fled,
Hast thou won back again, and mine anguish I ween hast thou
minishèd,
What of strength shall be mine, or of wisdom, I owe to thine
hand alone, 435
Thy servant am I!' But the queen spake, 'Sir Knight, thou
such faith hast shown
That we all must rejoice in thy welfare, and strive for it
faithfully.
But follow my rede, nor speak much, a root will I give to
thee
That shall win thee refreshing slumber, thou shalt care not
for drink or meat
Till the night, then such food I'll bring thee thou shalt
need not ere morn to eat.' 440
Then a root 'twixt his lips she laid there, and straightway
he fell asleep,
And throughout the day he slumbered, and in coverings they
happed him deep.
Rich in honour and poor in shaming, soft and warm, there in
peace he lay,
Yet he sneezed, and at whiles he shivered, for the salve
wrought on him alway.
And a company of fair women passed within and without the
door, 445
And fair was the light of their faces, and stately the mien
they bore.
And she bade them, the Queen Arnivé, that silence they all
should keep,
None should call, and no maiden answer, so long as the knight
should sleep.
And she bade them fast close the palace, nor burger, nor
squire, nor knight,
Should hear what had there befallen till the dawn of the
morning light. 450
But new sorrow drew nigh to the women--The knight slept till
even grey,
Then Arnivé the queen in her wisdom drew the root from his
lips away.
And straightway he woke, and he thirsted, and they brought
him of drink and meat,
And he raised himself and, rejoicing, as they brought him so
would he eat:
And many a maid stood before him, such fair service he ne'er
had known, 455
So courteous their mien and bearing--then he looked at them
one by one
And he gazed at each and the other, yet still his desire was
set
On the lady Orgelusé, for ne'er saw he woman yet,
In all the days of his lifetime, who so near to his heart did
lie;
Tho' many his prayer had hearkened, and _some_ did their love
deny! 460
Then out spake the gallant hero to Arnivé, his leech so wise,
'Lady, 'twill ill beseem me, nor deal I in courteous guise,
If these ladies stand here before me, I would they might
seated be,
Or if such be thy will it were better shouldst thou bid them
to eat with me!'
'Nay, Sir Knight, none I ween may sit here save I, the queen,
alone, 465
And shamed would they surely hold them were such service not
gladly done,
For our joy shalt thou be; yet I think me that if this be thy
will indeed,
Whate'er shall be thy commandment, we will give to thy words
good heed.'
But nobly born were those ladies, and their courtesy did they
show,
For all with one voice they prayed him he would e'en let the
thing be so, 470
And while he should eat they would stand there; so waited
they on the guest
And passed hence when the meal was ended and Gawain was laid
to rest.
BOOK XII
EIDEGAST
ARGUMENT
In Book XII. the poet recounts the valiant deeds done by Gawain's
kinsmen for love's sake, and how they were as naught to the
perils
dared by Gawain.
Of the watch-tower in the castle, and the magic pillar, and how
Gawain
beheld the coming of Orgelusé and her knight.
How Gawain fought with and overcame the Turkowit, and how he was
urged by Orgelusé's mockery to the venture of the Perilous Ford.
How he plucked a bough from a tree guarded by King Gramoflanz,
and
was challenged by that monarch to single combat. Of the
repentance
of Orgelusé, and her reconciliation with Gawain, and how both
were
welcomed by the dwellers in Château Merveil. How Gawain secretly
sent a
squire to the court of King Arthur bidding him, his knights and
ladies,
to Ioflanz to witness the combat between Gawain and Gramoflanz.
BOOK XII
EIDEGAST
Now he who his rest had broken, if rest he perchance might
win,
Methinks they who hear the story had counted it him for sin.
For, e'en as the venture telleth, sore toil had the hero
known,
And in sooth did he face such peril that his fame thro' all
lands hath flown.
Lancelot on the sword-bridge battled, and Meljakanz must sue
for grace, 5
Yet as naught was I ween his danger to the woe that Gawain
must face.
And that which is told of Garel, the valiant and knightly
king,
Who o'erthrew the lion 'fore the palace and made Nantes with
his daring ring--
And he sought the knife too, Garel, but he paid for his deed
full dear
In the pillar of marble--greater was the venture ye read of
here! 10
For the darts that were shot against Gawain, as his manly
courage bade,
For a mule were too great a burden if they all on its back
were laid!
The Perilous Ford hath its dangers; and Erec must sorrow
know,
When for Schoie-de-la-kurt he battled, and Mabonagrein would
fain lay low,
Yet ne'er had he faced such peril as fell here to knight
Gawain. 15
Nor Iwein, the gallant hero, who water would pour amain,
Nor feared of the stone the venture--Were these perils all
knit in one,
He who knoweth to measure danger saith Gawain greater deeds
had done!
What peril is this I tell of? If ye will, I the woe will
name,
Or too early perchance the telling? Swift-foot Orgelusé came, 20
And straight to the heart of the hero hath she taken her
silent way,
That heart that hath ne'er known trembling, that courage hath
ruled alway.
And how came it so stately lady might hide in so small a
space?
For narrow I ween was the pathway that led to her
resting-place.
And all sorrow he knew aforetime was as nought to this bitter
woe, 25
And a low wall it was that hid her when his heart did her
presence know
In whose service he never faltered, but was watchful as he
was true.
Nor find ye here food for laughter, that one who ne'er terror
knew,
A hero so brave in battle, should yield to a woman's hand.
Alas! woe is me for the marvel that no man may understand! 30
And Frau Minne she waxeth wrathful 'gainst him who the prize
hath won,
Yet dauntless and brave hath she found him, and shall find
him, till life be done.
Who harm on a wounded foeman shall work doth his honour
stain,
Yet in strength 'gainst his will did Love bind him, and it
turnèd to him for gain.
Frau Minne, wouldst have men praise thee? Then this will I
say to thee, 35
This strife shall be not to thine honour, since sore wounded
Gawain shall be.
And ever throughout his life-days has he lived as thou didst
command,
And he followed in this his father, and the men of his
mother's land.
For they yielded thee loyal service since the days Mazadan
was king,
Who Terre-de-la-Schoie from Fay-Morgan in thy service did
gallant bring. 40
And this do men tell of his children, no man from his fealty
fell.
And Ither of Gaheviess bare it, thy badge, and he served thee
well;
And never in woman's presence did one speak of the hero's
name
But their hearts yearned in love towards him, and they spake
it, nor thought it shame,
How then when they looked upon him? Then the tale first was
told aright! 45
Frau Minne, a faithful servant didst thou lose in that
gallant knight!
Slay Gawain if thou wilt, as his cousin Ilinot by thine hand
was slain,
Since thy power with the bitter torment of desire did the
knight constrain,
Till he strove for the love of his lady all the days of his
fair young life,
Florie of Kanedig was she, and he served her in many a
strife. 50
And he fled from the land of his fathers in the days of his
youth's unrest,
And was reared by this queen, and Britain ne'er saw him but
as a guest.
And the burden of Love weighed on him, and from Florie's land
he fled,
Till the day that in true love's service, as I told ye, men
found him dead.
And often the kin of Gawain thro' love have known sorrow
sore, 55
And of those by Frau Minne wounded could I name to ye many
more.
And why did the snow and the blood-drops move Parzival's
faithful heart?
'Twas his _wife_ wrought the spell, I think me! Yea, others
have known thine art,
Galoes and Gamuret hast thou vanquished, and in sooth hast
thou laid them low,
And the twain for their true love's guerdon must the death of
a hero know. 60
And Itonjé, Gawain's fair sister, must love Gramoflanz the
king,
And grieve for her love; and sorrow, Frau Minne, thou once
didst bring
On fair Surdamur and her lover: since thou sufferest not
Gawain's kin
To seek them another service, so on him wouldst thou honour
win!
Be mighty towards the mighty but here let Gawain go free, 65
His wounds they so sorely pain him, and the hale should thy
foemen be!
But many have sung of love's working who never so knew love's
power,
For myself, I would hold me silent--But true lovers shall
mourn this hour
What chanced unto him of Norway, for the venture he faced
right well,
And now, without help or warning, love's tempest upon him
fell! 70
Quoth the hero, 'Alas, for restless my resting-place shall
be,
One couch did so sorely wound me, and the other hath brought
to me
Sore torment of love and longing! Orgelusé must favour show
Unto me her true knight and servant, or small joy shall my
life-days know!'
As unresting he turned, and he stretched him, the bands from
his wounds were torn, 75
So restless he lay and wakeful awaited the coming morn.
And at last the day shone on him, and many a battlefield
And sword-strife more rest had brought him than the rest
which his couch might yield.
Would one liken his woe unto Gawain's, and be e'en such a
lover true,
Of his love-wounds let him be healèd, and then smitten by
darts anew, 80
And methinks he shall find that the sorrow and torment shall
vex him more
Than all the sum of the sorrow he hath borne for love's sake
before!
Nor love's torments alone vexed Gawain--Ever clearer it grew,
the light,
Till dark seemed the lofty tapers that erstwhile had shone so
bright.
Then up sprang from his couch the hero, and as blood, and as
iron, red 85
With wounds, and with rust, was his linen, yet beside him he
saw outspread
Hosen and shirt of woollen, and the change pleased our hero
well,
And robes lined with fur of the marten, and a garment that
o'er them fell,
(In Arras its stuff was woven, and from Arras 'twas hither
sent,)
And boots had they lain beside it, none too narrow for his
content. 90
In these garments anew he clothed him, and forth from the
chamber went
Gawain, and hither and thither his steps thro' the palace
bent,
Till he found the hall of his venture, no riches he e'er had
known
To liken unto the glories within this fair castle shown.
And there at one side of the palace a narrow dome he found, 95
And it rose high above the building, and a staircase within
it wound,
And above stood a shining pillar; nor of wood was it shapen
fair,
But so large and so strong that the coffin of Kamilla it well
might bear.
And Klingsor, the wise, he brought it from the kingdom of
Feirefis,
And his cunning and skill had fashioned both the hall and the
stair I wis! 100
No tent might so round be fashioned; did the Master Geometras
will
To raise such a work he had failèd, for unknown to his hand
the skill.
'Twas magic alone that wrought it--The venture it bids us
know
Of diamond, amethyst, topaz, carbuncle with red-fire glow,
Of chrysolite, emerald, ruby, and sardius, the windows tall, 105
That each one like to the other encircled this wondrous hall.
And rich as the window columns, and carven, the roof
o'erhead,
And herein was a greater marvel than all marvels ye yet have
read;
For, the vault below, no pillar was like to that column fair
That stood in the midst of the circle, and wondrous the power
it bare, 110
For so the venture telleth--Gawain fain would gaze around,
And alone did he climb the watch-tower, and precious the
jewels he found.
And he saw there a greater wonder, and the sight never vexed
his eye,
For he thought him upon the column all the lands of the earth
did lie.
And he saw the countries circle, and the mighty mountains'
crest 115
Meet, e'en as two hosts in battle, as one vision the other
pressed.
And folk did he see in the pillar, and on horse or afoot they
went,
They ran, and they stood: in a window he sat him on seeing
bent.
Came the agèd Queen Arnivé, with Sangivé her child, and there
Were two maidens, the gentle daughters that Sangivé erewhile
did bear. 120
And the four queens they came unto Gawain, and he saw them
and sprang upright;
And thus quoth the Queen Arnivé, 'Methinks thou shouldst
sleep, Sir Knight,
For though rest may no longer please thee, thou art wounded
too sore, I trow,
That thou further toil and labour shouldst yet for a season
know!'
Quoth the knight, 'Lady mine and my mistress, since thy
wisdom hath brought to me 125
My wit, and my strength, all my lifetime thy servant I fain
would be!'
Quoth the queen, 'If I so may read them, the words thou didst
speak but now,
And thou ownest me as thy mistress, then Sir Knight, to my
bidding bow,
And kiss at my will these ladies, as thou mayest, without
thought of shame,
Since nor mother nor maid before thee but a kingly birth may
claim!' 130
Then glad was Gawain at her bidding, and he kissed those
ladies three,
And Sangivé was first, then Itonjé, and the third was the
fair Kondrie.
And the five sat them down together, and Gawain saw those
maidens twain,
Their face and their form so gracious, and he looked, and he
looked again;
Yet one woman so worked upon him, for yet in his heart she
lay, 135
That their beauty by Orgelusé's he deemed but a cloudy day.
For he held with the Lady of Logrois none other might well
compare,
And his heart and his thoughts were captive to this lady so
sweet and fair.
Now 'twas done, and Gawain had been greeted with a kiss by
those ladies three,
And so fair were they all that I wot well their beauty would
fatal be 140
To a heart that was yet unwounded--Then he spake to the elder
queen,
And he prayed her to tell of the pillar, and the marvels he
there had seen.
Quoth Arnivé, 'By day and by night-time that pillar, I ween,
doth throw
Its light for six miles around it, so long as its power I
know.
And all that within that circuit doth chance on its face we
see, 145
In water, or on the meadow, and true shall the vision be.
The bird and the beast we see here, the guest and the woodman
true,
He who to this land is a stranger, or its ways of aforetime
knew.
Yea, all may we find within it, and it shineth for six miles
round;
And so fast and so firm it standeth none moveth it from the
ground, 150
And no hammer shall ever harm it, and no smith hath, I ween,
the skill.
'Twas stolen from Queen Sekundillé, I think me, against her
will!'
Now Gawain he saw at this moment on the column a goodly pair,
A knight with a lady riding, and he thought him the maid was
fair,
And clearly and well he saw them--and armed were both steed
and knight, 155
And his helmet was plumed and jewelled, and it gleamed in the
morning light.
And they rode at a hasty gallop thro' the defile out on the
plain:
Tho' I wot well he little knew it, yet they rode but to seek
Gawain!
And they came by the self-same pathway that Lischois he rode
afore,
The proud knight whom Gawain had vanquished, and in joust
from his charger bore. 160
And the lady she held the bridle of the knight who to joust
would ride,
And the sight to Gawain brought sorrow, and swiftly he turned
aside,
And behold! 'twas no lying vision, for without on the grassy
plain
By the river rode Orgelusé, and a knight at her side drew
rein.
E'en as hellebore within the nostril pierceth sharp, and a
man doth sneeze, 165
Thro' his eye to his heart came the Duchess, and she robbed
him of joy and ease!
Alas! I wot well 'gainst Frau Minne all helpless shall be
Gawain--
Then he looked on the knight who rode there, and he spake to
the queen again,
'Lady, a knight I see there, who rideth with well-aimed
spear,
Nor will cease from the goal he seeketh--Well! I ween he may
find it here, 170
Since he craveth some deed of knighthood I am ready with him
to fight,
But say, who shall be the maiden?' she quoth, ''Tis the lady
bright
Who is Duchess and queen of Logrois,--Now 'gainst whom doth
she bear ill-will?
For the Turkowit rideth with her, and unconquered shall he be
still.
With his spear such fame hath he won him, as were riches for
kingdoms three, 175
And against a hand so valiant 'twere best not to venture
thee;
For strife is it all too early, and thou shalt be hurt too
sore,
And e'en wert thou whole I should rede thee to strive with
him nevermore!'
Quoth Gawain, 'If indeed I be lord here then he who so near
shall seek
Deeds of knighthood, shall shame mine honour if vengeance I
fail to wreak. 180
Since he lusteth for strife, O Lady, thou shalt give me mine
armour here!'
Then the ladies, the four, bewailed them with many a bitter
tear:
And they quoth, 'Wilt thou deck thy glory? wilt thou greater
honour know?
Strive not now, shouldst thou fall before him then greater
shall wax our woe.
But e'en if thou be the victor, if thou girdest thine harness
on 185
Thou must die who so sore art wounded, and with thee are we
all undone!'
Gawain, he was sorely anguished, and the cause have ye heard
aright,
For he counted himself dishonoured by the coming of such a
knight
And his wounds, they must sorely pain him, yet love's torment
it vexed him more,
And the grief of these four fair ladies, and the love they
towards him bore. 190
Then he bade them to cease from weeping, and harness and
sword he craved,
And his charger; and those fair women they led forth the hero
brave.
And he bade them go forth before him, and adown the steps
they wind
To the hall where the other maidens so sweet and so fair they
find.
Then Gawain for his perilous journey was armed 'neath the
light of eyes 195
Tear-dimmed, and they secret held it, and none knew save the
merchant wise.
And they bade him the steed make ready, and the hero he
slowly stept
To the place where his charger waited--nor light on its back
he leapt,
But scarcely his shield might he carry, for in sooth was he
wounded sore.
And thro' centre and rim was it piercèd, and traces of battle
bore! 200
Then again he bestrode his charger, and he turned from the
Burg away,
And he rode to his host so faithful; and never he said him
Nay,
But all that he asked he gave him, a spear both strong and
new,
(Many such had, I ween, been his tribute from that plain
where they jousted true,)
Then Gawain bade him ship him over, in a ferry they sought
the shore, 205
And the Turkowit, who high courage and the thought of sure
victory bore;
For so well against shame was he armèd that ill-deeds from
before him fled,
And his fame was so high accounted, that they made of the
sward their bed
Who would ride a joust against him--From their charger they
needs must fall,
And of those who had faced his valour, his spear had
o'erthrown them all. 210
And this was the rule of the hero, that by spear-thrust, and
no sword-blade,
Would he win to him fame in battle, or his honour be
prostrate laid.
And to him who should face his onslaught, and o'erthrow him,
the self-same day
Would he yield, nor defend him further, but would give him
his pledge straightway.
And thus heard Gawain the story from him who the pledge did
hold, 215
For his pledge Plippalinòt took there, when the tale of the
joust was told.
Did one fall while the other sat still, with goodwill of the
heroes twain
Did he take that which one must forfeit, and the other
methinks should gain,
Of the charger I speak, hence he led it, for he deemed they
enough had fought.
Who was victor, and who the vanquished, from the Burg were
the tidings brought, 220
For the women, they looked on the jousting, and many a
conflict saw.
Then he bade Gawain seat him firmly, and the charger he led
to shore,
And his shield and his spear he gave him--and the Turkowit
swiftly came
As one who his joust can measure, nor too high nor too low
his aim.
And Gawain turned his horse against him--of Monsalväsch,
Gringuljet, 225
And it answered unto the bridle, and his spear 'gainst the
foe he set.
Now forward!--the joust be ridden--Here rideth King Lot's
fair son,
Undaunted his heart--Now know ye where the helm hath its
fastening won?
For there did his foeman strike him; but Gawain sought
another aim,
And swift thro' the helmet's visor with sure hand the
spear-point came, 230
And plain to the sight of all men was the fate of the joust
that day,
On his spear short and strong the helmet from his head Gawain
bare away,
And onward it rode, the helmet! But the knight on the grass
lay low,
Who was blossom and flower of all manhood till he met with
such mighty foe.
But now he in joust was vanquished, and the jewels from his
helm were seen 235
To vie with the dew on the herbage and the flowers on the
meadow green.
And Gawain, he rode back unto him, and his pledge did he take
that day,
And the boatman he claimed the charger, who was there should
say him Nay?
Thou art joyful, and yet hast small reason,' spake the lady
of Gawain's love,
(As of old were her words of mocking,) 'Since wherever thy
shield doth move 240
The lion's paw doth follow--And thou thinkest fresh fame to
gain
Since the ladies have looked on thy jousting---Well thou
mayst in thy bliss remain,
Since the Lit Merveil hath dealt gently and but little harm
hath wrought!
And yet is thy shield all splintered as if thou hadst bravely
fought--
Thou art doubtless too sorely wounded to yearn for a further
fray? 245
And such ill to the 'Goose' be reckoned, that I called thee
but yesterday.
So eager wert thou to vaunt thee, as a sieve hast thou
piercèd thro'
Thy shield, one would deem it riddled with the darts that
toward thee flew.
But _to-day_ mayst thou well shun danger--If thy finger shall
wounded be
Ride hence to the maids of the castle, for well will they
care for thee! 250
Far other strife were _his_ portion, to whom I a task would
give,
Did thine heart yet yearn for my favour, and thou wouldst in
my service live!'
Quoth Gawain to the Duchess, 'Lady, tho' deep were my wounds
I trow
They ere this have found help and healing--If such help I
from thee might know
That thou, gracious, wouldst own my service, no peril would
be so great, 255
But I, for thy love and rewarding, the issue would gladly
wait!'
Quoth she, 'Then shalt thou ride with me new honour perchance
to gain!'
Then rich in all joy and contentment was that valiant knight
Gawain--
And the Turkowit went with the boatman, and he bade him the
tidings bear
To the Burg, and there pray the maidens to have of the knight
good care. 260
And his spear it was yet unsplintered, tho' both horses they
spurred amain
To joust, his right hand yet held it, and he bare it from off
the plain.
And many a maiden saw him, and wept as he rode away.
Quoth Arnivé, 'Our joy and comfort hath chosen to him to-day
A joy for the eyes and a sorrow for the heart, yea, both
flower and thorn, 265
Alas! that he rides with the Duchess, since he leaveth us
here forlorn.
To the Perilous Ford he rideth, and his wounds sure shall
work him ill!'
(Maids four hundred must weep for his going, yet new tasks
would he fain fulfil.)
But yet tho' his wounds they pained him, his sorrow had taken
flight
When he looked upon Orgelusé, so fair was her mien and
bright. 270
Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt win me a garland of fresh leaves
from off a tree,
And I for the gift will praise thee--If thou doest this deed
for me
Thou shalt find in my love rewarding!' Then he quoth,
'Wheresoe'er it stand,
The tree that shall bring such blessing as reward unto this
mine hand,
If I not in vain bemoan me, but win hearing for this my
grief, 275
Then thy garland, tho' death it bring me, shall lack not a
single leaf!'
And tho' many a blossom bloomed there yet their colour it was
as naught
To the colour of Orgelusé, and Gawain on her beauty thought
Till it seemed him his grief of aforetime and his anguish had
fled away--
And thus with her guest did she journey a space from the Burg
that day, 280
And the road it was straight and easy, and it led thro' a
forest fair,
And Tamris I ween and Prisein were the names that the trees
did bear,
And the lord of the wood was Klingsor--Then Gawain the hero
spake,
'Say, where shall that garland blossom which the spell of my
grief shalt break?'
(In sooth he had best o'erthrown her, as oft shall have
chanced I trow 285
To many a lovely lady.) Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt see the
bough
Whose plucking shall win thee honour!' O'er the field ran a
deep ravine,
And so near did they ride to the chasm that the tree from
afar was seen.
Then she quoth, 'Now, Sir Knight, one guardeth that tree who
my joy hath slain,
If thou bring me a bough from off it, no hero such prize
shall gain 290
As from me shall be thy rewarding! And here must I hold my
way,
Nor further may I ride with thee; but make thou no more
delay,
God have thee in His safe keeping! Thine horse must thou
straightway bring
To the gulf, and with sure hand urge it o'er the Perilous
Ford to spring.'
So still on the plain she held her, and on rode the gallant
knight, 295
And he hearkened the rush of water that had riven a path with
might
Thro' the plain--it was deep as a valley, and no man its
waves might ford;
Then Gawain spurred his steed towards it, and he sprung o'er
the flood so broad,
And yet but the charger's fore-feet might light on the
further side,
And they fell in the foaming torrent; and the lady in anguish
cried, 300
For swift and wide was the water; yet Gawain he had strength
enow,
Tho' heavy the weight of his armour, for he saw where there
grew a bough
That hung o'er the foaming torrent, and he grasped it, for
life was dear,
And he gained on the bank a footing, and he drew from the
waves his spear.
Up and down the stream swam the charger, and Gawain to its
aid would go, 305
Yet so swift was the rush of the water he followed with pain
its flow,
For heavy I ween his harness, and his wounds they were deep
and sore:
Then he stretched out his spear as a whirlpool bare the
charger towards the shore--
For the rain and the rush of the waters had broken a passage
wide,
And the bank at the place was shelving, and the steed swept
towards the side-- 310
And he caught with the spear its bridle, and drew it towards
the land
Till the hero at last might reach it and lay on the rein his
hand.
And Gawain, the gallant hero, drew his horse out upon the
plain,
And the steed shook itself in safety, nor the torrent as
prize might gain
The shield--Then he girt his charger, and the shield on his
arm he took: 315
And if one weepeth not for his sorrow methinks I the lack may
brook,
Tho' in sooth was he in sore peril--For love he the venture
dared,
For the fair face of Orgelusé, his hand to the bough he
bared.
And I wot, 'twas a gallant journey, and the tree it was
guarded well,
He was _one_, were he _twain_, for that garland his life must
the payment tell. 320
King Gramoflanz, he would guard it, yet Gawain he would pluck
the bough.
The water, men called it Sabbins, and the tribute was harsh
enow
That Gawain would fetch when both charger and knight did the
wild waves breast.
Tho' the lady was fair, _I_ had wooed not! To shun her
methinks were best.
When Gawain erst the bough had broken and its leaves in his
helm did wave, 325
Uprode a knight towards him, and his bearing was free and
brave.
Nor too few were his years nor too many; and in this he his
pride had shown,
What evil so e'er befell him he fought not with _one_ alone,
_Two_ or more must they be, his foemen! So high beat his
gallant heart,
That whate'er _one_ might do to harm him unscathed might he
thence depart. 330
To Gawain this son of King Irôt a fair 'good-morrow' gave,
'Twas King Gramoflanz--'To the garland that doth there in
thine helmet wave
I yield not my claim!' thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, were ye
_two_ I trow,
Who here for high honour seeking had reft from my tree a
bough,
I had greeted ye not, but had fought ye, but since thou alone
shalt be, 335
Thou canst ride hence, for strife unequal I deem it a shame
to me!'
And Gawain, too, was loth to fight him, for no armour the
king did wear,
And naught but a yearling falcon he did on his white hand
bear.
(And the sister of Gawain gave it, Itonjé the maid was
hight.)
His headgear in Sinzester fashioned was of peacock's plumage
bright, 340
And green as grass was the mantle of velvet that wrapped him
round,
And with ermine lined, and on each side it swept even unto
the ground.
None too tall yet strong was the charger on which the king
did ride,
From Denmark by land they brought it, or it came o'er the
waters wide.
And the monarch he rode unarmèd, nor even a sword would bear. 345
Quoth King Gramoflanz, 'Thou hast foughten, if thy shield may
the truth declare,
For but little unharmed remaineth, and it seemeth sure to me
That the "Lit Merveil" was thy portion, and this venture hath
fallen to thee!'
'Now hast thou withstood the peril that myself I were fain to
dare,
Had not Klingsor been ever friendly, and warfare with her my
share 350
Who in Love's strife is ever victor, since her beauty doth
win the day;
And she beareth fierce wrath against me, and in sooth hath
she cause alway!
Eidegast have I slain, her husband, and with him I slew
heroes four;
Orgelusé herself, as my captive, I thence to my kingdom bore,
And my crown and my land would I give her, yet what service
my hand might yield, 355
Of all would she naught, but with hatred her heart 'gainst my
pleading steeled.
And a whole year long I held her, and a whole year long I
prayed,
Yet never she hearkened to me, and ever my love gainsaid.
And thus from my heart I bemoan me, since I know that her
love to thee
She hath promised, since here I meet thee, and death wouldst
thou bring to me. 360
If with _her_ thou hadst hither ridden, perchance had I here
been slain,
Or perchance ye had died together--such guerdon thy love
might gain!'
'And my heart other service seeketh, and mine aid lieth in
thine hand,
Since here thou hast been the victor thou art lord o'er this
wonder-land;
And if thou wilt show me kindness help me now a fair maid to
win 365
For whose sake my heart knoweth sorrow, to King Lot is she
near of kin,
And no maiden of all earth's maidens hath wrought me such
grief and pain!
Her token I bear--I prithee, if thou seest that maid again
Swear thou to her faithful service--I think me she means me
fair,
And for her sake I fight, for her favour I many a peril dare; 370
For since with true words Orgelusé her love hath denied to
me,
Wherever for fame I battled, whate'er might my portion be,
Of joy or of grief, _she_ hath caused it, Itonjé, for whom I
fight,
Yet alas! I have ne'er beheld her! Now do me this grace, Sir
Knight,
If aid thou art fain to give me, then take thou this golden
ring, 375
And unto my lovely lady, I prithee, the token bring.
Thou art free from strife, I fight not till thou bring with
thee two or more.
What honour were mine if I slew thee? I ever such strife
forbore!'
'Yet in sooth I can well defend me, as a man should,' quoth
knight Gawain,
'Thou thinkest small fame will it bring thee if I here at
thine hand be slain, 380
But what honour shall _I_ have won me by breaking this bough,
I pray?
For none will account it glory if I slay thee unarmed to-day!
But yet will I do thy message--Give me here the finger-ring,
And thy sorrow of heart, and thy service, I will to thy lady
bring.'
Then the king he thanked him freely--But Gawain he quoth in
this wise, 385
'Now tell me, Sir Knight, who may he be who doth conflict
with me despise?'
'An thou count it me not for dishonour,' quoth the king,
'here my name be told,
King Irôt he was my father, who was slain by King Lot of old.
And King Gramoflanz do men call me, and my heart doth such
valour know
That never, for evil done me, will I fight with but one for
foe, 390
Saving one man alone, hight Gawain, of _him_ have I heard
such fame
That to fight with him I am ready, and vengeance from him I
claim.
For his father he dealt with treason, in fair greeting my
father slew,
Good cause have I here for mine anger and the words that I
speak are true.
Now dead is King Lot, and Gawain, his fame o'er all knights
stands high 395
Of the Table Round, and I yearn still till the day of our
strife draw nigh.'
Then out quoth King Lot's son dauntless, 'Wouldst pleasure
thy lady still,
If indeed she shall be thy lady, and dost speak of her father
ill?
And reckonest to him false treason, and her brother art fain
to slay!
Then indeed must she be false maiden if she mourn not thy
deeds alway! 400
If true daughter she were, and sister, for the twain would
she surely speak,
And forbid thee, methinks, thine hatred on kinsmen so near to
wreak.
If so be that thy true love's father hath broken his troth,
yet thou
Shouldst, as kinsman, avenge the evil that men spake of the
dead, I trow!
His _son_ will not fear to do so, and little methinks he'll
care 405
If small aid in his need he findeth from the love of his
sister fair.
He, himself, will be pledge for his father, and his sin be
upon _my_ head,
For Sir King, I who speak am Gawain, and thou warrest not
with the dead!
But I, from such shame to free him, what honour be mine or
fame,
In strife will I give to the scourging ere thou slander my
father's name!' 410
Quoth the king, 'Art thou he whom I hated with a hatred as
yet unstilled?
For alike with both joy and sorrow thy valour my soul hath
filled.
And _one_ thing in thee doth please me, that at last I may
fight with thee,
And I rede thee to wit that great honour in this hast thou
won from me,
Since I vowed but to fight with thee only--And our fame shall
wax great alway, 415
If many a lovely lady we bring to behold the fray.
For I can bring fifteen hundred, and thou art of a fair host
king
At Château Merveil; and on thy side thine uncle can others
bring
From the land that he rules, King Arthur, and Löver its name
shall be,
And the city is Bems by the Korka, as well shall be known to
thee. 420
There lieth he now with his vassals, and hither can make his
way,
In eight days, with great joy; so I bid thee to meet me the
sixteenth day,
When I come, for my wrong's avenging, to Ioflanz upon the
plain,
And the pay for this garland's plucking I there from thine
hand shall gain!'
Then King Gramoflanz prayed of Gawain to ride unto Rosche
Sabbin, 425
'For nearer methinks than the city no way o'er the flood
thou'lt win!'
But out quoth the gallant Gawain, 'I will back e'en as erst I
came,
But in all else thy will I'll follow.' Then they sware them
by their fair fame
That with many a knight and lady at Ioflanz they'ld meet for
strife
On the chosen day, and alone there would battle for death or
life. 430
And on this wise Gawain he parted for awhile from the noble
knight,
And joyful he turned his bridle, and the bough decked his
helm so bright.
And he checked not his steed, but spurred it to the edge of
the gulf once more,
Nor Gringuljet missed his footing, but he sprang well the
chasm o'er,
And he fell not again, the hero--Then the lady she turned her
rein 435
As he sprang to the ground, and tightened the girths of his
steed again,
And swiftly to give him welcome, I ween, she to earth did
spring,
And low at his feet she cast her, and she spake, 'I such need
did bring
Upon thee, Sir Knight, as I wot well was more than thy worth
might ask,
And yet have I felt such sorrow, for the sorrow of this thy
task, 440
And the service that thou hast done me, as I deem she alone
doth know
Who loveth in truth, and, faithful, doth weep o'er her
lover's woe!'
Then he quoth, 'Is this truth, and thy greeting be not
falsehood in friendly guise,
Then _thyself_ dost thou honour, Lady! For in this shall I be
so wise
That I know a knight's shield claimeth honour, and thou didst
against knighthood sin, 445
For so high doth it stand that from no man methinks doth he
mocking win,
Who as true knight hath ever borne him--This, Lady, I needs
must say,
Whoever had looked upon me had known me for knight alway,
Yet knighthood thou wouldst deny me when first thou my face
didst see,
But henceforth that may rest--Take this garland I won at thy
will for thee, 450
But I bid thee henceforth beware thee that never thy beauty
bright
Shall again in such wise mislead thee to dishonour a gallant
knight,
For I wot, ere such scorn and mocking again at thine hand I
bore,
Thy love thou shouldst give to another, I would ask for it
nevermore!'
Then she spake as she wept full sorely, that lady so sweet
and fair, 455
'Sir Knight, did I tell unto thee the woe that my heart doth
bear,
Thou wouldst own that full sore my sorrow--If I shall
discourteous be,
Then he whom I wrong may forgive me of true heart with
forgiveness free.
For of such joy no man can rob me as the joy that I lost
awhile
In that knight of all knights the bravest, Eidegast, who knew
naught of guile! 460
So brave and so fair my true love, his fame was as sunlight's
ray,
And for honour he strove so truly that all others, in this
his day,
Both here and afar, born of woman, they owned that his praise
stood high
O'er that of all men, and no glory might e'er with his glory
vie.
A fountain, for aye upspringing, of virtue, his gallant
youth, 465
And falsehood ne'er shamed his honour nor darkened the light
of truth.
Into light came he forth from the darkness, and his honour
aloft he bore,
That none who spake word of treason might reach to it
evermore.
From the root in a true heart planted it waxed and it spread
amain,
Till he rose o'er all men as Saturn doth high o'er the
planets reign. 470
And true as the one-horned marvel, since the truth I am fain
to tell,
The knight of my love and desiring,--for whose fate maids may
weep full well,
Thro' its virtue I ween it dieth--And I, I was as his heart,
And my body was he! Ah! woe is me, that I must from such true
love part!
And King Gramoflanz, _he_ slew him, the knight thou but now
didst see, 475
And the bough thou hast brought unto me from the tree of his
ward shall be.'
'Sir Knight, did I ill-entreat thee, I did it for this alone,
I would prove if thine heart were steadfast, and my love
might to thee atone.
I know well my words did wound thee, yet they were but to
prove thee meant,
And I pray thee, of this thy goodness, be thine anger with
pity blent, 480
And forgive me the ill I did thee. I have found thee both
brave and true,
As gold that is tried in the furnace shineth forth from the
flame anew,
So, methinks, doth it shine, thy courage. He, for whose harm
I brought thee here,
As I thought me afore, and I think still, his valour hath
cost me dear.'
Quoth Gawain, 'If awhile death spare me, such lesson I'll
read the king 485
As shall put to his pride an ending, and his life in sore
peril bring.
My faith as a knight have I pledged him, hereafter, a little
space,
To meet him in knightly combat, nor our manhood shall we
disgrace.
And here I forgive thee, Lady, and if thou wilt not disdain
My counsel so rough, I'll tell thee wherewith thou mayst
honour gain, 490
What shall 'seem thee well as a woman, nor in aught shall
unfitting be,
Here we twain are alone, I pray thee show favour and grace to
me!'
But she quoth, 'In an arm thus mail-clad but seldom I warmly
lay;
Yet would I not strive against thee, thou shalt on a fitting
day
Win rewarding for this thy service--Thy sorrow will I bemoan, 495
Till thou of thy wounds art healèd and all thought of thine
ill be flown;
To Château Merveil I'll ride with thee.' 'Now waxeth my joy
indeed!'
Quoth the hero, of love desirous, and he lifted her on her
steed,
And close clung his arm around her: 'twas more than she
deemed him worth
When first by the spring she saw him, and mocked him with
bitter mirth. 500
Then joyful Gawain he rode hence; yet the lady she wept
alway,
And he mourned with her woe, and he prayed her the cause of
her grief to say,
And in God's Name to cease from weeping! Then she quoth, 'I
must mourn, Sir Knight,
Because of the hand that slew him, the knight of my love, in
fight;
For that deed to my heart brought sorrow, tho' I naught but
delight had known 505
When Eidegast's love rejoiced me; yet was I not so o'erthrown
But since then I might seek his mischief, whatever the cost
might be,
And many fierce jousts have been ridden that were aimed at
his life by me.
And here, methinks, canst thou aid me, and avenge me on him,
my foe,
And repay me for this sore sorrow that my heart doth for ever
know.' 510
'For the winning his death I took gladly the service he
proffered me,
A king, who of earthly wishes the master and lord should be,
Sir Knight, he was named Anfortas--As his love-pledge to me
he sent
That which standeth without thy portals, from Tabronit it
came, that tent,
And great I ween is its value--But alas! for that gallant
king, 515
Such reward did he win in my service as all joy to an end
must bring
Where fain I my love had given, there must I fresh sorrow
know,
For bitter indeed was his guerdon!--As great, or e'en
greater, woe
Than the death of Eidegast brought me, was my lot thro'
Anfortas' fate.
Now say, how shall I, of all women most wretched, in this
estate, 520
If my _heart_ yet be true, be other than of senses and mind
distraught,
Yea, at times have I been beside me when I on Anfortas
thought;
After Eidegast did I choose him, my avenger and love to be--
Now hearken and hear how Klingsor won that booth thou
erewhile didst see:
When it fell so the brave Anfortas, who this token had sent
to me, 525
Was of love and of joy forsaken, then I feared lest I shamed
should be;
For Klingsor, such power he wieldeth by the force of his
magic spell,
That maiden or man to his purpose can he force as shall
please him well.
All gallant folk that he seeth, unharmed may they ne'er go
free--
Thus my riches to him I proffered, if so be he sware peace
with me. 530
And he that should brave the venture, and he that should win
the prize,
To _him_ I my love should offer; but if so be that in his
eyes
My love were a thing unworthy, the booth should be mine
again.
But now hast thou done my bidding, and it falleth unto us
twain;
And 'twas sworn in the ears of many, for thereby I hoped to
lure 535
My foe (yet in this I failèd) for the strife he might ne'er
endure.'
'Now courtly and wise is Klingsor; for his honour it pleased
him well
That many a deed of knighthood, at my will, in his land
befell,
By the hand of my valiant servants, with many a thrust and
blow.
All the week, every day as it passes, and the weeks into
years do grow, 540
My troops in their changing order beset him by night and day,
For at great cost my snares so cunning for Gramoflanz did I
lay.
And many have striven with him, yet must him as victor own;
Yet I still for his life am thirsting, and at last shall he
be o'erthrown.
And some were too rich for my payment, and but for my love
would serve, 545
Then I bid them for _that_ do me service, but reward did they
ne'er deserve.'
'And never a man beheld me but his service I swiftly won,
Save _one_, and he bare red armour; to my folk he much ill
had done,
For hither he rode from Logrois, and he there did my knights
o'erthrow
In such wise that they fell before him, and it pleased me but
ill I trow. 550
And, between Logrois and thy meadow, five knights they
followed fair,
And he cast them to earth, and their chargers the boatman
from thence must bear.
Then as he my knights had vanquished, I myself did the hero
pray
For my love and my land to serve me, but naught would that
red knight say,
Save he had a wife who was fairer, and should aye to his
heart be dear. 555
Then wroth was I at his answer, and the name of his wife
would hear:
"Wouldst thou know the name of my chosen?--She reigneth at
Pelrapär,
And _Parzival_ all men call me, and naught for thy love I
care,
Other sorrow the Grail doth give me!" Then in anger he rode
away;
Now, I prithee, here give me counsel, if evil I did that day, 560
When I, by heart-sorrow driven, proffered love to that
gallant knight?
Should I count my fair fame dishonoured?' Quoth Gawain to
that lady bright,
'A gallant knight is he, truly, who thus thy desire hath
crossed,
Had he to thy bidding hearkened no fame thou thro' him hadst
lost!'
Then Gawain, the courteous hero, and the lady his rein
beside, 565
Gazed lovingly on each other--and so far on their way did
ride,
That they drew anear to the castle, where the venture
erewhile befell,
And they who looked forth might see them---'Now, Lady,
'twould please me well
If thou do this thing that I ask thee, from all men my name
withhold,
Which the knight who once stole my charger aloud in thine
hearing told. 570
But do this that I say, if any shall pray thee to tell my
name,
Say, "I know not the name of my true knight, none spake it
when here he came."'
Then she quoth, 'I will keep it secret, since thou wouldst
not 'twere spoken here.'
And the knight and the lovely lady they rode to the Burg
anear.
Now the knights they had heard of the coming of one who, with
valiant hand, 575
Faced the venture, and slew the lion, and the Turkowit dared
withstand,
Yea, and had in fair joust o'erthrown him; and now on the
flowery plain,
The meadow of strife, rode the hero, and they looked on the
knight Gawain,
From the battlements could they see him; and the forces
together draw;
And with ringing blast of trumpet they pass thro' the castle
door, 580
And rich banners on high were tossing, and their steeds o'er
the plain they flew,
And he deemed that they came for battle, so swift they
towards him drew.
As Gawain from afar might see them to the lady he spake
again,
'Do they come here with thought of battle?' But she quoth,
'They are Klingsor's men,
From afar have they seen thy coming, and they ride their new
lord to greet, 585
With joy would they bid thee welcome! Refuse not this honour
meet,
Since 'tis gladness that doth constrain them.' There, too, in
a vessel fair
Plippalinòt came to meet them, and his daughter with him did
bear;
And swift o'er the flowery meadow the maiden towards them
stept,
And joyful she hailed the hero for whom she aforetime wept. 590
Then Gawain gave her courteous greeting, and stirrup and foot
she kissed,
And she turned her to Orgelusé, nor the lady her welcome
missed.
And she prayed him to 'light from his charger the while that
she held the rein,
And then to the ship she led them, the lady and knight
Gawain;
And there, in the place of honour, a carpet and cushions lay, 595
And the Duchess by Gawain sat her, as the maiden the twain
did pray.
And her office the maid forgat not, she disarmèd the hero
there,
And in sooth it is said that the mantle she did for his
robing bear
Which had served him that night for cover, when he did 'neath
her rooftree lie,
And now was the hour for its wearing and it wrapped him right
royally. 600
So clad was Gawain in her mantle, and his own robe beneath he
wore,
And the harness he laid from off him on one side the maiden
bore.
And now as they sat together for the first time the lady fair
Might look on his face and know him--Then unto the twain they
bare
Two game-birds that well were roasted, and with them a flask
of wine, 605
And two cakes did the maiden bring them on a cloth that was
white and fine--
The birds were the prey of the falcon--but Gawain and his
lady bright
Must seek water themselves, if to wash them ere they ate here
should seem them right,
And this did the twain; and joyful was the knight that he now
might eat
With her, for whose sake he would suffer joy, or sorrow, as
seemed her meet. 610
And oft as the cup she gave him that her sweet lips had
touched, anew
Sprang his joy that he thus drank with her, and his sorrow
behind him drew,
And it halted nor might o'ertake him, and his gladness on
swift foot sped,
So fair was her mouth and so rosy her lips that from grief he
fled.
And no longer his wounds they pained him--Then the ladies
from out the tower 615
They looked on the feast, and below them there rode in the
self-same hour,
On the further side of the river, brave knights who would
show their skill.
And the boatman alike and his daughter Gawain thanked with
right goodwill,
Ere yet he might ferry them over, and the lady spake with him
there,
For the food and the drink they had brought them--Then out
quoth the lady fair, 620
'Now what hath that knight befallen, who yestreen, ere I rode
away,
Was o'erthrown in a joust by another? Was he slain, or doth
live alway?'
Quoth the boatman, 'He liveth, Lady, and he spake but this
day with me,
He was given to me for his charger: if thy will be to set him
free,
In his stead will I have the "swallow" that Queen Sekundillé
sent 625
To Anfortas, be thine the hero, with the harp were I well
content!'
'Both the harp and the other riches that the booth may within
it hold,'
Quoth the lady, 'are his who sits here, he may give them, or
aye withhold,
Let him do as he will! If he love me, Lischois he methinks
will loose,
Nor freedom unto the other, my prince, will he here refuse. 630
Florand of Itolac is he, of my night-watch was he the chief,
And as he as Turkowit served me, so his sorrow shall be my
grief!'
Quoth Gawain to his lovely lady, 'Ere it weareth to eventide
Thou shalt look on the twain in freedom!' Then they came to
the further side,
And the Duchess, so fair to look on, he lifted upon her
steed, 635
And many a noble horseman were waiting them on the mead,
And greeting fair they gave them; and they turned to the Burg
again,
And joyful they rode around them and skilful they drew the
rein,
And the Buhurd was fair to look on--What more shall I tell ye
here?
Gawain, and his lovely lady, at the castle they found good
cheer, 640
In such wise did the ladies greet them at Château Merveil
that day,
And good fortune had here befallen that such bliss should be
his alway.
Then Arnivé she straightway led him to a chamber, and they
who knew
Of such lore his hurts they tended, and they bound up his
wounds anew.
Quoth Gawain unto Arnivé, 'Give me, Lady, a messenger!' 645
Then straightway she sent a maiden, and the maid brought
again with her
A footman, both true and manly, as behovèd him well to be.
And an oath did he swear unto Gawain, to serve him right
faithfully,
And, were it for joy or for sorrow, his errand to secret hold
From all men, both there and elsewhere, till he came where it
might be told. 650
Then they brought to him ink and parchment, and Gawain, King
Lot's fair son,
Wrote clear with his hand the message, and thus did the
writing run--
To them who abode in Löver's fair country, King Arthur brave
And his queen, with a faith unstainèd, true service and good
he gave;
And he said, had he fame deservèd, and they would not his
praise were slain, 655
They should come to his aid in his trouble, and show to him
truth again,
And with following of knights and ladies to Ioflanz their way
should wend,
Where he came himself, and his honour would in mortal strife
defend.
And further, this thing he told them, the foemen on either
side
Had pledged themselves in all honour and pomp to the field to
ride; 660
And therefore he, Gawain, prayed them, both lady alike and
knight,
If they bare goodwill towards him, with their king to behold
the fight.
For so should it be to their honour. He commended him to them
all
Who were of his service worthy, for the strife that should
there befall!--
No seal did he put to the letter, yet token enough it bare 665
Of him who should be the writer. Quoth Gawain to the footman
there,
'No longer shalt thou delay thee, the king and the queen
abide
In the city of Bems by the Korka; seek the queen in the
morning-tide
And the thing she shall bid thee, do thou. But this shalt
thou secret hold,
That I in this land am master shall unto no ear be told. 670
Nor of this thing be thou forgetful, that thou shalt my
servant be,
And do thou, without delaying, the errand I give to thee!'
Then the footman from thence he gat him, and Arnivé she
softly went,
And she asked of him what was his errand? and whither his
road was bent?
And he quoth, 'Nay, I may not tell thee, for an oath have I
sworn to-day, 675
God keep thee, for I must ride hence!' To the army he took
his way.
BOOK XIII
KLINGSOR
ARGUMENT
Book XIII. tells of the goodly feast that was holden in Château
Merveil, and of the wedding of Gawain and Orgelusé. How Gawain's
squire
did his bidding; and how King Arthur and Queen Guinevere pledged
themselves to ride to Ioflanz to behold the conflict between
Gawain and
Gramoflanz.
How Gawain fared in Château Merveil; and how Arnivé told him the
history of Klingsor, and of his unlawful love.
Of the coming of King Arthur and his host; how they fought before
Logrois; and came with great pomp to the plain of Ioflanz.
How Gawain and the dwellers in Château Merveil followed to the
plain;
of the goodly camp prepared for them; of the wonder of the court
and
Kay's jealousy; and how the four queens were made known to King
Arthur.
BOOK XIII
KLINGSOR
Then wrathful, I ween, was Arnivé that the messenger said her
Nay,
Nor told her aught of his errand, nor whither his journey
lay.
And in this wise she quoth to the porter, 'Now, whatever the
hour may be,
Be it day, be it night, when he cometh, send tidings thereof
to me,
In secret would I speak with him; thou art wise, as full well
I know!' 5
Yet wroth was she still with the footman--Then she would to
the Duchess go,
And win from her lips the answer, but ready was she of wit,
And the name that he bare, her hero, her mouth spake no word
of it.
Gawain he would have her silent, in her hearing his prayer
found grace,
And she spake not, nor might Arnivé learn aught of his name
and race. 10
Then the sound as of many trumpets thro' the hall of the
palace rang,
And joyful the blasts--Then rich carpets around on each wall
they hang,
And no foot but fell on a carpet would it tread on the palace
floor,
A poor man had surely feared him for the riches that there he
saw.
And many a couch they stood there, around the stately hall, 15
Soft were they as down, and rich cushions they laid upon each
and all.
But Gawain with his toil was wearied, and he slept tho' the
sun was high,
And his wounds, with such skill they bound them, tho' his
love should beside him lie,
And he in his arms should hold her, he had gotten no hurt I
ween.
And sounder his daylight's slumber than his sleep of the
night had been 20
When his love had so sorely vexed him; he slept till the
vesper bell,
Yet still in his sleep he battled for the lady he loved so
well.
Then rich garments of fair silk fashioned, and heavy with
broidered gold,
Did the chamberlain bear unto him--Then out quoth the hero
bold,
'More robes such as these, and as costly, I ween, shalt thou
hither bear, 25
For Gowerzein's Duke shall need them, and Florand, the hero
fair,
For in many a land hath he battled, and hath won for him
glory's meed--
Now see that thou make them ready, and do my behest with
speed!'
Then he prayed, by a squire, the boatman send hither the
captive knight,
And Lischois did he send at his bidding by the hand of his
daughter bright. 30
And the maiden Bené brought him for the love that she bare
Gawain,
And the good that he vowed to her father that morn when she
wept amain,
And the knight he left her weeping, and rode on his toilsome
way--
And the highest prize of his manhood it fell to his lot that
day.
The Turkowit too had come there, and Gawain the twain did
greet 35
In all friendship, and then he prayed them beside him to take
their seat
Till their robes should be brought unto them; and costly they
needs must be,
For never was fairer raiment than the garb of those heroes
three.
For one lived of yore named Sarant, (a city doth bear his
name,)
From out of the land of Triande in the days that are gone he
came. 40
In the land of Queen Sekundillé stood a city so great and
fair,
(E'en Nineveh or Akraton with its glories might scarce
compare,)
And the city, men called it Thasmé; there Sarant won meed of
fame,
Since he wove there a silk with cunning, _Saranthasmé_ should
be its name.
Think ye it was fair to look on? How might it be otherwise, 45
For much gold must he give for the payment who would win to
him such a prize.
Such robes ware these two and Gawain: then they gat them unto
the hall,
And on one side the knights they sat them, on the other the
ladies all,
And he who a woman's beauty had wisdom to judge aright
Must reckon Gawain's fair lady the first of these ladies
bright. 50
And the host and his guests so gallant they gazed on her
radiant glow,
As they stood before Orgelusé; and her knights she again must
know,
And her Turkowit, gallant Florand, and Lischois, the young
and fair,
Were set free, without let or hindrance, for the love that
Gawain must bear
To the lovely lady of Logrois--Then their victor they thanked
amain, 55
Who was dull to all ill, yet had wisdom in all that might
true love gain.
As the captives thus free were spoken, Gawain the four queens
must see
As they stood by the side of the Duchess, and he spake in his
courtesy,
And he bade the two knights go nearer, and with kiss greet
those ladies bright,
The three younger queens, and joyful, I ween, was each
gallant knight. 60
And there was the maiden Bené, with Gawain had she sought the
hall,
And I think me a joyful welcome she found there from each and
all.
Then the host would no longer stand there, and the twain did
he pray to sit
By the maidens, as best should please them, and it grievèd
them not one whit,
Such counsel it grieveth no man! Then the gallant Gawain
spake, 65
'Now which of these maids is Itonjé? Beside her my seat I'ld
take!'
Thus in secret he spake to Bené, and she showed him the
maiden fair,
'She, with eyes so clear and shining, and red lips, and dusky
hair!
Wouldst thou speak with the maid in secret? Then thy words be
wise and few:'
Thus quoth Bené the wise in counsel, who Itonjé's love-tale
knew, 70
And knew that King Gramoflanz loved her, and did service for
her heart's love,
And his faith as a knight unstainèd would fain to the maiden
prove.
Gawain sat him by the maiden, (as I heard so the tale I
tell,)
And soft was his speech and gentle, and his words they
beseemed him well.
And tho' few were the years of Itonjé yet great was her
courtesy, 75
And well did she know how to bear her as a maiden of high
degree.
And this question he asked the maiden, if a lover she aye had
known?
And with wisdom she made him answer, 'To whom might my love
be shown,
For ne'er to a man have I spoken, since the day I first saw
the light,
Save the words which thou now dost hearken as I speak unto
thee, Sir Knight!' 80
'Yet mayst thou have heard the rumour of one who hath bravely
fought,
And striven for prize of knighthood, and with dauntless heart
hath sought
Fair service for fair rewarding?' In such wise spake the
knight Gawain;
But the maiden she quoth, 'Nay, no hero hath striven _my_
love to gain;
Yon lady, the Duchess of Logrois, hath many a gallant knight 85
Who serve her for love, or for payment, and hither they come
to fight,
And we of their jousts are witness, yet none shall have come
so nigh
As _thou_ hast, Sir Knight, and this conflict thy glory hath
raised on high!'
Then he quoth to the lovely maiden, 'Whose pathway shall she
have crossed
With many a chosen hero? Say, who hath her favour lost?' 90
'That, Sir Knight, hath the valiant monarch, King Gramoflanz,
he who bore
From aforetime the crown of honour; so men say, and _I_ know
no more!'
Quoth Gawain, 'Thou shalt know more of him, since he draweth
the prize anear,
And with steadfast heart doth he seek it; from his lips I
this tale did hear--
Of true heart would he do thee service, if such service shall
be thy will, 95
And help at thine hand he seeketh that thy love may his
torment still.
It is well that a king face peril, if his lady shall be a
queen,
And _thou_ art the maid whom he loveth, if King Lot hath thy
father been;
Thou art she for whom his heart weepeth, if thy name shall
Itonjé be,
And sorrow of heart dost thou give him--By my mouth would he
plead with thee.' 100
'Now if thou be true and faithful of his woe wilt thou make
an end,
And _both_ would I serve right gladly--This ring he to thee
doth send,
I prithee to take it, Lady! In sooth do I mean thee well,
And if thou wilt trust unto me no word of the tale I'll
tell!'
Then crimson she blushed, the maiden, and e'en as her lips
were red 105
So red grew her cheek, yet the blushes as they came so they
swiftly sped.
And she stretched forth her hand so shyly toward the little
ring of gold,
For e'en at a glance she knew it, and her hand did the token
hold.
Then she spake, 'Now, Sir Knight, I see well, if I freely to
thee may speak,
That thou comest from him, whom, desiring, my heart doth for
ever seek. 110
My words shalt thou still hold secret, as courtesy biddeth
thee,
This ring have I seen aforetime, for it oft hath been sent to
me;
From the hand of the king it cometh, and I know it for token
true,
From my hand did he first receive it. What sorrow so e'er he
knew,
Of that do I hold me guiltless; what he asked, that in
thought I gave, 115
Had we met I had ne'er withholden the boon he from me did
crave.'
'This day have I kissed Orgelusé, who thinketh his death to
win,
I ween 'twas the kiss of Judas which all men count to him for
sin!
And honour and faith forsook me, when the Turkowit, brave
Florand,
And Gowerzein's Duke, fair Lischois, I kissed here at thy
command. 120
From my heart I might not forgive them, for my true love they
hate alway--
But speak thou no word to my mother.' Thus the maiden Gawain
did pray.
'Sir Knight, it was _thou_ didst pray me to take from their
lips this kiss,
Tho' no will for forgiveness had I, and my heart sickeneth
sore for this!
If joy shall be e'er our portion, our help in thine hand
shall be, 125
And I know well, above all women, the king he desireth me;
And his will shall he have, for I love him o'er all men on
earth that live--
God send thee good help and good counsel, that joy thou to us
mayst give!'
Quoth Gawain, 'How may that be, Lady? He beareth thee in his
heart,
And in thine dost thou ever hold him, and yet are ye twain
apart. 130
If I knew how to give thee counsel that ye twain might in
gladness dwell,
Of a sooth no pains would I spare me such rede unto thee to
tell.'
Then she quoth, 'Yet in truth shalt thou rule us, myself, and
my gallant king,
And naught but thy help and God's blessing our love to its
goal may bring,
So that I, poor homeless maiden, his sorrow may put away, 135
For his joy shall be set upon me! If so be I from truth ne'er
stray,
What other can I desire here, or for what shall my true heart
yearn,
Save to give him the love he asketh, and his grief unto
gladness turn?'
Gawain, he saw well that the maiden would fain to her love
belong,
Yet her hatred towards the Duchess as aforetime was fierce
and strong; 140
Thus hatred and love did she bear here, and wrong had he done
the maid
Who thus, of a true heart simply, her plaint had before him
laid.
Since never a word had he told her how one mother had borne
them both,
And King Lot he had been their father--Then he answered her,
little loth,
He would do what he might to aid her, and in secret with
gracious word 145
She thanked him who brought her comfort, and her sorrow with
kindness heard.
Now the hour it was come, and they brought there for the
tables fair linen white,
And bread did they bear to the palace unto many a lady
bright,
And there might ye see a severance, for the knights they sat
by one wall,
Apart from the maids; and their places Gawain gave to each
and all. 150
And the Turkowit sat beside him, and Lischois ate with
Sangivé,
(And that fair queen was Gawain's mother,) and Orgelusé by
Arnivé.
And Gawain set his lovely sister by his side at that festal
board,
And all did as he bade them gladly, for he was that castle's
lord.
My skill not the half doth tell me, no such master-cook am I, 155
That I know the name of the viands they offered them
courteously;
The host, and each one of the ladies, their servers were
maidens fair,
To the knights who sat over against them many squires did
their portion bear.
For this was the seemly custom, that no squire, in his
serving haste,
Brushed roughly against a maiden, but ever apart they paced-- 160
And whether 'twas wine, or 'twas viands, they offered unto
the guests,
In naught was their courtesy harmèd, for so did men deem it
best.
And a feast they to-day must look on such as no man before
had seen,
Since vanquished by Klingsor's magic both lady and knight had
been.
Unknown were they yet to each other, tho' one portal it shut
them in, 165
And never a man and a maiden might speech of each other win;
And a good thing Gawain he thought it that this folk should
each other meet,
And much he rejoiced in their gladness, and his own lot it
seemed him sweet;
Yet ever he looked in secret on his lady and love so fair,
And his heart it waxed hot within him, and love's anguish he
needs must bear. 170
But the day drew near to its closing, and faint waxed the
waning light,
And fair thro' the clouds of heaven gleamed the messengers of
the night,
Many stars so bright and golden, who speed on their silent
way
When the night would seek for shelter in the realm of
departing day;
And after her standard-bearers, with her host doth she
swiftly tread-- 175
Now many a fair crown golden in the palace hung high
o'erhead,
And with tapers they all were lighted around the stately
hall,
And they bare unto every table a host of tapers tall;
And yet the story telleth that the Duchess she was so fair,
That ne'er was it night in her presence tho' never a torch
were there! 180
For her glance was so bright and radiant it brought of itself
the day;
And this tale of fair Orgelusé full oft have I heard men say.
He had spoken, methinks, untruly who said that he e'er had
seen
A host so rich and joyous, and joyous his guests, I ween;
And ever with eager gladness each knight and each gentle maid 185
Looked well on each other's faces, nor shrank from the glance
afraid.
If friendship they here desirèd, or each other would better
know,
Then naught of their joy would I grudge them, methinks it
were better so!
Tho' I wot well there none was a glutton, yet still had they
ate their fill,
And they bare on one side the tables, and Gawain asked, with
right goodwill, 190
If here there should be a fiddler? and many a gallant squire
Was skilled on the strings, and gladly would play at the
host's desire,
Yet were they not all too skilful, and the dances were old
alway,
Not new, as in fair Thuringia the dances they know to-day.
Then they thanked their host who, joyful, would give to their
joy its vent, 195
And many a lovely lady in his presence danced well content,
For goodly their dance to look on, and their ranks, with many
a pair
Of knight and lady, mingled, and grief fled from their faces
fair.
And oft 'twixt two gentle maidens might be seen a noble
knight,
And they who looked well upon them in their faces might read
delight. 200
And whatever knight bethought him, and would of his lady pray
Reward, if for love he served her, none said to his pleading
Nay.
Thus they who were poor in sorrow, and rich in joy's fairest
dower,
With sweet words, by sweet lips spoken, made gladsome the
passing hour.
Gawain and the Queen Arnivé, and Sangivé, the dance so fleet 205
Would look on in peace, for they danced not; then the Duchess
she took her seat
By the side of Gawain, and her white hand he held in his own
a while,
And they spake of this thing and the other, with many a
glance and smile;
He rejoiced that she thus had sought him, and his grief it
waxed small and faint,
And his joy it grew strong and mighty, nor vexed him with
sorrow's plaint. 210
And great was the joy of the lady o'er the dance, and the
merry feast,
Yet less was the sorrow of Gawain, and his joy o'er her joy
increased.
Then spake the old Queen Arnivé, 'Sir Knight, now methinks
'twere best
That thou get thee to bed, for sorely, I ween, shall thy
wounds need rest
Has the Duchess perchance bethought her to care for thy couch
this night, 215
And tend thee herself, with such counsel and deed as shall
seem her right?'
Quoth Gawain, 'That thyself mayst ask her; I will do as shall
please ye twain!'
Then the Duchess she spake in answer, 'He shall in my charge
remain.
Let this folk to their couch betake them, I will tend in such
sort his rest
That never a loving lady dealt better by gallant guest; 220
And the other twain, my princes, in the care of the knights
shall be,
Florand, and the Duke of Gowerzein, for so seemeth it good to
me.'
In short space the dance was ended, and the maidens in beauty
bright
Sat here and there, and between them sat many a gallant
knight;
And joy took her revenge on sorrow, and he who so sweetly
spake 225
Words of love, from his gentle lady must a gracious answer
take.
Then the host must they hear, as he bade them the cup to the
hall to bear,
And the wooers bemoaned his bidding; yet the host he wooed
with them here,
And he bare of his love the burden, and the sitting he deemed
too long,
For his heart by love's power was tortured with anguish so
fierce and strong. 230
And they drank the night-drink, and sadly to each other they
bade goodnight,
And the squires they must bear before them full many a taper
bright.
And the two gallant guests did Gawain commend to them each
and all,
And glad were the knights, and the heroes they led forth from
out the hall.
And the Duchess, with gracious kindness, wished fair rest to
the princes twain, 235
And then to their sleeping chambers forth wended the maiden
train,
And as their fair breeding bade them, at the parting they
curtseyed low:
Queen Sangivé and her fair daughters they too to their rest
would go.
Then Bené, the maid, and Arnivé, they wrought with a willing
hand
That the host he might sleep in comfort, nor the Duchess
aside did stand, 240
But she aided the twain, and Gawain was led of the helpers
three
To a chamber fair where his slumber that even should joyful
be.
Two couches alone did he see there, but no man to me hath
told
Of their decking, for other matters, I ween, doth this story
hold.
Quoth Arnivé unto the Duchess, 'Now, Lady, think thou how
best 245
This knight whom thou broughtest hither, shall beneath this
roof-tree rest,
If aid at thine hand he craveth, to grant it shall honour
thee;
No more would I say, save this only, his wounds they shall
bandaged be
With such skill he might bear his armour--But if he bemoan
his grief
Then methinks it were good and fitting that thou bring to his
woe relief. 250
If thou wakest anew his courage, then we all in his gladness
share--
Now think thou no ill of my counsel, but have for thy knight
good care!'
Then the Queen Arnivé left them, (yet leave had she craved
before,)
And Bené she bare the taper, and Gawain he made fast the
door.
If the twain to their love gave hearing? The tale how should
I withhold, 255
I would speak, were it not unseemly that love's secrets aloud
be told,
For courtesy doth forbid it; and he who would tell the tale
Worketh ill to himself, o'er love's dealings true hands ever
draw the veil.
Now betwixt his love and his lady had the joy of Gawain waxed
small,
An the Duchess would have no pity, then healing might ne'er
befall. 260
They who sat in the seat of the wise men, and knew many a
mystic word,
Kancor, and Thèbit, and Trebuchet, the smith who Frimutel's
sword
Once wrought, ('twas a wondrous weapon, and men of its
marvels tell)--
Nay, all the skill of physicians, tho' they meant to the hero
well
And plied him with roots well mingled--Had a _woman_ ne'er
sought his side, 265
Then vain were their skill, in his torment methinks had he
surely died!
Fain would I make short the story, he the rightful root had
found
That helped him unto his healing, and the chain of his grief
unbound,
And brought light in the midst of his darkness--(Breton by
his mother's side
Was Gawain, and King Lot his father) thus the healing task he
plied, 270
And sweet balsam for bitter sorrow was his lot till the dawn
of day.
Yet that which had wrought him comfort it was hid from the
folk alway,
But all there, both knights and ladies, they beheld him so
gay and glad
That their sorrow was put far from them and their heart was
no longer sad.
Now list how he did the message whom Gawain he had sent afar, 275
Yea unto the land of Löver, unto Bems by the fair Korka,
For there he abode, King Arthur, and his lady, the gracious
queen,
With fair maids and a host of vassals; this the lot of the
squire had been.
'Twas yet in the early morning, when his message he fain had
brought,
And the queen, in the chapel kneeling, on the page of her
psalter thought; 280
Then the squire bent his knee before her, and he gave her a
token fair,
For she took from his hand a letter, and the cover must
writing bear
That was writ by a hand she knew well, ere yet she the name
might know,
From the squire, of him who had sent him, as she looked on
him kneeling low.
Then the queen she spake to the letter, 'Now blessed that
hand shall be 285
That wrote thee; for care was my portion since the day that
mine eyes might see
The hand that hath writ this writing'--She wept, yet for joy
was fain,
And she quoth to the squire, 'Of a surety thy master shall be
Gawain!'
'Yea, Lady, he truly offers true service as aye of yore,
With never a thought of wavering, yet his joy it shall suffer
sore, 290
If so be thou wilt not upraise it; and never it stood so ill
With his honour as now it standeth--And more would he tell
thee still,
In joy shall he live henceforward if comfort he gain from
thee;
And I wot that yet more shall be written than what thou hast
heard from me.'
Then she quoth, 'I have truly read there the cause that hath
brought thee here, 295
And service I think to do him with many a woman dear,
Who to-day shall I ween be reckoned to have won to them
beauty's prize--
Save Parzival's wife and another, Orgelusé, in all men's
eyes,
Thro' Christendom none shall be fairer--Since far from King
Arthur's court
Gawain rode, sore grief and sorrow have made of my life their
sport. 300
And Meljanz de Lys hath told me he saw him in Barbigöl--
Alas!' quoth the queen, 'that ever mine eyes saw thee,
Plimizöl!
What sorrow did there befall me! Since that day might I never
greet
Kunnewaare of Lalande, she hath left me, my friend and
companion sweet.
And the right of the good Round Table was broken by words of
scorn, 305
And four years and a half and six weeks have left us, I ween,
forlorn,
Since the Grail Parzival rode seeking; and after him rode
Gawain
To Askalon--Nor Jeschuté nor Hekuba come again
Since the day that they parted from me, and grief for my
friends so true
Hath driven my peace far from me, nor joy since that day I
knew!' 310
And the queen spake much of her sorrow: then the squire would
her counsel know,
'Now do thou in this my bidding, in secret thou hence shalt
go,
And wait till the sun be higher, and the folk all at court
shall be,
Knights, servants, and gentle ladies, and vassals of all
degree;
And then to the court ride swiftly, nor think who shall hold
thy steed, 315
But spring from its back, and hasten where the king shall thy
coming heed.
They will ask of thee news of venture, but thou, do thou act
and speak
As one who from peril flieth, whom the flames would devouring
seek,
And they may not prevail to hold thee, nor win from thy lips
the tale,
But press thou thro' them to the monarch, and to greet thee
he will not fail. 320
Then give to his hand the letter, and swiftly from it he'll
read
Thy tale, and thy lord's desiring; I doubt not the prayer
he'll heed!'
'And this will I further rede thee, make thou thy request to
me
Where I sit, and, amid my ladies, thy dealings may hear and
see;
And beseech us, as well thou knowest, for thy lord wouldst
thou hearing gain. 325
But say, for as yet I know not, where abideth the knight
Gawain?'
'Nay,' quoth the squire, 'I may not, ask not where my lord
doth dwell,
But think, an thou wilt, that good fortune is his, and he
fareth well!'
Then glad was the squire of her counsel, and he took from the
queen his way
In such wise as ye here have hearkened, and he came, e'en as
she did say. 330
For e'en at the hour of noontide, not in secret but openly
He came to the court, and the courtiers his garments eyed
curiously,
And they thought that they well beseemed him, and were such
as a squire should wear,
And his horse on each flank was wounded, where the spurs they
had smitten fair.
And, e'en as the queen had taught him, he sprang straightway
unto the ground, 335
And a crowd of eager courtiers pressed, thronging, his steed
around.
Mantle, sword, and spurs, e'en his charger might be lost, he
would little care
But he gat thro' the crowd to the heroes, and the knights
they besought him there,
Brought he news of some gallant venture? For the custom was
aye of yore,
That they ate not, nor man nor maiden, save unto the court
they bore 340
The news of some deed of knighthood, and the court might
claim its right,
If so be 'twas a worthy venture, and one that beseemed a
knight.
Quoth the squire, 'Nay, I naught may tell ye, for my haste
doth not brook delay,
Of your courtesy then forgive me, and lead to the king the
way,
For 'tis meet that I first speak with him, and mine haste it
doth work me ill; 345
But my tale shall ye hear, and God teach ye to aid me with
right goodwill!'
And so did his message urge him he thought not on the
thronging crowd,
Till the eyes of the king beheld him, and greeting he spake
aloud.
Then he gave to his hand the letter that bade to King
Arthur's heart,
As he read it, two guests, joy and sorrow, alike there the
twain had part 350
And he spake, 'Hail! the fair day's dawning, by whose light I
have read this word,
And of thee, O son of my sister, true tidings at last have
heard!
If in manhood I may but serve thee as kinsman and friend, if
faith
Ever ruled my heart, 'twill be open to the word that Sir
Gawain saith!'
Then he spake to the squire, 'Now tell me if Sir Gawain be
glad at heart?' 355
'Yea, sire, at thy will, with the joyful I ween shall he have
his part,'
(And thus quoth the squire in his wisdom,) 'yet his honour he
sure shall lose,
And no man fresh joy may give him, if thine aid thou shalt
here refuse.
At thy succour his gladness waxeth, and from out of dark
sorrow's door
Shall grief from his heart be banished, if thou hearken his
need so sore. 360
As of yore doth he offer service to the queen, and it is his
will
That the knights of the good Round Table as their comrade
account him still,
And think on their faith, nor let him be 'spoiled of his
honour's meed,
But pray thee his cry to hearken, and make to his aid good
speed!'
Quoth King Arthur, 'Dear friend and comrade, bear this letter
unto the queen, 365
Let her read therein, and tell us why our portion hath
twofold been,
And at one while we joy and we sorrow. How King Gramoflanz is
fain
In the pride of his heart, and his malice, to work ill to my
knight, Gawain;
He thinketh for sure that my nephew shall be Eidegast, whom
he slew,
Thence grief hath he won; deeper sorrow I'ld teach him, and
customs new!' 370
Then the squire he would pass where a welcome so kindly he
did receive,
And he gave to the queen the letter, and many an eye must
grieve,
And with crystal tears run over, as with sweet lips she read
so clear
The words that within were written, and the need of Gawain
they hear,
And his prayer did she read before them; nor long would the
squire delay 375
With skill to entreat the ladies, and aid at their hand to
pray.
King Arthur, Sir Gawain's uncle, he wrought with a hearty
will
That his vassals might take the journey: nor did she abide
her still,
Guinevere, the wise and the courteous, for she prayed them
make no delay,
Her ladies, but bravely deck them, and get on their stately
way. 380
Quoth Kay aloud in his anger, 'If ever I dared believe
That so gallant a man as Gawain of Norway on earth should
live
I would cry to him, "Come thou nearer!" Fetch him swift, else
he swift will go,
As a squirrel away he flasheth, and is lost ere his place ye
know!'
To the queen quoth the squire, 'Now, Lady, my lord must I
swiftly seek, 385
His cause do I leave to thine honour!' To her chamberlain did
she speak,
'See thou that this squire doth rest well, and look well unto
his steed,
Is it hewn with spurs, find another, the best that shall
serve his need.
And what else beside shall fail him, for his dress, or lest
pledge he lose,
Make ready as he shall ask thee, and naught unto him refuse!' 390
And she quoth, 'Thou shalt say unto Gawain, I am ever to
serve him fain,
Thy leave from the king will I care for, he greeteth thy lord
again!'
Thus the king he was fain for the journey; and the feast it
might now be served,
Since the right of the good Round Table by this venture was
well observed;
And joy in their hearts awakened, since this gallant knight
Gawain 395
Should be yet in life, and true tidings they might of his
welfare gain.
And the knights of that noble order, that even were glad at
heart,
And there sat the king, and those others who had in the ring
their part,
And they sat and they ate with their monarch who fame by
their strife had won,
And the news of this gallant venture wrought joy to them
every one. 400
Now the squire might betake him homewards, since his errand
so well had sped,
He gat forth at the early dawning, ere the sun should be high
o'erhead,
And the queen's chamberlain he gave him a charger, and robes
beside,
And gold lest his pledge be forfeit, and glad on his way he
hied,
For had he not won from King Arthur what should end his
lord's sorrow sore? 405
And I know not the days of his journey, but in safety he came
once more
To Château Merveil; then joyful was Arnivé, for as she bade
The porter bare news of his coming, how his steed he no whit
had stayed,
But swiftly had done his errand. Then in secret she made her
way
To where by the castle drawbridge the squire did his charger
stay, 410
And she asked him much of his journey, and why he in haste
must ride?
Quoth the squire, ''Tis forbidden, Lady! my errand I needs
must hide,
An oath have I sworn of silence, and my lord he might well be
wroth
If to thee I should tell the tidings, for so should I break
mine oath,
And a fool would he surely hold me! Ask himself what thou
fain wouldst learn!' 415
Yet she strove still with many a question from his purpose
the squire to turn,
Then weary was he of her pleading, and in anger this word he
spake,
'Without cause dost thou here delay me, for I think not mine
oath to break!'
So he went where he found his master, and the Turkowit brave
Florand,
And Lischois, and the lady of Logrois, many ladies did with
them stand, 420
And the squire made his way to his master, and up stood the
knight Gawain,
And he took him aside, and welcome he bade him in joyful
strain,
'Now tell unto me, my comrade, the tidings thou here hast
brought,
If thy news be for joy or for sorrow, what speak they of me
at court?'
'And say, didst thou find King Arthur?' quoth the squire, 'My
master, yea, 425
The king, and the queen, and with them many brave knights I
saw alway,
And they offer to thee their service, and they will at thy
bidding come,
And they heard in such sort thy message, with such gladness,
that every one,
Rich and poor, as one man were joyful when I spake, thou wert
safe and well.
And the folk there were sure a marvel! Their number I may not
tell! 430
And the Table Round, by thy message, was spread for the feast
I ween;
And if knight e'er won fame by his valour, then I wot that
thy fame hath been
Far greater than all who hearkened to the words that I spake
of thee,
And it beareth the crown o'er all others, tho' mighty their
fame shall be!'
Then he told him all that befell there, how he spake with the
gracious queen, 435
And the counsel she gave unto him; and how he the folk had
seen,
Those brave knights and gentle ladies; how Gawain should
behold their face
At Ioflanz, before the combat, and the end of his day of
grace.
And the sorrow of Gawain vanished, yet his joy in his heart
he'ld hide,
Tho' from grief did he pass to gladness; yet the squire must
his oath abide 440
And yet for a space keep silence--Forgotten was all his care,
And thither he went, and he sat him again by his lady fair,
And with joy he abode in the castle till King Arthur to his
relief
Might come with his host--Now hearken to a story of love and
grief:
Gawain he was ever joyful; one morn did it so befall 445
That many a knight and lady were seen in that stately hall,
And Gawain sat apart in a window, and looked o'er the stream
so wide,
And with many a tale of wonder sat Arnivé the knight beside.
To the queen spake the gallant hero, 'Ah! hearken, my Lady
dear,
If my questions they shall not vex thee, do thou to my words
give ear 450
And tell me the wondrous story, which as yet shall be hid
from me--
That I live, and my life is joyful, I owe it to none but
thee;
Tho' my heart had the wit of manhood, yet the Duchess she
held it fast,
But thou in such wise hast helped me that my sorrow is
overpast;
Of my love, and my wounds had I died here, but with wisdom
thy helpful hand 455
Thou didst stretch to my aid, and hast loosed me for aye from
my sorrow's band.
I owe thee my life! My Lady of healing, now tell to me
The wonder that was, and the marvel that yet in this place
shall be.
Say, wherefore by mighty magic hath Klingsor this palace
made?
For surely my life had I lost here had thy wisdom not been
mine aid!' 460
Then out quoth the wise Arnivé, (and ne'er with such goodly
fame
Of womanly faith and wisdom fair youth unto old age came,)
'Sir Knight, these are but small marvels to the marvels his
cunning hand,
And his skill in hidden magic, have wrought in full many a
land.
He who counteth it shame unto us that into his power we fell, 465
He sinneth for sure! His doings, Sir Knight, I to thee will
tell.
Many folk, I ween, hath he troubled, his land is Terre de
Labûr:
From a wondrous race he springeth, whose marvels they aye
endure,
For Virgil was his forefather, in Naples his spells he
wrought:
And in this wise his nephew Klingsor was to shame and to
sorrow brought;' 470
'And the chief of his towns was Capua--such high fame was
his, I ween,
That never in praise or in honour methinks had he shamèd
been,
And all folk they spake of Duke Klingsor, and praised him,
both man and maid,
Till in this wise he won dishonour, and his glory to earth
was laid.
In Sicily reigned a monarch, King Ibert, his life was blest 475
With a fair wife, Iblis, none fairer e'er hung on a mother's
breast,
And Klingsor would do her service, till her love should be
his reward,
And in shame did he win his guerdon from the hand of her
rightful lord.'
'If here I must tell his secret, forgiveness I first must
pray,
For methinks it shall be a story that scarce fitteth my lips
to say; 480
With a stroke was he made magician, with the self-same stroke
unmanned'--
Then loudly he laughed, Sir Gawain, as the tale he must
understand.
'In Kalot Enbolot's castle he won him this lasting shame,
(I trow 'tis a mighty fortress, and far lands shall know its
fame,)
With his wife did the monarch find him, there lay Klingsor
within her arm, 485
And sorely must he repent him of his slumber so soft and
warm,
For the hand of the king avenged him in such wise as he
deemed his right;
And he left with his knife such token of shame on the traitor
knight
That henceforward the love of woman it rejoiceth him never
more!
And I wot well for his dishonour many folk shall have
suffered sore.' 490
'('Tis not in the land of Persia) in a city called Persida
Were magic spells first woven; it stands in a land afar,
And thither did Klingsor journey, and there did he learn such
skill,
That with secrets of magic cunning he worketh whate'er he
will.
For the ill that was wrought his body he beareth goodwill to
none, 495
But rejoiceth to work them evil, the more if they fame have
won.'
'E'en such peril beset one monarch--Irôt was, I ween, his
name,
And Rosch-Sabbins was his kingdom--At length to such pass he
came,
That he bade him to take of that country what he would, so he
peace would keep;
Then Klingsor he took of the monarch this mountain so high
and steep, 500
And the land for eight miles around it; on the summit did
Klingsor rear
The wonder-work thou seest, and this palace we look on here.
And there faileth nor worldly riches, nor marvel of magic
skill,
If for thirty years one besieged it, methinks 'twere
provisioned still.
And power doth he hold o'er all spirits, 'twixt the earth and
the heaven above, 505
Both evil and good, save those only whom God doth from his
power remove.'
'Sir Knight, since thy deadly peril thou hast passed, nor thy
death hast found,
He gives to thine hand his kingdom, this Burg, and the lands
around,
No claim doth he make upon it; and peace doth he promise
thee--
This he sware in the ears of his people, and a man of his
word is he, 510
That the knight who withstood the venture, this gift should
be his for aye.
And all who from Christendom's countries 'neath the spell of
his magic lay,
Be they woman, or man, or maiden, are thy vassals both one
and all,
And many from lands of paynim with us 'neath his power must
fall.
Let this folk then now get them homewards, where yet for our
loss they mourn, 515
For to dwell in the land of the stranger, it maketh my heart
forlorn
And He, who the stars hath counted, may He teach thee to give
us aid,
And turn once again to rejoicing those hearts that are sore
afraid!'
'A child was born of a mother, who its mother's mother shall
be;
For the ice it came of the water; when the sunlight shineth
free, 520
Then nothing I ween shall hinder that water from ice be
born--
Of my glad youth I often think me, tho' now I must weep
forlorn,
If my lot shall once more be joyful then the child from the
child shall spring.
And thou, art thou wise and courteous, methinks well mayst
work this thing!'
''Tis long since all joy forsook me! The skiff 'neath its
sail flies fast, 525
But the man who doth sail within it hath swifter his voyage
o'erpast.
If thou readest aright my riddle thy fame shall wax high and
fleet,
For our joy canst thou make to blossom, and our song to ring
clear and sweet.
And, bringers of joy, shall we journey into many a distant
land,
Where the folk weep sore for our losing, and shall greet us
with outstretched hand!' 530
'Of joy had I once full measure: a crownèd queen was I!
And my daughter amid her princes bare a crown too right
royally,
And all men they deemed us worthy--Sir Knight, I wrought ill
to none,
But alike, both man and maiden, from my hand due guerdon won.
And all men they knew, and they owned me one fit o'er the
folk to reign, 535
For I, so God gave me wisdom, ne'er brought to another pain.
Yet she who in gladness dwelleth, tho' a fair praise she
think to earn,
And the prayer of the poor she hearken, yet her joy to such
grief may turn
That a poor lad may make her joyful--Sir Knight, here
o'erlong I stay,
Yet there cometh no man who doth know me, and turneth my care
away!' 540
Then out quoth the gallant hero, 'Lady, if life be mine,
Then gladness shall be thy portion, nor shalt thou in exile
pine!'
Now this self-same day brought the coming of Arthur the
Breton king,
The son of the sad Arnivé, whom kinship and faith did bring;
And many a fair new banner Gawain from the castle saw, 545
And the field it was thick with the horsemen who near at his
summons draw.
On the road that wound hence from Logrois came many a
blazoned spear,
And Gawain, he was glad at their coming; for delay it oft
teacheth fear,
Who waiteth o'erlong for succour, he doubteth 'twill come too
late!
From such doubt had King Arthur freed him! Ah me! how he rode
in state! 550
Gawain, he would hold it secret, yet his eyes they were fain
to weep,
Little good had they been for cisterns, since the water they
failed to keep.
And for love must he weep, for Arthur such love had toward
him shown,
He had cherished him from his childhood, and had dealt with
him as his own;
And the twain they had never wavered, but their faith to each
other kept, 555
And nor falsehood nor thought of doubting betwixt their two
hearts had crept.
But Arnivé was 'ware of his weeping, and quoth, 'Now shalt
thou begin
To joy with the shout of rejoicing, thus comfort we all shall
win.
'Gainst sorrow shouldst thou defend thee--See the host that
now draweth nigh,
Methinks 'tis the Duchess' army, with their coming shall joy
wax high.' 560
Now many a tent and banner they saw wind across the plain,
But _one_ shield did they bear before them, and Arnivé beheld
again,
And she knew, as of yore, the blazon, and Isayé she called
the name
Of the knight, he should be king's marshal, and Uther
Pendragon came!
But the shield it was borne by another, graceful of limb and
tall, 565
And she said, 'He shall be _queen's_ marshal, and _Maurin_
his name they call.'
But little she knew, Arnivé, that dead were both king and
knight,
And Maurin, he held the office that afore was his father's
right.
To the bank in the meadow of conflict rode the host--They who
served the queen
Found a resting-place for the ladies, and a fair camp it was
I ween. 570
By the side of a swift, clear streamlet they set up the tents
so fair,
And, apart, many goodly circles for the king and his knights
prepare.
And methinks they had left behind them, wherever the host
must ride,
A mighty track of hoof-prints on the field and the roadways
wide!
Gawain, by the mouth of Bené, his host Plippalinòt prayed 575
To hold vessel and boat in safe keeping that no crossing that
day be made.
And the maid from the hand of Gawain took the first gift of
his rich store,
'Twas a swallow, the harp was costly, such as harpers in
England bore.
Then joyful, she sought her father, and Gawain, he gave
command
To shut fast the outer portals, since a host at the gate did
stand; 580
And old and young they listed the word that he courteous
spake:
'On the further side of the river an army its camp doth make,
And never, by land or by water, a mightier host I saw,
Would they fight, then I pray ye help me my knighthood to
prove once more!'
With one voice did they make the promise--Then they asked of
the Duchess fair, 585
If the host should be hers? But she answered, 'Believe me, of
all men there
I know neither shield nor bearer; perchance he who wrought me
ill
Hath entered my land, and thought him to bow Logrois unto his
will.
He hath found it right well defended! My people might well
defy,
From their tower and their battlements lofty, e'en such army
as here doth lie! 590
Hath he wrought there fresh deeds of knighthood, then King
Gramoflanz sure hath thought
To revenge himself for the garland that my knight from his
tree hath brought.
But whoever they be, I know well, they shall many a joust
have seen,
And many a spear at Logrois by mine army hath splintered
been.'
And never a lie had she spoken--For Arthur must peril face 595
As he rode thro' the land of Logrois; and many of Breton race
In knightly joust had fallen--But Arthur their ill repaid
In the self-same coin, and on both sides sore stress on the
host was laid.
Battle-weary, so came they hither of whom one full oft must
hear
That they sold their lives full dearly, and did never a
foeman fear. 600
And either side had suffered, both Garel and Gaherjet,
King Meljanz of Lys, and Iofreit, son of Idol, in durance set
Ere even the end of the Tourney--From Logrois they captive
bare
The Duke of Vermandois, Friam, and Count Richard, he of
Nevers,
Who naught but one spear had needed ere he against whom he
rode 605
Had fallen 'neath his stroke so mighty, and no man his joust
abode.
With his own hand King Arthur made him his captive, this
gallant knight;
Then, dauntless, they spurred them onward, and the armies
they met in fight,
And a forest, methinks, it cost them! For no man the jousts
might know
That were ridden, a rain of splinters fell thick at each
mighty blow; 610
And the Bretons, they bore them bravely 'gainst the Lady of
Logrois' host,
And Arthur himself the rear-guard would keep at sore
conflict's cost.
And in this wise they fought and they vexed them through the
hours of the livelong day,
Till the greater part of the army outwearied with conflict
lay.
And well might Gawain have told her, the Duchess, that to his
aid 615
They had ridden her land, then, I wot well, no strife had
their way delayed,
But he would that no lips should tell her till her own eye
the truth had seen--
Then he dealt as should well befit him had King Arthur his
foeman been,
And made ready to march against him with rich tents and
warlike gear.
And no man of them all repented that he came as a stranger
here, 620
For with open hand Sir Gawain his gifts upon all did shower
In such wise that ye might have deemed well he drew nigh to
his dying hour.
And servant, and knight, and lady, they looked on his gifts
so fair,
And all, with one mouth, they praised him who brought help in
their sore
despair;
And all, for his sake, were joyful--Then the hero he bade
prepare 625
Strong chargers, and well-trained palfreys, such as well
might a lady bear.
Nor the knights should be lacking armour--Strong squires in
coat of mail
Were ready to do his bidding, nor should one of their number
fail.
And in this wise he gave his orders, four knights he aside
did take:
His chamberlain one; and another, cup-bearer he fain would
make; 630
The third he would make his steward; and his marshal the
fourth should be,
For this was his prayer, and the four knights said 'Yea' to
him willingly.
At peace lay King Arthur's army, and no greeting did Gawain
send,
Yet I wot well it sorely grieved him! With the morning the
host did wend,
With the blast of many a trumpet, their way unto Ioflanz'
plain, 635
And the rear-guard was armed, yet no foeman did they find in
their path again.
Then Gawain took his office-bearers, and in this wise to them
he spake,
The marshal, he bade him straightway to Ioflanz his way to
take,
'There a camp of my own prepare me--The host that thou here
didst see
Shall unto that plain have ridden, and its lord will I name
to thee, 640
For 'tis well that thou too shouldst know him, he is Arthur,
my kinsman true,
In whose court and whose care from my childhood I unto my
manhood grew.
Now do this thing in which I trust thee, rule my journey in
such a wise,
With such riches and pomp, that my coming be stately in all
men's eyes;
But within the walls of this castle no word of the truth be
told-- 645
That the king for my sake cometh hither, this must thou for
secret hold!'
So did they as Gawain bade them, and Plippalinòt he found
Little space had he now for leisure, since his lord was on
journey bound.
For large and small his vessels, both boat and skiff, must
fare
O'er the water, and troops well armèd, ahorse and afoot they
bare. 650
And the marshal the squires and footmen on the track of the
Bretons led,
And hither and thither riding behind them the army sped.
And they bare with them, so 'twas told me, the tent that in
days of yore
Fair Iblis had sent to Klingsor, as pledge of the love she
bore.
By the sending of this love-token their secret to men was
told, 655
And the favour they bare each other in the days that have
waxen old.
And no cost had they spared who had wrought it, and no better
was ever seen
Save the tent of Eisenhart only--Then apart on the grass so
green
They set up the tent, and around it many others in goodly
ring,
And so great was the pomp and the riches that men deemed it a
wondrous thing. 660
And they spake before King Arthur that the marshal of Gawain
came,
And his lord the same day would follow, and encamp him upon
the plain.
'Twas the talk of all the vassals--Then Gawain, from
falsehood free,
Rode forth from his home and there followed a goodly company.
And their train was so richly ordered that marvels I here
might tell! 665
With church gear and chamber hangings the pack-steeds were
burdened well;
And some were with harness laden, and above the harness bare
Full many a crested helmet, and shield that was blazoned
fair.
And many a gallant war-horse was led by the bridle rein,
And behind them both knight and lady rode close in the
glittering train. 670
Would ye measure the length? a mile long, methinks, had it
stretched, and more,
And Sir Gawain, I ween, forgat not that a gallant knight
should draw
His rein by the side of each lady, and ever of love they
spake,
Or one scant of wit had deemed them! And in this wise the
road they take,
The Turkowit, brave Florand, for companion upon his way 675
Had the daughter of Queen Arnivé, Sangivé of Norroway,
And Lischois, who was ne'er unready, he rode at sweet
Kondrie's side,
And by Gawain the maid Itonjé, his sister, perforce must
ride.
At the same time the Queen Arnivé and the Duchess of fair
Logrois
Rode gaily the one by the other, for in such wise they made
their choice. 680
Beyond the camp of King Arthur the tents of Gawain they lay,
And they who were fain to reach them thro' the army must take
their way.
'Twas a sight for all men to gaze at! Ere the folk to their
journey's end
Might come, of a courteous custom, to do honour unto his
friend,
Gawain by the tent of Arthur bade the first maiden take her
stand, 685
Then the marshal so did his office that the second, to her
right hand,
And the third beside the second, should unto each other ride,
And none of them all delayed them--So made they a circle
wide,
Here the matrons, and there the maidens, and by each of them
rode a knight
Who would fain do the lady service, and would for her favours
fight. 690
And thus round the tent of the monarch stood the ladies, a
goodly ring,
And to Gawain, the rich in gladness, fair welcome would
Arthur bring.
To the ground sprang Gawain and Arnivé, and her daughters
with children twain,
The Lady of Logrois, and the heroes he o'erthrew on the
grassy plain,
Lischois and the gallant Florand; then unto those heroes
brave 695
Stepped Arthur from his pavilion, and a kindly welcome gave;
And the queen, she greeted Gawain, and she welcomed him and
his
Of true heart, and from many a lady, I ween, was there many a
kiss!
Quoth Arthur unto his nephew, 'Say, who shall thy comrades
be?'
Quoth Gawain, 'A kiss of greeting from my lady I fain would
see, 700
'Twere ill an she should refuse it, for noble are both I
ween.'
Then Florand and the Duke of Gowerzein were kissed by the
gracious queen.
Then into the tent they gat them, and to many the fair field
wide
Was as if it were full of maidens, so close stood they, side
by side.
Then not as the heavy-footed sprang Arthur upon his steed, 705
And he turned to the knights and the ladies in the ring with
a kindly heed,
And he rode from one to the other, and gracious the words he
spake,
From the lips of the king so kindly each one must his welcome
take.
For this was the will of Gawain that no man from hence should
ride
Till he himself rode with them, but courteous his coming
bide. 710
Then the king would dismount, and straightway he entered the
tent again,
And he sat him beside his nephew, and straitly he prayed
Gawain
To say who were these five ladies, whom hither the knight did
bring.
Then Gawain he looked on the eldest and he spake to the
Breton king,
'Didst thou know Uther Pendragon? 'Tis Arnivé, his queen and
wife, 715
And well mayst thou look upon her, from the twain didst thou
draw thy life.
And there standeth the Queen of Norway, and _I_ am the son
she bare,
And these twain they shall be my sisters; say, are they not
maidens fair?'
Ah! then once again they kissed them, and sorrow and joy were
seen
Of all those who looked upon them, from Love this their lot
had been; 720
And they laughed, and they cried together, and their lips
spake of joy and woe,
And I ween that with tears of gladness their bright eyes must
overflow.
Then Arthur he spake to Gawain, 'Nephew, unknown to me
Is the fifth of these lovely ladies, I prithee who may she
be?'
'The Duchess, is she, of Logrois,' quoth Gawain in his
courtesy, 725
'In her service have I come hither, and, so it was told to
me,
Thou thyself hast sought her dwelling, and how it rejoiced
thee there,
Thou canst without shame declare us, as a widower dost thou
fare.'
Quoth Arthur, 'She doth, as her captive, thy kinsman Gaherjet
hold,
And Garel, who in many a conflict hath shown h'm a hero bold; 730
From my very side was he taken, one charge had we made so
nigh
That almost we gained the portal, when lo! from the gate did
fly
Meljanz of Lys! How he battled! On high flew a banner white
And the host who fought beneath it took captive my gallant
knight.
And the banner it bare a blazon of crimson, a bleeding heart, 735
And right through the midst was it pierced by the shaft of a
sable dart,
As one who to death is smitten--'Lirivoin' was the battle-cry
Of the army who fought beneath it, and their hand did the
victory buy.
My nephew, Iofreit, was taken, and grief for his sake I
know--
Yestreen did I keep the rear-guard, and the chance it hath
worked me woe!' 740
Sore mourned the king for his sorrow--quoth the Duchess, with
courteous mien,
'Sire, I speak thee free of all shaming, I had greeted thee
not, I ween.
Thou mayst well have wrought me evil, tho' no wrong had I
done to thee,
And I would that God's wisdom teach thee that harm to make
good to me.
The knight to whose aid thou camest, if combat with me he
dared, 745
Hath found me, methinks, defenceless, with side to the foeman
bared.
If yet for such strife he lusteth, nor of conflict hath had
his fill,
With never a sword or a weapon I think to withstand him
still.'
Then Gawain, he quoth to King Arthur, 'Wilt thou that we fill
the plain
With knights? For we well can do so--I think me such grace to
gain 750
From the Duchess that all the captives from thine host she
will swiftly free,
And, many a new spear bearing, her knighthood we here may
see.'
'Yea, such were my will,' quoth Arthur; then the Duchess she
gave command,
And many a gallant hero she summoned from Logrois' land--
And I wot well a host so goodly the earth ne'er had seen
before-- 755
Then Gawain, he prayed leave of the monarch, he would to his
tent withdraw,
And the king's will was e'en as Gawain's, and all they who
hither rode
With the knight, they turned their bridles, and with him in
his camp abode.
And his tent was so rich and so goodly, as befitted a gallant
knight,
That afar from its costly trappings had poverty taken flight. 760
And there rode unto his pavilion full many whose hearts were
sore
For the weary days since he left them, and the love they to
Gawain bore.
And the wounds of Kay had been healèd since he jousted by
Plimizöl,
And he looked on the wealth of Gawain, and with envy his
heart was full,
And he quoth, 'Now, King Lot, his father, my monarch's near
of kin, 765
Ne'er thought with such pomp to shame us, nor a camp of his
own would win.'
(For ever did he bethink him how Gawain would no vengeance
take
On the knight who so sorely smote him, when his right arm in
joust he brake,)
'God worketh for _some_ His wonders,--Who gave Gawain this
woman folk?'
And the words they were scarce a friend's words that Kay in
his anger spoke. 770
Of the honour his friend hath won him the true knight is ever
glad,
But the faithless, aloud he crieth, and his heart ever waxeth
sad
When the heart of his friend rejoiceth, and he needs must his
gladness see.
Bliss and honour had fallen to Gawain; and, if one would more
favoured be,
I know not what thing he may wish for! Thus ever the evil
mind 775
Is with envy filled, while the brave man his comfort and joy
doth find
When honour shall seek his comrade, and shame from his face
doth flee--
Gawain ne'er forgat his knighthood, and from falsehood was
ever free;
And thus it was right and fitting that men on his bliss
should gaze,
And gladness and fair rejoicing henceforward should crown his
days. 780
In what wise for the folk that followed did the knight of
Norway care,
Alike for his knights and ladies? Not ill was, methinks,
their fare.
And Arthur and all his people they looked on King Lot's fair
son,
And I trow well they greatly marvelled at the riches his hand
had won.
Now the evening meal was ended, and 'twas time for the folk
to sleep, 785
And little I grudge their slumber! A guard thro' the night
they keep,
And lo! at the early morning, ere the dawning had waxed
to-day,
Came a folk in goodly armour, and the men of Logrois were
they.
And they read their helmet's token by the light of the waning
moon,
On this side lay the host of Arthur, and his camp had they
passed full soon, 790
And they came to the goodly circle where Gawain and his men
should lie--
And, methinks, who such gallant succour by the might of his
hand could buy
Were reckoned of men a hero! Then Gawain bade his Marshal
find
A place for the host to camp on, but, such was their leader's
mind,
He deemed it best that their circle apart from the rest
should be, 795
And 'twas even the hour of noontide ere all were lodged
fittingly.
Then Arthur, the noble monarch, a message would straightway
send;
Unto Rosche Sabbins, and the city, a squire on his way should
wend
To King Gramoflanz should he speak thus, 'Since conflict the
king doth pray,
And he lusteth to fight my nephew, the strife shall he not
delay, 800
For Sir Gawain is fain to meet him--But bid him to meet us
here,
As a gallant man do we know him, were he other, 'twould cost
him dear!'
And the messenger of King Arthur he rode on his errand fain--
Then forth, with Lischois and Sir Florand, rode the gallant
knight, Gawain,
And he prayed them to show them to him who from many a land
afar 805
Had ridden for love's high service, and had fought in his
lady's war.
And he met them and gave them greeting in such wise that the
heroes knew
Sir Gawain for courteous lover, and faithful knight and true.
With that again he left them, and in secret his way he sped,
And he gat him again to his chamber, and he armed him from
foot to head; 810
He would know if his wounds were healèd so that never a scar
should pain,
And his limbs would he test, since so many, both maiden and
man were fain
To look on the strife, had they wisdom they should see if his
dauntless hand
Might even to-day, as aforetime, the victor's crown command.
A squire did he bid to bring him his charger, Gringuljet, 815
And he sprang to the saddle lightly and the horse to a gallop
set.
He would try both himself and his charger, if ready for
strife the twain--
Ah! woe is me for his journey! so rode he upon the plain,
And so had his Fortune willed it, that a knight his bridle
drew
By the side of the river Sabbins, and ye know that knight so
true, 820
And a rock, men well might call him, for manhood and courage
high,
And no knight might stand before him, and falsehood his heart
did fly.
And yet so weak was his body that no burden it bare of wrong,
Yea, a hand's-breadth had been too heavy, and a finger-length
too long!
And, I ween, of this gallant hero of old time ye oft must
hear, 825
For my tale hath come to its root-tree, and draweth its goal
anear.
BOOK XIV
GRAMOFLANZ
ARGUMENT
BOOK XIV. tells how Parzival and Gawain met and, unknowing,
fought with
each other, how Gawain was defeated, and of Parzival's grief when
he
learnt with whom he had fought.
How the combat between Gawain and Gramoflanz was deferred till
the
morrow; and how Parzival was welcomed at the court of King
Arthur, and
admitted to the Brotherhood of the Round Table.
How Parzival, in Gawain's stead, fought with and overcame King
Gramoflanz, and how the latter sent messengers to King Arthur to
pray
that none but Gawain should fight against him. Of the grief of
Itonjé
when she learnt how her brother would fight with King Gramoflanz,
and
how she prayed the aid of King Arthur.
How Arthur and Brandelidelein made peace between the Duchess and
Gawain, and of the wedding feast that was held in the camp. Of
Parzival's sorrow and longing for his wife, and how ere the dawn
of day
he stole in secret from the court.
BOOK XIV
GRAMOFLANZ
If now the gallant Gawain a knightly joust would ride,
Tho' never I feared for his honour yet I fear what may now
betide.
And tho' dear be the other's safety yet never a doubt I know,
For he who in strife would face him an army had found for
foe.
O'er far seas, in the land of paynim, his helmet was
fashioned fair, 5
And ruby-red was his harness, and the trappings his charger
bare.
So rode he in search of adventure, and his shield it was
piercèd thro'--
He had plucked for his helm a garland, and the tree where the
garland grew
Was the tree that Gramoflanz guarded; and Gawain knew the
wreath again,
And he thought, did the king here wait him it were counted to
him for shame, 10
If hither for strife he had ridden then strife there perforce
must be,
Tho' alone were the twain, and no lady the fate of their
jousting see.
From Monsalväsch they came, the chargers, which each of the
knights bestrode,
And they spurred them alike to a gallop, and each 'gainst the
other rode,
On the dewy grass of the meadow, not the sand of the Tourney
ring, 15
Should the joust this morn be ridden; and I ween, as their
deeds I sing,
I had mourned for the harm of either--'Twas a fair joust they
rode that morn,
Of a race that fought fair and knightly was each gallant hero
born;
And little had been his winning, great his loss, who there
won the prize,
And ne'er had he ceased to mourn it, if he were in his
calling wise. 20
For faith had they pledged to each other, nor of old time,
nor yet to-day,
Had their love and their truth been wounded--Now hear how
they fought the fray:
Swiftly they rode, yet in such wise that each knight must
mourn his fate--
For kinsman and knightly brethren, in strength of foeman's
hate,
In strife had come together; and he who this joust should win 25
His joy were the pledge of sorrow, and his deed must he count
for sin--
And each right hand it smote so surely that the comrades and
foemen twain,
With horse and with goodly harness, fell prone on the grassy
plain.
And then in such wise they bear them, with their swords such
blows they smite,
That their shields are hewn and riven, and cloven in deadly
fight. 30
And the splinters of shields, and the grass blades, were
mingled upon the ground,
And far other the look of the meadow ere their strife had its
ending found;
And too long must they wait for a daysman--'twas early when
first they fought,
And the hours sped by, and no man an end to their conflict
brought,
And no man was there beside them--Will ye hear how, the
self-same day, 35
King Arthur's knights to the army of King Gramoflanz made
their way?
On a plain by the sea he camped him--On the one side of the
ground
Flowed the Sabbins, and over against it the Poinzacleins its
ending found.
And the plain it was strongly guarded; Rosche Sabbins the
citadel,
With towers and with walls deep-moated, defended the fourth
side well. 40
And the host on the plain lay stretching its length for a
mile and more,
And half a mile broad had they deemed it--As the messengers
toward it bore,
Many unknown knights rode forward, archers, squires, with
arms and spear,
And behind them, with waving banners, did the mighty host
draw near.
With ringing blasts of trumpet would the army leave the
plain, 45
That very morn to Ioflanz marched the monarch and all his
train.
And clear rung the ladies' bridles as they circled around the
king--
And, if I may tell the story, the tidings I fain would bring
Of those who had ridden hither, and camped on the sward so
green,
For Gramoflanz bade them hither, and his combat they fain had
seen. 50
If ye shall not before have heard it then here would I make
it known,
From Punt, the water-locked city, to his nephew's aid had
flown
Brandelidelein, and with him were six hundred ladies fair,
By the side of each lovely lady her knight must his armour
wear;
For knighthood and love would he serve her--Of Punturtois,
the gallant knights 55
Were fain for this stately journey, in sooth 'twas a noble
sight.
And there rode, an ye will believe me, Count Bernard of
Riviers,
Rich Narant had been his father, and left Uckerland to his
heir.
And in many a ship o'er the water had he brought so fair a
host
Of ladies, that none gainsaid him who would make of their
beauty boast. 60
Two hundred of them were maidens, and two hundred already
wed--
And if I have rightly counted 'neath his banner Count Bernard
led
Five hundred knights well proven, who with him had sailed the
sea,
And each well might face a foeman, and each should a hero be.
Thus King Gramoflanz would wreak vengeance in strife for the
broken tree, 65
For he deemed he should be the victor, and the folk should
his prowess see.
And the princes from out his kingdom, with many a valiant
knight,
And many a lovely lady, had come to behold the fight;
And a goodly folk were gathered--Now Arthur's men drew near,
And they looked upon the monarch, how they found him ye now
shall hear. 70
Of Palmât was the high seat 'neath him, and with silk was the
couch spread o'er,
And maidens, so fair and graceful, they knelt low the king
before,
And with iron hose they shod him; and high o'er the monarch's
head,
A silk, Ecidemon-woven, both broad and long, was spread,
On twelve spear-shafts tall was it lifted, from the sunlight
to be a shade-- 75
Then came the men of King Arthur, and this was the word they
said:
'Sire, King Arthur hath hither sent us, and ever hath he been
known
As one whom all men have honoured, and whom all shall as
victor own.
Yea, honour enow is his portion--And yet wouldst thou mar his
fame,
Since upon the son of his sister thou thinkest to bring this
shame! 80
And e'en had Sir Gawain wrought thee worse ill by far, I
ween,
That the fame of the great Round Table might here for a
shield have been.
For brotherhood all have sworn him who sit at that noble
board,
And stainless shall be their knighthood who own Arthur for
king and lord!
Quoth the king, 'The strife I sware him e'en to-day my hand
shall dare, 85
And Gawain to-day shall face me, if well or if ill he fare.
For this hath been truly told me, that King Arthur draweth
near
With his queen, and his host of warriors; I bid them welcome
here!
Tho' it may be the angry Duchess shall counsel him to mine
ill,
Yet hearken and heed, ye children, the strife shall be
foughten still. 90
For here have I many a follower, and hindered of none will
be,
What _one_ man can do unto me that bear I right joyfully!
And if now I should fear to face that to which I my pledge
have sworn,
Of Love's service and Love's rewarding henceforward were I
forlorn!
In her favour I found aforetime my life and my life's best
bliss-- 95
God knoweth how _he_ hath pleased her, she oweth me much for
this!--
And tho' ever I did disdain me to fight with one man alone,
Yet Gawain hath so bravely borne him that him as I my peer
I'll own.
And I think me I shame my manhood when such easy strife I
fight;
And yet have I fought, believe me, (ye can ask if it seem ye
right,) 100
With folk whom mine hand hath proven to be valiant men and
true,
But ne'er have I fought but _one_ man! No praise shall be
here my due,
From the lips of gracious women, tho' the victory be mine
to-day--
And greatly my heart rejoiceth that her bands have been reft
away
For whose sake I fight this conflict; so many a distant land 105
Are vassals unto King Arthur, and pay tribute unto his hand,
It may well be with him she cometh, for whose sake both joy
and pain
Unto death I would gladly suffer, if she be for my service
fain.
And what better fate can befall me than that this my fair lot
shall be,
That she looketh upon my service, and her eyes shall my
victory see!' 110
And near to the king sat Bené, nor her heart for the strife
did fail,
For full oft had she seen his valour, and she deemed he might
well prevail.
But yet had she known that Gawain was brother unto the maid,
And 'twas _he_ who now stood in peril, of a sooth had she
been dismayed.
A golden ring from Itonjé she brought him for token fair, 115
'Twas the same as her gallant brother did over the Sabbins
bear
O'er the Poinzacleins came Bené in a boat, and this word she
spake,
'From Château Merveil doth my lady, with the others, her
journey take.'
And she spake from the lips of Itonjé such steadfast words
and true,
That more, from the lips of a maiden, I ween never monarch
knew. 120
And she prayed him to think of her sorrow, since all gain did
she hold as naught
For the gain of his love, and his service was all that her
true heart sought.
And glad was the king at the tidings, yet would fight with
her brother still--
'Twere better I had no sister, such rewarding would please me
ill!
Then they bare unto him his harness, 'twas costly beyond
compare-- 125
No hero, by love constrainèd, who fought for love's guerdon
fair,
Were he Gamuret, or Galoes, or Killicrates, the valiant king,
Had better decked his body the love of a maid to win--
And no richer silk had been woven in Ipopotiticon,
Or brought from Kalomedenté, or the city of Akraton, 130
Or from far-off Agatyrsjenté, than the silk for his garment
wove--
Then he kissed the small ring golden, the pledge of Itonjé's
love,
For he knew her for true and faithful, and tho' peril upon
him pressed,
Yet the thought of her love and her longing would guard, as a
shield, his breast.
All armed was now the monarch; twelve maidens on palfreys
fair, 135
Each one a spear-shaft holding, the awning aloft would bear.
And the king, he rode beneath it, and its shadow was o'er his
head,
As on to the strife he craved for the gallant hero sped.
And on either side of the monarch there rode fair maidens
twain,
Tall and stately were they to look on, the noblest of all his
train. 140
The messengers of King Arthur no longer they made delay,
And, behold! they met with Gawain as they rode on their
homeward way,
And ne'er had they felt such sorrow, their voices they raised
on high,
And they cried aloud for his peril, and their love and their
loyalty.
For the strife had near found its ending, and victor was
Gawain's foe, 145
For his strength, it was more than Gawain's, and well-nigh
had he laid him low,
When the pages who rode towards them called loudly on
Gawain's name,
For well did they know the hero, and it grieved them to see
his shame.
Then he, who erewhile would fight him, of conflict would have
no more,
But he cast from his hand his weapon, and he cried, as he
wept full sore, 150
'Accursèd am I, and dishonoured, and all blessing from me
hath flown,
Since my luckless hand, unwitting, so sinful a strife hath
known.
Methinks it is too unseemly! yea, guilty am I alway,
And born 'neath a star of Ill Fortune, and forced from all
bliss to stray.
And the arms that to-day I carry are the same that of old I
bore, 155
For they are of Ill-luck the token, e'en to-day as they were
of yore.
Alas! that with gallant Gawain I have foughten so fierce a
fight,
'Tis _myself_ whom I here have vanquished, and my joy shall
have taken flight.
With the first blow I struck against him misfortune hath
reached my side,
And peace shall have sped far from me, and her face from my
face doth hide!' 160
And Gawain heard, and saw his sorrow, and he spake out right
wonderingly,
'Alas, Sir Knight, who art thou, who speakest thus well of
me?
If I might such words have hearkened the while I had strength
and power,
Then my honour had ne'er been forfeit, for the victory is
thine this hour!
And fain would I know how men call him with whom I shall find
my fame, 165
Since hereafter I needs must seek it, so tell me, I pray, thy
name--
For ever was I the victor when I fought with one man alone.'
'Yea, gladly my _name_ I'll tell thee who aforetime my _face_
hast known,
And true service I fain would do thee wherever such chance
befall,
For thy kinsman am I, and cousin, and men call me
_Parzival_!' 170
Then out quoth Gawain, 'So, 'tis fitting, here Folly her goal
hath found,
And her ways full straight hath she wroughten which aforetime
but crooked wound.
Here have two hearts, leal and faithful, their hate 'gainst
each other shown,
And thy hand which hath won the victory hath the twain of us
overthrown.
And for _both_ of us shalt thou sorrow, for thyself by
thyself laid low, 175
And the thought it shall surely grieve thee if thy true heart
true faith doth know!'
Then, e'en as the words were spoken, no longer the knight
Gawain
Might stand for very weakness, for the blows they had dulled
his brain,
And his footsteps they failed and faltered, and prone on the
grass he lay--
Then down sprang the squire of King Arthur, and aid did he
bring straightway, 180
For he lifted his head, and from off it he loosened the
helmet's band,
With his head-gear of peacock's feathers the face of Gawain
he fanned
Till his care new strength had brought him--Now on to the
field did ride,
From the armies twain, much people, they flocked hither from
either side.
And each one would seek his station, for here should the
fight be fought, 185
And the lists, they were set with tree-trunks, each smooth as
a mirror wrought.
Gramoflanz the cost had given, since from him had the
challenge come,
A hundred in all the tree-trunks, and brightly they shone
each one.
And no man should come within them, and the place between was
wide,
Full forty lengths from each other stood the fifty on either
side, 190
Each blazoned with many colours; and here should the combat
be;
And on either side the army from the strife should hold them
free.
As by moat and rampart sundered, so should they in peace
remain,
In this wise they sware, the foemen, King Gramoflanz and
Gawain.
To this combat, by none awaited, came the folk from either
side, 195
At the self-same hour, fain were they to know what should
there betide,
For they marvelled much who had fought here, and had shown
such knightly skill;
Or who should such strife have challenged, for alone was it
foughten still,
And neither side their comrades had bidden unto the ring,
But alone had each knight come hither, and men deemed it a
wondrous thing. 200
But now as the fight was foughten on the flower-besprinkled
plain,
Came King Gramoflanz, to wreak vengeance for the garland upon
Gawain;
And he heard what thing had chanced there, that so fierce the
fight had been
That never a fiercer conflict with sword might a man have
seen,
And the twain who fought together had never a cause to
fight-- 205
Then the king, from out his army, rode straight to the
gallant knights;
And he found them battle-weary, and much he mourned their
pain;
Tho' scarcely his strength might bear him, up-sprang the
knight Gawain,
And the twain they stood together--Now Bené rode with the
king,
And with him, as the strife was ended, she came to the
battle-ring, 210
And she saw Gawain all powerless, whom, for honour and fair
renown,
O'er all the world had she chosen to crown with joy's fairest
crown.
With a cry of heartfelt sorrow from her palfrey the maiden
sprung,
And she spake, as her arms around him in a close embrace she
flung,
'Accurst be the hand that such sorrow on so fair a form hath
brought, 215
For in sooth all manly beauty its mirror in thee hath
sought!'
On the sward did she bid him seat him, and, the while that
she wept full sore,
With tender hand from his eyelids she wiped the sweat and
gore;
And heavy and hot his harness--Then Gramoflanz quoth again,
'In sooth must I grieve for thy sorrow, since my hand wrought
it not, Gawain; 220
If to-morrow again thou comest, and wilt meet me upon this
field,
Then gladly will I await thee, and will face thee with spear
and shield.
_Now_ as lief would I fight with a woman as with thee, who
art brought so low,
For how shall I win me honour if strength shall have failed
my foe?
Go, rest thee to-day, for 'tis needful, and then wouldst thou
take the place 225
Of thy father, King Lot, I am ready to meet thee here, face
to face.'
But Parzival stood unwearied, nor as yet a sign he bare
Of pallor, nor strength had failed him, and he faced the
monarch fair,
And he loosed from his head the helmet, that the king his
face might see,
And he spake, 'Sir, if this my cousin in aught shall have
wrongèd thee 230
Then take _me_ as his pledge, unwearied, as thou seest, is
yet mine hand,
And the wrath thou dost bear against him I may well with my
sword withstand.'
Then spake the King of Rosche Sabbins, 'Sir Knight, at the
morrow's morn
For my garland he payeth tribute, and its fame shall anew be
born,
Or to such a pass shall he bring me that shame shall my
portion be-- 235
Thou mayst otherwise be a hero, but this conflict is not for
_thee_!'
In wrath spake the lips of Bené, 'Fie on thee! thou faithless
hound,
Thro' him whom thy false heart hateth thine heart hath its
freedom found.
She to whom thou wouldst do love-service, she liveth at his
command,
Thyself hast renounced the victory which else might have
crowned thine hand. 240
Thou hast no claim on Love's rewarding, and if ever within
thine heart
Love had for awhile her dwelling with falsehood she bare a
part!'
As thus she waxed full wrathful, Gramoflanz led the maid
aside,
And quoth,'Now, Lady, grieve not, this strife must needs
betide.
But stay thou here with thy master, and say to his sister
sweet 245
That I am in truth her servant, in all that a knight finds
meet.'
But now as Bené hearkened, and knew of a truth Gawain
Was brother unto her lady, and must fight on the grassy
plain,
Then drave griefs plough its furrows thro' her heart, both
deep and sore,
And filled them with flood of sorrow, for truth in her heart
she bore. 250
And she quoth, 'Ride hence, accursèd, thou false and
faithless one,
For steadfast love and loyal thine heart hath never won!'
The king and his knights they rode hence, and the lads of
Arthur's train
They took the heroes' chargers, weary with strife the twain.
Then Parzival, and Gawain, and Bené, that maiden bright, 255
They rode to the camp of King Arthur with many a gallant
knight.
And Parzival in manhood had so borne the prize away
That all men were glad at his coming, and rejoiced in his
fame that day.
And more, if I can, would I tell ye--the wise men of either
host
Spake but of this man, of his valour in this wise they made
their boast, 260
'Wot ye well who hath here been victor? 'Twas Parzival, he
alone!'
And so fair was his face to look on none fairer was ever
known.
So thought they who looked upon him, and they swear it, both
man and maid--
So he came to the tent of Gawain; and little his host
delayed,
But he bade them bring costly raiment, and rich as was his
own gear, 265
And alike were they clad, the heroes, and all folk must the
marvel hear
That Parzival came among them, of whose glory all men had
heard,
And the fame of his deeds so knightly, and no mouth but spake
this word.
Quoth Gawain, 'Art thou fain to look on four queens who are
kin to thee,
And other fair ladies with them, then thy guide will I gladly
be.' 270
Quoth Gamuret's son, 'If fair ladies be here thou shalt vex
them not
With the sight of my face, for no kindness from woman shall
be my lot
Since by Plimizöl's bank they hearkened to the shame that
upon me fell:
May their honour of God be guarded, for ever I wish them
well,
But my shame weigheth heavy on me, and it vexeth so sore my
heart, 275
I were fain ne'er to look on woman, but live me a life apart'
'Yet so must it be,' quoth Gawain; then Parzival he led
To the four queens, who gave him greeting and kissed him with
lips so red.
But sorely it vexed the Duchess, that she, too, must kiss
this knight,
Who little had cared for her kisses, nor would for her
favours fight-- 280
Tho' her lands and her love she proffered when he before
Logrois fought,
And she rode far to overtake him--thus shame in her anger
wrought.
But the others they spake him gently, with never a thought of
wrong,
Till shame from his heart was driven, and joy in its stead
waxed strong.
Then Gawain of right and reason, if Bené his grace would
hold, 285
Bade her seal her lips to silence, to her lady no word be
told,
'That King Gramoflanz for his garland doth hatred toward me
bear,
And at the set time to-morrow our strife must be foughten
fair,
Speak no word of this to my sister, and do thou thy tears
give o'er;'
And she spake, 'I do well to weep thus, and to mourn, and to
sorrow sore, 290
For whoever shall fall in the combat my lady must sorrow
know,
And however the battle goeth, the issue shall be for woe.
And well may we mourn the venture, my lady and I alike,
What boots it to be her brother, if thou at her heart wilt
strike?'
Now the host to their tents betook them, and the mid-day meal
was spread 295
For Gawain, and the knights and ladies who should break at
his table bread,
And Parzival as companion should have the Duchess fair--
And Gawain, he besought his lady for the hero to have good
care;
But she quoth, 'To my care dost thou give him, who can make
of a woman sport?
How should I care for this man? Yet would I gainsay thee
naught; 300
And if this be thy will, I will do it, tho' for payment I
mocking know'--
Quoth Gamuret's son, 'Nay, Lady, thou doest me wrong I trow,
At least have I so much wisdom, if I know myself aright,
That women are free from my mocking, since ill 'twould beseem
a knight!'
Whatever they set before them no lack had they there of meat, 305
And courteous was their service, and with joy all the folk
did eat.
But Itonjé, she looked on Bené, and she read in her eyes the
tale
Of the tears she had wept but lately, and for sorrow her
cheeks grew pale,
And nothing she ate, for she thought still, 'Now wherefore
doth Bené weep?
For I sent her but now to the monarch who my heart doth his
captive keep, 310
And for whose sake I grieve me sorely--Have I done aught to
vex my knight?
Doth he think to renounce my service and no more for my love
to fight?
If, with steadfast heart and manly, he thinketh on me no
more,
Poor maid, I must die of sorrow, and the love that to him I
bore!'
The noontide hour was over ere the feast had ended here, 315
Then hither rode King Arthur, and his queen, fair Guinevere,
With a host of knights and ladies, to where, within their
sight,
Mid the band of gracious maidens sat that true and valiant
knight;
And to Parzival such greeting and such welcome fair they gave
That from many sweet lips sweet kisses he won, that hero
brave! 320
And Arthur would do him honour, and with many a gracious word
He thanked him for the valour that had spread his name
abroad,
And the fame that had waxed so goodly, and that stood so high
and fair,
That of right o'er all men living the crown of worth he bare.
Quoth the Waleis unto King Arthur, 'Yet Sire, when I saw thee
last 325
My honour so sore was wounded that it well-nigh to earth was
cast;
And in knighthood I paid such forfeit that of knighthood was
I forlorn--
But now have I hearkened to thee, and if thou be not forsworn
Then honour still dwelleth with me, tho' my heart it misgives
me sore!
I would trust in thy word right gladly--But what of these
knights who swore 330
True friendship and brotherhood with me, and from whom I must
part in shame?'
Then all with one voice they spake there--He had won for
himself such fame
And had wrought such brave deeds of knighthood in many a
distant land,
That his fame o'er the fame of all others did high and
unspotted stand.
Then the knights of the Duchess' army they came where by
Arthur's side 335
Sat Parzival, fair to look on, 'mid the knightly circle wide.
And the king in the tent received them, but so courtly was he
and wise,
That, tho' wide was the tent of Gawain, he thought best that
in all men's eyes
He should sit without on the meadow, and the knights they
should sit around,
And strangers they were to each other who place in the circle
found. 340
Would ye know who was this and that one? The tale it were all
too long
If Christian I named and paynim--Who were Klingsor's warriors
strong;
Who were they who so well were armèd, and showed them such
men of might
When they rode from the city of Logrois, and would for their
Duchess fight;
Who had followed King Arthur hither--If each one, his land
and kin, 345
I named in their rightful order 'twere ill to the end to win!
But all men they spake together, there was none there like
Parzival,
For his face and his form so lovely many women might love him
well;
And nothing there failed unto him of aught that beseemed a
knight
Who beareth the crown of honour, and fighteth a goodly fight. 350
Then Gamuret's son upstood there, and he spake, 'Ye who shall
be here
Give counsel, and help me win that which my soul ever holdeth
dear;
A strange and a hidden wonder it drave me from out your
band--
Ye who brotherhood once have sworn me, and in friendship have
clasped my hand,
Now help me, by this your knighthood, mine honour to win
again!' 355
And gladly would Arthur grant him that for which his desire
was fain.
Then aside with few folk he stepped him, and straitly he
prayed this grace,
That the strife, at the hour appointed, he in Gawain's stead
might face,
'Right gladly will I defy him, King Gramoflanz, in his pride;
I brake from his tree this morning a bough ere I thence did
ride, 360
And for that he of need must fight me--For conflict I sought
his land,
And for nothing else came I hither but to fight with his
strong right hand.
I thought not I here should find thee, my cousin, it grieves
me sore,
For this king did I surely take thee, who never from strife
forbore.
Now let me, I prithee, fight him; if ever he know defeat 365
My hand shall such lesson teach him as he findeth not over
sweet!
They have given me back mine honour, and thy brother knight
am I,
And thy kinsman true, fair cousin, so grant to me, cousinly,
That this combat be mine--I swear thee for us twain will I
face the foe,
And there do such deeds of valour that all men shall my
manhood know!' 370
Quoth Gawain, 'In the court of King Arthur have I many a
brother dear,
And kinsman true, yet to no man may I grant what thou prayest
here.
My cause is so good, I think me, that Fate so shall rule the
fight
That I stand at the last the victor, tho' my foe be a man of
might.
God reward thee that thou, of thy kindness, this conflict for
me wouldst face, 375
But the day is not yet in its dawning when another may take
my place!'
Now Arthur the prayer had hearkened, of their speech he an
end would make,
Once more in the ring beside them his seat did the monarch
take.
And the cup-bearers did not tarry, the noble youths they bare
Many golden cups so precious, and wroughten with jewels fair, 380
Nor one alone could fill them--and when their task was o'er
The folk uprose, and gat them each one to his rest once more.
And night-fall had come upon them--Naught did Parzival delay,
But he wrought in such wise that his harness might be ready
ere break of day.
Were a strap or a fastening broken, of that did he have good
care, 385
And he bade them look well unto it, that all should be fit
and fair.
And a shield new and strong must they bring him, for his own,
in many a fight,
With many a blow was cloven, and they brought him a shield of
might;
And the serving-men who bare it, they knew not the knight, I
trow,
And Frenchmen were some among them, as the venture doth bid
ye know. 390
And the steed that erewhile to jousting the Knight of the
Grail must bear,
Of that did a squire bethink him, and ne'er might it better
fare.
But now 'twas the hour for slumber, and the night had
o'ercome the day,
And Parzival slept, and before him all ready his armour lay.
And King Gramoflanz, he rued it that the day such chance had
brought 395
That another man in his presence for the sake of his garland
fought;
Nor his folk might still his longing for the strife that the
morn should bring,
And the thought, that he had delayed him, full sorely it
vexed the king.
What, then, should the hero do here? Since honour he sought
and fame,
He scarce might await the dawning, and the strife that with
daylight came, 400
But ere sunrise himself and his charger were clad all in
harness rare--
Did women, with wealth o'erburdened, the cost of his decking
share?
I wot that, without their aiding, it costly and fair should
be,
For the sake of a maid did he deck him, in her service no
laggard he!
So he rode hence to seek his foeman, and sorely it vexed the
king 405
That the early light of the morning Sir Gawain had failed to
bring.
Now, unknown unto all, in secret stole Parzival from the
court,
And he stripped of its floating pennon a strong spear from
Angram brought;
And fully armed was the hero, and lonely he took his way
Where the posts round the ring of battle shone fair in the
dawning day. 410
And he saw the king await him, and ere ever a word they spake
Men say that they smote each other thro' the shield, and the
spear-shafts brake;
And from either hand the splinters flew high in the summer
air,
For skilled were they both in jousting, and their swords they
right well might bear.
And the dew was brushed from the meadow, and the helmets felt
many a blow 415
From the edge of the blades keen-tempered, no faltering might
either know.
And the grass underfoot was trodden, and the dew-drops in
many a place
Swept away, and I needs must mourn here the red blossoms'
vanished grace.
Yet more do I mourn for the heroes, and their toil without
thought of fear,
And who with unmixed rejoicing, the tale of their strife
should hear 420
To whom they had ne'er done evil?--Then Gawain must himself
prepare
For the toil and the stress of battle, and the peril he
thought to dare.
And 'twas even the midst of the morning ere of all men the
tale was told
From his tent was Parzival missing, and they sought for the
hero bold.
Did he think to make peace? Nay, his bearing spake little,
methinks, of peace, 425
For he fought as a man, and 'twas noontide ere ever the
strife might cease.
A bishop sang Mass for Gawain, and the folk they stood thick
around,
And many a knight and lady on horseback might there be found,
Without the tent of King Arthur, ere the Mass to an end they
sing--
While the priest did his holy office, beside him there stood
the king; 430
When he spake the Benediction, then Gawain armed himself for
fight,
And greaves of iron, well wroughten, they did on his limbs of
might.
Then uprose a voice of wailing from the women, and one and
all
The host rode forth to the meadow; and lo! there did strife
befall,
And they heard the clash of the sword-blades, and they saw
the fire-sparks fly 435
From the helmets as there the foemen their blows with fierce
strength did ply.
King Gramoflanz oft had boasted he would scorn with _one_ man
to fight,
He thought here that _six_ were his foemen, and each one a
valiant knight
Yet none but Parzival faced him, and he fought in such
gallant wise,
That he taught to the king a lesson which men e'en to-day may
prize; 440
That in his own praise his own lips should speak never more
this tale,
He could fight and could conquer _two_ men, since o'er _one_
he might not prevail.
From left and from right came the armies, o'er the grassy
plain so wide,
And, each one their station keeping, they halted on either
side,
And they looked on the mighty combat, on one side the
chargers stood, 445
And afoot on the ground they battled with sword-blades, the
heroes good.
And sharp and sore was the conflict, and steadfast the twain
did stand,
And their swords on high they tossed them, and oft did the
blades change hands.
Now Gramoflanz reaped sore payment for the garland from off
his tree,
To the kinsman of his fair lady should the strife none too
easy be. 450
His kinship with fair Itonjé had stood Parzival in good
stead,
If right might have claimed a hearing, yet was not his strife
ill-sped.
And they who much fame had won them, again for fair fame
would fight;
And one strove for the sake of his kinsman, and one for his
lady bright,
For he did but Frau Minne's bidding, as was meet for her
vassal true-- 455
Now uprode the gallant Gawain, and e'en as he nearer drew
The conflict was nigh its ending, and the Waleis should
victor be;
And, bareheaded, unto the battle, there hastened those heroes
three,
Brandelidelein of Punturtois, and Count Bernard of Riviers,
And the third knight who rode beside them was Affinamus of
Clitiers. 460
From the army over against them came King Arthur beside
Gawain,
To the two knights, with battle wearied, they rode o'er the
grassy plain;
And all the five they thought them 'twas time that the strife
should end,
And Gramoflanz must confess here that no longer he might
contend,
And his own mouth proclaimed him vanquished, and his foeman
had won the day-- 465
And the folk who had seen the combat might never his word
gainsay!
Then out spake King Lot's son gaily, 'Sir King, I will speak
to thee
To-day, as yestreen thou spakest when rest thou didst bid to
_me_
"_Go rest thee to-day, for 'tis needful_," he who conflict
did here demand,
He will own thou art all too feeble this day to resist mine
hand. 470
_Alone_ I might well have faced thee, but thou with but _two_
wilt fight!
To-morrow I'll dare the venture, and may God show forth the
right!'
Then the king he rode to his army, but first must he pledge
his word
He would meet Gawain on the morrow, and face him with spear
and sword.
To Parzival quoth King Arthur, 'Nephew, thou late didst pray, 475
Of thy manhood, to fight this combat for Gawain, and he said
thee Nay,
And therein didst thou sore lament thee, and yet thou this
fight hast fought
For him who did strait forbid thee! Of our will hast thou
asked us naught.
From our court, as a thief, hast thou stolen, or else had we
held thine hand
Afar from this strife, I wot well thou didst fight not at
_our_ command! 480
Yet Gawain, he shall not be wrathful, tho' great praise be
for this thy meed.'--
Quoth Gawain, 'Nay, it nothing grieves me, my cousin's
gallant deed,
To-morrow is all too early if this combat I needs must face,
An the king would withdraw his challenge I would count it to
him for grace.'
To the camp rode the mighty army, there were many ladies
fair, 485
And many a knight in armour, and costly the arms they bare.
And I ween that never an army was so richly decked before,
For the knights of the good Round Table, and the men of the
Duchess wore
Fair surcoats richly blazoned, of silk from Zinidunt,
And bright was their outer garments, and brought from far
Pelpiunt. 490
But the heroes in either army spake ever of Parzival,
And their lips, in such wise they praised him, that his
friends it rejoiced them well.
And the men of Gramoflanz spake thus, that never the sun had
shone
On a knight who fought so bravely, or such gallant deeds had
done;
And whatever feats of knighthood had been wrought on either
side, 495
Yet he, o'er all other heroes, the victor should still abide.
Yet they knew not of whom they spake thus, nay, neither his
race or name,
Tho' the army it rang with his praises, and no mouth but
declared his fame.
Then Gramoflanz did they counsel, King Arthur he well might
pray
To take good heed to his army that no knight from his ranks
should stray 500
For combat, as e'en that morning, but to send unto him _one_
knight,
The son of King Lot, Sir Gawain, for with _him_ had he come
to fight.
And straightway he sent the message by two courtly lads and
wise,
And he spake, 'Now look well for the maiden who is fairest in
all men's eyes,
Look well by whom Bené sitteth; and so ye play well your
part, 505
Ye shall see in what wise she bear her, if joyful, or sad at
heart.
Ye shall prove these her ways in secret, in her eyes ye right
well may see
If yet for a friend she mourneth; and this too your task
shall be,
Ye shall give to my friend, fair Bené, this letter and golden
ring,
She knoweth for whom is the token--Now see that ye do this
thing!' 510
In the other camp, the meanwhile, did Itonjé the tidings hear
That her gallant brother, Gawain, and he whom her soul held
dear,
The fairest knight that a maiden within her heart might hold,
Would fight, the one with the other, and their hand might no
man withhold.
Then her maiden shame it yielded to the flood of her grief so
sore, 515
And none shall rejoice at her sorrow, for the pain undeserved
she bore.
Then her mother and Queen Arnivé they led the maid aside
To a tent so small and silken, and Arnivé her grief would
chide,
And she bade her cease her weeping--There was naught that the
maid might say,
But to speak aloud the secret she hid in her heart alway; 520
Then out quoth the royal maiden, 'Of my brother shall he be
slain
Who is lord of my heart and my true love! Let his hand from
such deed refrain!'
To a noble youth spake Arnivé, 'Now get thee unto my son,
And bid him come hither quickly, with him would I speak
alone.'
Then the lad he brought King Arthur--Now this was Arnivé's
mind, 525
If she told unto him the story perchance he might counsel
find,
And by him should that strife be hindered, for which the
maiden fair
So sorely wept, and such sorrow and anguish of heart must
bear.
Now they came to the camp of King Arthur, who Gramoflanz'
message bore,
By the silken tent they dismounted; there sat Bené before the
door, 530
And within spake the maid to King Arthur, 'If my brother
shall slay my king
To pleasure his faithless Duchess, doth he deem that shall
honour bring?
He might know of himself it were ill-done--He hath wronged
him no whit I ween,
That he doeth to _me_ true service, his safety might well
have been!
If my brother be yet in his senses he doth of our true love
know, 535
How pure it is, and how faithful, and this venture should
work him woe.
A bitter death shall it bring me, the hand that my love doth
kill--
Sir King, thou shalt mourn my sorrow, and I think not that
such thy will,'
Spake the fair maid unto King Arthur, 'Forget not that thou
shalt be
Mine uncle, and stay this combat which worketh such ill to
me!' 540
Quoth Arthur aloud in his wisdom, 'Alas, thou fair niece of
mine,
That thus young thou canst love so dearly, for sorrow shall
sure be thine,
As sorrow befell thy sister, Surdamur, for her love so true
To the Emperor of Greece--Sweet maiden, thy will might I
surely do,
And hinder this strife, if I knew well that ye twain were but
one in heart-- 540
Yet King Irot's son, he is valiant, and courage in him hath
part,
And this combat he'll fight, full surely, an Love stay not
his hand so bold--
Did he ne'er, in a joyful moment, thy fair face and sweet
lips behold?'
And she spake, 'Nay, we love, but neither as yet hath the
other seen,
Tho' of true love many a token from his hand hath my portion
been. 550
And tokens true have I sent him, that no doubt should betwixt
us lie--
No falsehood my king's heart ruleth, but he loveth me
steadfastly!'
Then the maiden Bené saw them, and knew them, the squires
twain
Who came to the court of King Arthur from Gramoflanz' kingly
train,
And she spake, 'Here should no man linger, will ye that I bid
them go, 555
The folk, from our tent? It were ill-done, methinks, that all
men should know
How sorely my lady sorroweth for the sake of her love so
dear;
Methinks it might lightly happen that too many the tale
should hear!'
Then forth from the tent went Bené, and in secret unto her
care
The squire gave the folded letter, and the golden ring he
bare, 560
And they, too, had heard the wailing of the maid, and they
knew full well
Why she sorrowed, and this their errand they fain to the king
would tell.
And they asked of the maiden Bené if she their friend would
be?
And she spake, 'Stand without the circle till I bid ye to
come to me!'
Then Bené, the gentle maiden, she told them within the tent 565
That without two squires were waiting, from Gramoflanz hither
sent,
And fain would they speak with King Arthur--'But unfitting it
seemeth me
That we call them unto our counsels, and that witnesses they
should be.
On my lady must I avenge me, if thus they shall see her weep,
I bade them await my bidding, and without there their station
keep!' 570
Quoth Arthur, 'Are they the pages whom I saw behind me ride?
Of noble birth shall the twain be, methinks, it might well
betide
That so wise are they both and courteous they might give us
counsel good,
Methinks of their king's love either would treat in a fitting
mood?'
Quoth Bené, 'Nay, that I know not, but Sire, of thy grace,
this ring 575
And the letter which now I bring thee, they bare hither from
their king.
As but now I left the pavilion, of the pages, one gave it me.
Now see, Lady, do thou take it, for methinks it is meant for
thee!'
Then Itonjé, she kissed the letter, and she held it unto her
heart,
And she quoth, 'Now, Sire, thou canst see here if he would in
my love have part.' 580
In his hand Arthur took the letter, and within he found
written fair
The words of one who loveth, and his passion would fain
declare.
For Gramoflanz' hand had written the words that his lips
would say,
And Arthur, he saw by the letter that Love held o'er his
heart such sway
That ne'er had he known aforetime one who loved with so true
a love-- 585
And the words that within were written Frau Minne might well
approve.
'Now greeting to whom I owe greeting, whose greeting I fain
would earn,
To thee, O thou gracious maiden, whose heart toward my heart
doth turn!
Who with comfort would fain console me--Our love goeth
hand-in-hand,
And the solace thy love would bring me doth high o'er all
solace stand; 590
And my joy in thy love is rooted, and my faith is to thee
held fast,
And sorrow and bitter anguish shall forth from my heart be
cast.
And thou bringest me help and counsel, so that never an evil
thought
Or a faithless deed, and shameful, shall against my fame be
brought.
But I look on thy truth and thy beauty with ever a steadfast
mind, 595
As the Pole-star doth in the north pole the goal of its
gazing find,
And neither its post forsaketh; e'en so shall our true love
be,
And waver not, one from the other--So think thou, sweet maid,
on me,
How I mourned unto thee my sorrow, nor be weary of this my
prayer--
And if one would part thee from me, for the hatred that he
shall bear 600
Unto me, then shalt thou bethink thee how thy love shall
reward us both,
And think thou of woman's honour, nor be of thy favours loth;
But still let me be thy servant, in thy service I fain would
live,
And, in all that I may, true service I will to my lady give!'
Quoth Arthur, 'Fair niece, thou saidst truly, he greeteth
thee without guile 605
Such tale doth this letter tell me that never, at any while,
Have I found of true love such marvel! His grief shalt thou
put away,
As he too shall cure thy sorrow, so do thou thy weeping stay,
And trust unto me, this combat shall be hindered--Yet say
thou here,
Thou wert captive, how hath it chanced then that ye hold each
other dear? 610
Thou shalt give him thy fair love's payment, that he do thee
service true.'--
Spake Itonjé, 'See, here she standeth who us twain together
drew,
Our love, it had else been hidden--If thou will that I now
may see
Him whom my heart desireth she will summon him unto me!'
Quoth Arthur, 'Now, show her to me; if I may, I this thing
will guide 615
That your will shall be done, and hereafter ye twain shall in
joy abide!'
Quoth Itonjé, ''Twas none but Bené; and two of his squires
are here,
If thou wilt, do this thing, (for I think me my life shall to
thee be dear,)
Thou shalt see that the king cometh hither, that he looketh
upon my face
In whom all my joy is hidden, and my life shall be in his
grace!' 620
Then Arthur, the wise and courteous, would speak with the
squires without,
He greeted them as he saw them, and boldly the one spake out,
'Sire, King Gramoflanz, he prays thee, for thine honour as
knight and king,
That the oath sworn 'twixt him and Gawain thou wilt to
fulfilment bring.
And further, Sire, he prays thee that none other with him
shall fight, 625
So great is thine host, must he face _all_, methinks it would
scarce be right!
But _Gawain_ shalt thou send against him, for he willeth no
other foe,
And Gawain alone hath he challenged, as thyself thou shalt
surely know!'
Quoth King Arthur unto the pages, 'I will free us from blame
alway,
And sorely it grieved my nephew that he fought not the strife
to-day. 630
And the knight who fought with your monarch, to victory was
he born,
The son of Gamuret is he--Three armies are here this morn,
And from many a land came they hither, but never a man hath
seen
In combat so brave a hero, and glorious his deeds have been.
He is Parzival, my kinsman, ye shall see him, the fair of
face,-- 635
For the faith and the need of Gawain will I do to the king
this grace.'
Then King Arthur and maiden Bené, with the squires they rode
here and there,
And in sooth those squires they looked on full many a lady
fair,
And they saw on the jewelled helmets many proud crests and
knightly wave,
And few for such sight shall vex them, for he who is rich as
brave 640
Full many a friend he findeth! They 'lighted not from their
steed,
And the bravest men of the armies that lay camped on the
flowery mead
King Arthur would show unto them, they might gaze on them at
their will,
Knights, ladies, and gentle maidens, of beauty they saw their
fill!
In three portions it lay, the army, and two spaces there were
between-- 645
Then away from the camp rode King Arthur, far out on the
plain so green,
And he quoth, 'Now sweet maiden Bené, her plaint didst thou
hear alway,
Itonjé, the child of my sister, her weeping she will not
stay.
These my comrades who ride beside me, if they will, they may
well believe
Of her beauty their king hath robbed her, so sorely the maid
doth grieve! 650
Now help me, ye twain, and thou, Bené, that the king he shall
hither ride,
E'en to-day, tho' the strife to-morrow he may, if he will,
abide.
I will bring Gawain to meet him on the plain, as he prayed
but now--
If he cometh to-day to mine army 'gainst the morn is he armed
I trow,
For Love such a shield shall give him that his foeman may ill
withstand 655
The courage that Love doth kindle, and that nerveth anew the
hand.
And his princes shall he bring with him, for here would I do
as best
Doth lie in my power that the Duchess shall hearken to my
behest,
And peace shall be sealed between them--Now strive ye, my
comrades dear,
With skill for such happy ending, 'twill be to your honour
here. 660
And further I make my mourning, wherein shall have been my
sin
That I wrought 'gainst your king that he beareth, in such
measure, against my kin,
Both love alike and hatred? Methinks, he doth hold us light!
Another king, mine equal, had thought more of this my right.
Doth he think to repay with hatred _her_ brother, who loves
him well? 665
If his heart such thought shall teach him, then he knoweth
not true Love's spell!'
Quoth one of the squires to King Arthur, 'What my king did to
thee of ill,
That, Sire, shall he do no longer, for courteous shall he be
still.
But thou knowest well the old hatred, and 'twere better the
king should stay
Within his camp, I think me, than ride to thine host to-day. 670
Of the same mind is still the Duchess, that she counteth him
for her foe,
And maketh her plaint against him, as many a man doth know!'
'With but few folk shall he come hither,' quoth Arthur, 'the
while I'll pray
Of that high and noble lady that her anger she put away.
And an escort good I'll send him, Beau-corps, my sister's
son, 675
Shall meet him half-way, and his journey shall under my care
be done.
Nor as shame shall he look upon it, for brave men and true
I'll send'--
Then leave did they take of King Arthur, and their way to the
camp they wend.
Alone did they leave the monarch, and Bené and the pages
twain
Rode swiftly unto Rosche Sabbins, on the further side of the
plain. 680
'Twas the fairest day of his life-time, so thought the joyful
king,
When his squires and the maiden Bené such tidings to him
might bring.
And e'en as he hearkened to them his heart spake, in sooth
to-day
Good Fortune had thought upon him, and his sorrow was put
away!
Then he spake, 'He would come, right gladly,' and he chose to
him comrades three, 685
A prince of his land was each one who bare the king company.
Brandelidelein, his uncle, with his nephew was fain to ride,
Affinamus of Clitiers, and Count Bernard of Riviers rode
beside.
And each man he chose another who should be for such journey
meet,
And twelve in all might ye reckon who rode hence the king to
greet. 690
And many a squire went with them, and many a footman strong,
Well armèd, as should befit them, did unto the train belong.
Would ye know how the knights had robed them? Of silk was
their raiment bright,
And heavy with gold inwoven that shone in the morning light.
And the king, he went as to hawking, with his falconer by his
side-- 695
Now Arthur had well bethought him, and Beau-corps he bade to
ride,
And half-way to meet the monarch as escort both fit and
fair--
And over the stretch of the meadow, or a pool or a brook lay
there,
Where'er one might find the water rode the king as on pastime
bent,
Yet ever Love drew him onward, and on Love was his heart
intent. 700
And Beau-corps, he rode towards him, and in such wise the
king would greet
That I ween 'twas a joyful moment when the twain and their
folk did meet.
And more than fifty pages with Beau-corps should ride that
day,
And their faces were fair to look on, Dukes and Counts might
they be alway,
And kings' sons, too, rode among them--And the greeting was
good to see, 705
When from either side the children kissed each other, of true
heart free.
And Beau-corps was fair to look on, and the king asked, who
might he be?
And Bené, she straightway answered. 'The son of King Lot is
he,
And _Beau-corps_ the name men call him'--Then he thought, 'Of
a sooth, my heart,
Thou hast found her! For she shall be like him who so
knightly doth play his part, 710
For in truth shall she be his sister, she who sent me the
headgear rare
That of erst was in Sinzester fashioned, and the hawk on mine
hand I bear.
If she further will show me kindness then all earthly power
and pride
Would I count as naught, might I win her, tho' the earth were
twice as wide.
And surely she meaneth truly--For love of her came I here, 715
Hitherto hath she dealt so kindly that methinks I but little
fear;
She will show unto me such favour that my courage shall wax
full high!'
Then he clasped the hand of her brother that fair in his hand
did lie.
In the meanwhile within his army King Arthur in such wise
wrought
That the Duchess was fain to grant him the peace that his
lips had sought. 720
For rich was her consolation for her love by King Gramoflanz
slain,
For whose sake she had borne him hatred; and no more might
her lips complain,
For her anger had sunk to slumber, and she wakened to life
anew
'Neath Gawain's embrace so tender, and her wrath, it was
smitten thro'.
Then Arthur, the king of the Bretons, took many a lady
bright, 725
One hundred, both wife and maiden, who were lovely in all
men's sight,
In a tent apart he set them--Nor might her lot fairer be,
Itonjé, who sat beside them, since her king there she thought
to see.
And ever her heart was joyful, and yet in her soft eyes' glow
Ye might see that the gentle maiden thro' love must sore
sorrow know. 730
And many a knight and hero sat there, yet among them all
No face was so fair to look on as the fair face of Parzival.
To the tent-door up rode the monarch, and Gramoflanz, he ware
For garment a robe of wonder, in Gampfassâsch wroughten fair.
'Twas a rick silk, all gold embroidered, and woven with
golden thread, 735
And a shimmer of light from his vesture afar round the
monarch spread.
Then they who had hither ridden adown from their steeds they
spring,
And the squires, they press them forward to the tent before
their king,
And the chamberlains vie with each other, and they make thro'
the court a way
To the throne where the queen of the Bretons in her glory sat
that day. 740
Brandelidelein, his uncle, before the monarch went,
And the twain, Guinevere she kissed them, and bade welcome
within her tent.
And Count Bernard, and Affinamus a kiss from her lips must
take--
Then to Gramoflanz Arthur turned him, and thus to the king he
spake,
'Ere thou takest thy seat, bethink thee; if thou dost a
maiden love, 745
And thou seest her here, thou mayst kiss her, nor will I such
kiss reprove!'
It had told him which was his lady, the letter he read but
now
In the open field, and that letter, 'twas her brother's face
I trow!
The brother of her who from all men had hidden her love so
true--
And Gramoflanz' eyes beheld her, and straightway his love he
knew, 750
And his heart swelled high within him--Since Arthur had
willed their bliss,
And had bid him in men's sight greet her, on her sweet lips
the maid he kissed.
Brandelidelein, he sat him by the queen, fair Guinevere,
And King Gramoflanz, he was seated by the maid, who with many
a tear
Had dimmed the glow of her beauty; 'twas for his sake she
wept so sore, 755
Nor might he take vengeance on her, since guiltless this woe
she bore.
But softly he spake unto her, and he vowed to her service
true,
And she thanked him for this his coming, and their hearts
toward each other flew,
And further no word they spake there, but they gazed in each
other's eyes,
And their yea and their nay would I tell here, were I but in
Love's language wise. 760
To Brandelidelein quoth Arthur, 'Methinks thou enow hast told
Thy tale in the ears of my lady!' Then he led forth the hero
bold,
To a little tent he led him, apart on the grassy field;
Yet Gramoflanz came not with them, but, e'en as King Arthur
willed,
He abode in the tent with his comrades, and so fair were the
ladies bright, 765
That I deem well to look upon them but little would vex a
knight
And fair was their joy and their pastime, 'twould please many
a man, I trow,
Who to-day, after peril ended, would joy for his sorrow know.
Then wine to the queen and her ladies and to many a knight
they bare,
And, methinks, an enow they tasted, their faces waxed fresh
and fair. 770
To Brandelidelein and King Arthur the cup-bearers wine must
bring;
As they passed from the tent in this wise quoth Arthur, the
goodly king:
'Sir King, say, the conflict ended, if the strife in such
wise have run
That the king, the son of thy sister, shall have slain my
sister's son,
Yet would woo my niece, the maiden who maketh to him her moan 775
But now, as they sit together and their love for each other
own;
If she do as shall best beseem her, she will favour him never
more,
But will give him for payment hatred as shall vex the king
full sore
If her love he yet desireth--for where love is o'ercome by
hate
Then joy from true hearts is banished, and desire doth with
sorrow mate!' 780
Then out spake the King of Punturtois to Arthur of Brittany,
'Sir King, they are sons to our sisters betwixt whom this
hate shall be.
'Tis our part this strife to hinder, nor other shall be its
end
Save that they twain shall love each other, and from foe
shall be turned to friend.
'Twere best that thy niece, Itonjé, ere she yield to my
nephew's prayer, 785
Shall say, if in truth he love her he shall from this strife
forbear.
Thus an end shall be put to the combat, and the quarrel shall
turn to peace--
And thou, thou shalt pray the Duchess that her wrath 'gainst
my nephew cease!'
'Yea, that have I done,' quoth Arthur, 'my sister's son,
Gawain,
He holdeth such power o'er the lady, that, as courtesy doth
constrain, 790
For his sake and mine she forgiveth the ill that the king
hath done--
Now do thou thy part with thy nephew, that peace on his side
be won.'
Brandelidelein quoth straightway, 'I will do e'en as thou
dost say'--
And back to the tent and the feasting the monarchs they took
their way.
Then sat the King of Punturtois on one side of the gracious
queen, 795
And Parzival sat on the other, and so fair was his face, I
ween,
That never a man so goodly their eyes had beheld afore--
Then Arthur, the king, he rose up, and he gat him from out
the door,
And he sought Gawain, his nephew; then he, who a while must
hear
How his foemen had ridden hither, learnt that Arthur now drew
anear, 800
And before his tent dismounted--Then swift did Sir Gawain
spring,
And forth from the tent on the meadow he hastened to meet the
king.
Then counsel they took together, and the Duchess, she peace
would swear,
But not otherwise save that Gawain for her sake should this
strife forbear.
Then should Gramoflanz be forgiven, if _he_, too, would
forgive the ill 805
Once done by King Lot, her kinsman--so Arthur should speak
her will.
Then Arthur the wise and courteous, he brought the tale
again,
And King Gramoflanz, for his garland, henceforward must mourn
in vain.
And his hatred to Lot of Norway it passed as the snow flakes
melt
In the sun, 'neath the glance of Itonjé, and anger no more he
felt. 810
And the while he sat beside her he said to her bidding,
yea,--
Then they spake, Gawain came hither with his knights in brave
array,
And their names I may not tell ye, nor the land in which each
was born;
But here love had banished sorrow, and sadness was overworn.
Then the Duchess, Orgelusé, and her gallant men and true, 815
With part of the host of Klingsor, with Gawain nearer drew;
And the covering 'gainst wind and weather from the king's
tent they took away,
And thither came good Arnivé with Sangivé and Kondrie alway,
They came at King Arthur's bidding where men words of peace
would speak,
(He who counteth this but a small thing, at his will may a
greater seek.) 820
Then Iofreit, Gawain's comrade, by her white hand, within the
tent
Led the Duchess, fair and stately, and on this was she
courteous bent,
That the three queens should go before her--Brandelidelein
they kissed,
Then she followed, proud Orgelusé, nor the monarch her
greeting missed.
Then Gramoflanz stepped towards her, atonement he fain would
make, 825
From her sweet lips the kiss of forgiveness as token of peace
he'ld take;
And the lady was moved to weeping, for she thought of her
true love slain,
And the faith and the sorrow of women did her heart to such
woe constrain.
Then Gramoflanz and Sir Gawain with a kiss put an end to
strife;
And Arthur gave maid Itonjé to King Gramoflanz to wife, 830
For truly and long had he served her; and Bené was glad that
day--
And another for love's sake sorrowed, and his sorrow was put
away,
For Lischois, the Duke of Gowerzein, won fair Kondrie for his
own,
And, I ween, were her love not his portion his life little
joy had known.
To the Turkowit, brave Florant, as his wife King Arthur gave 835
Her who wedded King Lot aforetime, and her love a man well
might crave;
'Twas a gift such as love beseemeth, and the knight took it
joyfully--
For the king, he was aye free-handed, and he gave such gifts
readily!
To this end had he well bethought him, and counsel wise had
ta'en,
And soon as his speech was ended, the Duchess, she spake
again, 840
And she said that her love Sir Gawain had conquered with
valiant hand,
And henceforth he of right was master alike of her life and
land.
And many a knight who hearkened he thought her speech ill to
hear,
For they fought for her love, and had broken in her service
full many a spear.
Gawain, and they who rode with him, Arnivé, and the Duchess
fair, 845
And many a lovely lady prayed leave of the monarch there.
And Parzival, he went with them--Sangivé and maid Kondrie
They rode hence, but with King Arthur she abode still, fair
Itonjé.
And the wedding feast that was holden was a feast beyond
compare;
And Guinevere took Itonjé, and her true love, within her
care, 850
The gallant king who with knighthood full many a prize had
won,
And for love and desire of Itonjé full many brave deeds had
done.
And many they sought their lodging who for love's sake must
sorrow sore;
And how that night they had feasted, of that will we think no
more--
But they who for love did service, who knew of true love the
might, 855
They would that the day was ended, for fairer they deemed the
night.
Then King Gramoflanz sent this message (he bethought him in
his pride)
To his men, who, before Rosche-Sabbins, lay camped by the
water-side.
They should spare nor pains nor labour, but their tents
should they strike straightway,
And hither, with all his army, should they hasten ere break
of day. 860
And his marshal here must seek him a fitting place and fair--
'Each prince by himself be encamped, and ye shall for myself
prepare
Such goodly state and royal as well shall beseem a king,
Nor spare ye the cost'--'Twas nightfall ere this word to the
host they bring.
And many a man must sorrow who had learnt from a woman woe,-- 865
Whose love to the winds is scattered, and who ne'er doth
rewarding know
For his service, to grief he speedeth, and naught shall his
steps delay,
Save only the help of a woman o'ertaketh him on his way.
But Parzival, he bethought him of his wife so fair and sweet,
How pure she was, and how gentle--Did he ne'er another greet, 870
And offer for fair love service, and, wavering, love anew?
Nay, nay, he was far from such dealings, and naught of such
love he knew!
For a mighty faith so guarded his body alike and heart
That never a woman living might have in his love a part,
Save only his queen and lady, Kondwiramur, the flower 875
Of women, Love's fairest blossom, with none should she share
her power.
And he thought, 'Since to Love I wakened but ill hath Love
dealt with me,
Of Love was I born, how comes it that I must from her
presence flee?
Tho' my hand for the Grail be seeking yet desire it doth rend
my heart,
And I yearn for her sweet embraces; ah, too long have we
dwelt apart! 880
Shall I look with mine eyes on rejoicing while my heart seeth
naught but woe?
The twain fit but ill together, and no man thereby shall know
High courage, a knight befitting--Now Good Fortune direct my
way,
And show me what best beseemeth!' His harness before him lay,
And he thought, 'Since to me that lacketh with which others
are richly blest,-- 885
The love in whose sweet fulfilment many sad hearts have found
their rest--
Since this sorrow must be my portion I care not what else my
lot,
Little reck I what shall befall me, since my joy Heaven
willeth not!
And thou, for whose love I am yearning, were it so both with
me and thee,
That our hearts ever dreamed of parting, nor our love from
all doubt were free, 890
It might well be that with another joy and blessing again
were mine,
But thy love it so fast doth hold me, I may rest on no heart
but thine!
And for aye am I Sorrow's captive! Now Good Fortune bring joy
to all
Who find peace in fair Love's fulfilment, they are blessèd
whate'er befall--
May God give to this folk rejoicing! But I from their joy
must flee, 895
And wend lonely as of aforetime, since gladness is not for
me!'
Then he stretched out his hand to his harness, and as oft was
his wont of yore,
Unaided he girt it on him, and soon was he armed once more.
Now sorrow anew he seeketh--When he, who from joy would fly,
Had armed himself, his charger he saddled right speedily, 900
And his shield and spear were ready--O'er his loss did they
wail next morn,
For no eye looked on his departing, he rode thence ere the
day was born.
BOOK XV
FEIREFIS
ARGUMENT
Book XV. tells how Parzival met with a mighty heathen, with whom
he
fought fiercely, and how he was well-nigh vanquished. How he
found the
heathen to be his brother, Feirefis Angevin, and how the twain
rode
together to the court of King Arthur.
Of the welcome given to Feirefis by King Arthur and his knights;
of his
riches; and of the kings conquered by the two brothers.
How a feast of the Round Table was holden, and how Kondrie bare
tidings
of Parzival's election to the Grail Kingdom, and summoned him,
his
wife, and his son Lohengrin, to Monsalväsch; and how Parzival and
Feirefis rode thither with Kondrie as their guide.
BOOK XV
FEIREFIS
Now many were sorely angered that I told not this tale afore
Since it wearied them naught in the hearing--Now my words I
withhold no more,
But I give ye to wit full truly, as my mouth may the story
tell,
The end of this wondrous venture for methinks it shall please
ye well.
Ye shall know how the king, Anfortas, of his wound was made
whole again-- 5
Of the queen doth the venture tell us, who in far Pelrapär
did reign;
How she kept a pure heart and loyal till the day of her great
reward,
And earth's fairest crown was her guerdon at the hand of her
faithful lord.
Ye shall hear the tale of its winning, if my skill fail me
not alway;
Yet first must ye list the labour that Parzival wrought that
day. 10
Now, tho' dauntless his hand had striven, but as children his
foemen all,
And ne'er would I risk my hero might I rule that which shall
befall.
I must sorrow sore for his peril, and fain would I speak him
free,
But now must I trust that Good Fortune the shield of his
heart may be.
For purity, and high courage, side by side in his heart they
lay, 15
And ne'er had he cherished cowardice, nor shrunk from the
knightly fray;
And I deem this shall surely give him such strength he his
life may hold,
Since fierce strife draweth nigh unto him, and his foe is a
hero bold.
For he meeteth a prince of battles who dauntless to strife
doth ride,
And unbaptized was the foeman who rode here in his heathen
pride. 20
Full soon had he come, our hero, to a mighty woodland shade,
And without, in the light of the dawning, his armour a knight
displayed.
'Twere a marvel could I, a poor man, of the riches now speak
to ye
That the heathen he bare as his decking, so costly their
worth should be.
If more than enough I told ye, yet more would be left to
tell; 25
Yet I would not his wealth were hidden--What of riches, I
ween, shall dwell
In Bretagne alike and England, and be tribute to Arthur's
might,
They had paid not the stones that, shining, glowed fair on
his armour bright.
His blazoned coat was costly, and naught but the truth I say,
Ruby and Chalcedony, ye had held them not fair that day. 30
And bright as the sun was his vesture, on the mount of
Agremontein,
In the glowing fires, Salamanders had welded that garment's
shine.
There jewels rare and precious, with never a fault or flaw,
Glowed dark and light; of their nature, I ween, I can tell no
more!
His desire was for love's rewarding, and the winning of high
renown, 35
He had won from the hands of fair women the jewels that his
pride did crown.
For the favour Frau Minne showed him with joy did his proud
heart beat,
And it swelled high with manly courage, as is for a lover
meet.
As reward for his deeds of knighthood on his helmet a beast
he bare,
Ecidemon, all poisonous serpents they must of its power
beware, 40
For of life and of strength doth it rob them, if they smell
it but from afar--
Thopedissimonté, Assigarzionté, Thasmé, and Arabia,
They scarce of such silk might boast them as was covering for
his steed--
He sought, that mighty heathen, in a woman's love his meed,
And therefore he bravely decked him, and fain would his
courage prove, 45
And his manhood, it urged him onward to battle for sake of
love.
Now the knight, so young and gallant, in a haven beside the
wood,
But little known, on the water had anchored his ships so
good.
And his armies were five-and-twenty, and they knew not each
other's speech--
'Twas a token fair of his riches, and the lands that his
power might reach, 50
As the armies, so were the kingdoms that did service unto his
hand--
And Moors and Saracens were they, and unlike was each warlike
band,
And the hue of their skins was diverse--Thus gathered from
lands afar
Ye might see in his mighty army strange weapons of heathen
war.
So thus, in search of adventure, from his army this man would
ride, 55
In the woodland green he wandered, and waited what should
betide.
And since thus it well doth please them, so let them ride,
these kings,
Alone, in search of ventures, and the fair fame that combat
brings.
Yet Parzival rode not lonely, methinks he had comrades twain,
Himself, and the lofty courage that lord o'er his soul did
reign. 60
And that he so bravely fought here might win from a woman
praise,
If falsehood should not mislead her, that injustice should
rule her ways.
So spurred they against each other, who were lambs in their
purity,
Yet as lions were they bold and dauntless, 'twas a sight for
a man to see!
Ah! woe is me for their meeting, for the world and its ways
are wide, 65
And they well might have spared each other, nor, guiltless,
to battle ride.
I should sorrow for him whom I brought here, save my heart
did this comfort hold,
That the Grail shall with strength endue him, and Love
shelter the hero bold,
Since he was of the twain the servant, nor his heart ever
wavering knew,
And ever his hand was ready to serve them with service true. 70
My skill little wit doth give me this combat that here
befell,
In fitting words and knightly, from beginning to end to tell.
But the eye of each flashed triumph as the coming foe he saw,
And the heart of each knight waxed joyful, as they nearer to
battle draw.
Yet sorrow, I ween, was nigh them, true hearts, from all
falsehood free, 75
And each bare the heart of the other, and should comrade and
stranger be!
Nor may I asunder part them, the paynim and Christian knight,
Hatred they show to each other, tho' no cause have they here
for fight.
And methinks this of joy shall rob them, who, as true women,
share their pain
Who risk their lives for a woman! May they part, ere one here
be slain! 80
As the lion-cub, that its mother beareth dead, doth to life
awake
At the aweful voice of its father, so these twain, as the
spear-shafts break
Arouse to fresh life, and to honour, I ween, are they newly
born,
For many a joust have they ridden and many a spear outworn.
Then they tighten the hanging bridle, and they take to their
aim good care, 85
That each on the shield of the other, as he willeth, shall
smite him fair.
And no point do they leave unguarded, and they give to their
seat good heed,
As men who are skilled in jousting, and sharply each spurs
his steed.
And bravely the joust was ridden, and each gorget asunder
broke,
And the spears bent not, but in splinters they flew from each
mighty stroke; 90
And sore was he wroth, the heathen, that this man might his
joust abide,
For never a knight but had fallen who a course 'gainst his
spear would ride.
Think ye that their swords they wielded as their chargers
together drew?
Yea, the combat was sharp and bitter, and each must give
proof anew
Alike of his skill and his manhood--The strange beast,
Ecidemon, 95
Had many a wound, and beneath it the helmet sore blows had
won;
And the horses were hot and wearied, and many new turns they
tried--
Then down they sprung from their chargers, and their
sword-blades afresh they plied.
And the heathen wrought woe to the Christian, 'Thasmé!' was
his battle-cry,
And when 'Tabronit!' he shouted he drew ever a step anigh. 100
And the Christian, he showed his valour in many an onslaught
bold;
So pressed they upon each other--Nor would I the tale
withhold
Of how the fight was foughten, yet must I the strife bemoan,
How, one flesh and one blood thus sharing, each wrought evil
unto his own;
For both were the sons of one father, and brothers, I ween,
were they, 105
And methinks upon such foundation faith and friendship their
stone should lay!
And love ne'er had failed the heathen, and his heart was for
combat fain,
For the love of Queen Sekundillé fresh honour he thought to
gain;
Tribalibot's land she gave him, and she was his shield in
strife--
So bravely he fought, how think ye that the Christian might
guard his life? 110
On love let his thoughts be steadfast, else sure is he here
undone,
And he hath from the hand of the heathen in this combat his
death-blow won.
O thou Grail, by thy lofty virtue such fate from thy knight
withhold!
Kondwiramur, thine husband in such deadly stress behold!
Here he standeth, of both the servant, in such danger and
peril sore 115
That as naught ye may count the ventures he hath dared for
your sake of yore!
Then on high flashed the sword of the heathen, and many such
blow had slain,
To his knee Parzival was beaten--Now see how they fought, the
twain,
If twain ye will still account them, yet in sooth shall they
be but one,
For my brother and I are one body, e'en as husband and wife
are one! 120
The heathen wrought woe to the Christian--Of Asbestos, I
ween, his shield,
That wondrous wood that never to flame or decay shall yield;
I' sooth, right well she loved him who gave him a gift so
fair,
Turquoise, Chrysoprase, Emerald, Ruby, rich jewels beyond
compare
Decked with shining lines its surface, on the boss shone a
precious stone, 125
Antrax, afar they call it, as Carbuncle it here is known.
And as token of love, for his guarding, Sekundillé the queen
would give
That wondrous beast, Ecidemon--in her favour he fain would
live,
And e'en as she willed he bare it, as his badge, did that
gallant knight--
Here with purity faith joined issue, and truth with high
truth would fight. 130
For love's sake upon the issue of this combat each risked his
life,
Each had pledged his hand to the winning of honour and fame
in strife;
And the Christian, in God he trusted since the day that he
rode away
From the hermit, whose faithful counsel had bidden him trust
alway
In Him who could turn his sorrow into bliss without thought
of bale-- 135
To Him should he pray for succour, whose succour should never
fail.
And fierce and strong was the heathen, when 'Tabronit,' he
cried,
For there, 'neath the mount Kaukasus did the queen,
Sekundillé', abide;
Thus gained he afresh high courage 'gainst him who ne'er knew
of yore
The weight of such deadly combat, for in sooth was he pressed
full sore-- 140
To defeat was he aye a stranger, and ne'er had he seen its
face,
Tho' his foemen right well must know it, as they yielded them
to his grace!
With skill do they wield their weapons, and sparks spring
from the helmets fair,
And a whistling wind ariseth as the blades cleave the summer
air;
God have Gamuret's son in His keeping! and the prayer it
shall stand for both, 145
For the twain shall be one nor, I think me, to own it were
either loth.
For had they but known each other their stake ne'er had been
so great,
For blessing, and joy, and honour, were risked on that
combat's fate,
For he who shall here be victor, if true brother and knight
he be,
Of all this world's joy is he forfeit, nor from grief may his
heart be free! 150
Sir Parzival, why delay thee to think on thy queen and wife,
Her purity and her beauty, if here thou wouldst save thy
life?
For the heathen, he bare two comrades who kindled his
strength anew,
The one, in his strong heart, steadfast, lay ever a love so
true;
And the other, the precious jewels that burnt with a mystic
glow, 155
Thro' whose virtue his strength waxed greater, and his heart
must fresh courage know.
And it grieveth me sore that the Christian was weary and
faint with fight,
Nor swiftly might he avoid him, and his blows they were
robbed of might;
And if the twain fail to aid thee, O thou gallant Parzival,
Thy queen and the Grail, then I think me this thought it
shall help thee well, 160
Shall thy fair babes thus young be orphaned? Kardeiss and
Lohengrin,
Whom thy wife, e'en as thou didst leave her, for her joy and
her hope must win--
For children thus born in wedlock, the pledge of a love so
pure,
I ween are a man's best blessing, and a joy that shall aye
endure!
New strength did he win, the Christian, and he thought, none
too soon, I ween, 165
On his love so true and faithful, on Kondwiramur, his queen,
How he won his wife at the sword's point, when sparks from
the helm did spring
'Neath the mighty blows he dealt him, Klamidé, the warrior
king.
'Tabronit! and Thasmé!' and above them rung clear his
battle-cry,
'Pelrapär!' as aloud he cried it to his aid did his true love
fly, 170
O'er kingdoms four she sought him, and her love gave him
strength anew,
And lo! from the shield of the heathen the costly splinters
flew,
Each one a hundred marks' worth--and the sword so strong and
keen
That Ither of Gaheviess bare first brake sheer on the
helmet's sheen,
And the stranger, so rich and valiant, he stumbled, and
sought his knee-- 175
For God, He no longer willed it that Parzival lord should be
Of this weapon of which in his folly he had robbed a gallant
knight--
Then up sprang afresh the heathen who ne'er before fell in
fight,
Not yet is the combat ended, and the issue for both shall
stand
In the power of the God of battles, and their life lieth in
His hand! 180
And a gallant knight was the heathen, and he spake out, right
courteously,
(Tho' the tongue was the tongue of a heathen yet in fair
French his speech should be,)
'Now I see well, thou gallant hero, thou hast no sword
wherewith to fight,
And the fame shall be small I win me if I fight with an
unarmed knight,
But rest thee awhile from conflict, and tell me who thou
shalt be, 185
For the fame that so long I cherished it surely had fallen to
thee
Had the blow not thy sword-blade shattered--Now, let peace be
betwixt us twain,
And our wearied limbs will we rest here ere we get us to
strife again.'
Then down on the grass they sat them, and courteous and brave
were they,
Nor too young nor too old for battle--fit foemen they were
that day! 190
Then the heathen, he spake to the Christian, 'Believe me, Sir
Knight, that ne'er
Did I meet with a man so worthy the crown of such fame to
bear
As a knight in strife may win him--Now, I prithee, tell thou
to me
Thy name, and thy race, that my journey may here not
unfruitful be!
Quoth the son of fair Herzeleide, 'Thro' _fear_ shall I tell
my name? 195
For thou askest of me such favour as a victor alone may
claim!'
Spake the heathen prince from Thasmé, 'Then that shame shall
be mine, I ween,
For first will I speak my title, and the name that mine own
hath been;
"Feirefis Angevin" all men call me, and such riches are mine,
I trow,
That the folk of full many a kingdom 'neath my sceptre as
vassals bow!' 200
Then, e'en as the words were spoken, to the heathen quoth
Parzival,
'How shall "_Angevin_" be thy title, since as heirdom to _me_
it fell,
Anjou, with its folk and its castles, its lands and its
cities fair?
Nay, choose thee some other title, if thou, courteous,
wouldst hear my prayer!
If thro' thee I have lost my kingdom, and the fair town
Béalzenan, 205
Then wrong hadst thou wrought upon me ere ever our strife
began!
If one of us twain is an Angevin then by birthright that one
am I!--
And yet, of a truth, was it told me, that afar 'neath an
Eastern sky,
There dwelleth a dauntless hero, who, with courage and
knightly skill,
Such love and such fame hath won him that he ruleth them at
his will. 210
And men say, he shall be my brother--and that all they who
know his name
Account him a knight most valiant, and he weareth the crown
of fame!'
In a little space he spake further, 'If, Sir Knight, I thy
face might see,
I should know if the truth were told me, if in sooth thou art
kin to me.
Sir Knight, wilt thou trust mine honour, then loosen thine
helmet's band, 215
I will swear till once more thou arm thee to stay from all
strife mine hand!
Then out he spake, the heathen, 'Of such strife have I little
fear,
For e'en were my body naked, my sword, I still hold it here!
Of a sooth must thou be the vanquished, for since broken
shall be thy sword
What availeth thy skill in combat keen death from thine heart
to ward, 220
Unless, of free will, I spare thee? For, ere thou couldst
clasp me round,
My steel, thro' the iron of thy harness, thy flesh and thy
bone had found!'
Then the heathen, so strong and gallant, he dealt as a knight
so true,
'Nor mine nor thine shall this sword be!' and straight from
his hand it flew,
Afar in the wood he cast it, and he quoth, 'Now, methinks,
Sir Knight, 225
The chance for us both shall be equal, if further we think to
fight!'
Quoth Feirefis, 'Now, thou hero, by thy courteous breeding
fair,
Since in sooth thou shalt have a brother, say, what face doth
that brother bear?
And tell me here of his colour, e'en as men shall have told
it thee.'
Quoth the Waleis, 'As written parchment, both black and white
is he, 230
For so hath Ekuba told me.' 'Then that brother am I alway,'
Quoth the heathen--Those knights so gallant, but little they
made delay,
But they loosed from their heads the helmet, and they made
them of iron bare,
And Parzival deemed that he found there a gift o'er all
others fair,
For straightway he knew the other, (as a magpie, I ween, his
face,) 235
And hatred and wrath were slain here in a brotherly embrace.
Yea, friendship far better 'seemed them, who owed to one sire
their life,
Than anger, methinks, and envy--Truth and Love made an end of
strife.
Then joyful he spake, the heathen, 'Now well shall it be with
me,
And I thank the gods of my people that Gamuret's son I see. 240
Blest be Juno, the queen of heaven, since, methinks, she hath
ruled it so,
And Jupiter, by whose virtue and strength I such bliss may
know,
Gods and goddesses, I will love ye, and worship your strength
for aye--
And blest be those shining planets, 'neath the power of whose
guiding ray
I hither have made my journey--For ventures I here would
seek, 245
And found _thee_, brother, sweet and aweful, whose strong
hand hath made me weak.
And blest be the dew, and the breezes, that this morning my
brow have fanned.
Ah! thou courteous knight who holdest love's key in thy
valiant hand!
Ah! happy shall be the woman whose eyes on thy face shall
light,
Already is bliss her portion who seeth so fair a sight!' 250
'Ye speak well, I would fain speak better of a full heart,
had I the skill;
Yet alas! for I lack the wisdom, tho' God knoweth, of right
goodwill
The fame of your worth and valour by my words would I higher
raise,
And as eye, and as heart should serve me, the twain, they
should speak your praise;
As your fame and your glory lead them, so behind in your
track they fare-- 255
And ne'er from the hand of a foeman such peril hath been my
share
As the peril your hand hath wrought me! and sooth are these
words I say.'
In this wise quoth the knight of Kanvoleis; yet Feirefis
spake alway;
'With wisdom and skill, I wot well, hath Jupiter fashioned
thee,
Thou true and gallant hero! Nor thy speech shall thus distant
be, 260
For "_ye_" thou shalt no more call me, of one sire did we
spring we twain.'
And with brotherly love he prayed him he would from such
speech refrain
And henceforward '_thou_' to call him, yet Parzival deemed it
ill,
And he spake, 'Now, your riches, brother, shall be e'en as
the Baruch's still,
And ye of us twain are the elder, my poverty and my youth 265
They forbid me "_thou_" to call ye, or discourteous were I in
truth.
Then the Prince of Tribalibot, joyful, with many a word would
praise
His god, Jupiter, and to Juno thanksgiving he fain would
raise,
Since so well had she ruled the weather, that the port to
which he was bound
He had safely reached, and had landed, and there had a
brother found. 270
Side by side did they sit together, and neither forgot the
grace
Of courtesy, to the other, each knight fain had yielded
place.
Then the heathen spake, 'My brother, wilt thou sail with me
to my land,
Then two kingdoms, rich and powerful, will I give thee into
thine hand.
Thy father and mine, he won them when King Eisenhart's life
was run, 275
Zassamank and Assagog are they--to no man he wrong hath done,
Save in that he left me orphaned--of the ill that he did that
day
As yet have I not avenged me, for an ill deed it was alway.
For his wife, the queen who bare me, thro' her love must she
early die,
When she knew herself love-bereavèd, and her lord from her
land did fly. 280
Yet gladly that knight would I look on, for his fame hath
been told to me
As the best of knights, and I journey my father's face to
see!'
Then Parzival made him answer, 'Yea I, too, I saw him ne'er;
Yet all men they speak well of him, and his praises all lands
declare,
And ever in strife and conflict to better his fame he knew, 285
And his valour was high exalted, and afar from him falsehood
flew.
And women he served so truly that all true folk they praised
his name,
And all that should deck a Christian lent honour unto his
fame,
For his faith it for aye stood steadfast, and all false deeds
did he abhor,
But followed his true heart's counsel--Thus ever I heard of
yore 290
From the mouth of all men who knew him, that man ye were fain
to see,
And I ween ye would do him honour if he yet on this earth
might be,
And sought for fame as aforetime--The delight of all women's
eyes
Was he, till king Ipomidon with him strove for knighthood's
prize,
At Bagdad the joust was ridden, and there did his valiant
life 295
For love's sake become death's portion, and there was he
slain in strife;
In a knightly joust we lost him from whose life do we spring,
we twain;
If here ye would seek our father, then the seas have ye
sailed in vain!'
'Alas, for the endless sorrow!' quoth the knight. 'Is my
father dead?
Here joy have I lost, tho' it well be that joy cometh in its
stead. 300
In this self-same hour have I lost me great joy, and yet joy
have found,
For myself, and thou, and my father, we three in one bond are
bound;
For tho' men as _three_ may hold us, yet I wot well we are
but _one_,
And no wise man he counts that kinship 'twixt father,
methinks, and son,
For in truth for more must he hold it--With _thyself_ hast
thou fought to-day, 305
To strife with _myself_ have I ridden, and I went near myself
to slay;
Thy valour in good stead stood us, from myself hast thou
saved my life--
Now Jupiter see this marvel, since thy power so hath ruled
the strife
That from death hast thou here withheld us!' Then tears
streamed from his heathen eyes,
As he laughed and wept together--Yea, a Christian such truth
might prize, 310
For our baptism truth should teach us, since there are we
named anew
In the Name of Christ, and all men they hold the Lord Christ
for true!
Quoth the heathen, e'en as I tell ye, 'No longer will we
abide
In this place, but if thou, my brother, for a short space
with me wilt ride,
From the sea to the land will I summon, that their power be
made known to thee, 315
The richest force that Juno e'er guided across the sea.
And in truth, without thought of falsehood, full many a
gallant knight
Will I show thee, who do me service, and beneath my banners
fight,
With me shalt thou ride towards them.' Then Parzival spake
alway,
'Have ye then such power o'er these people that your bidding
they wait to-day 320
And all the days ye are absent?' Quoth the heathen, 'Yea,
even so,
If for half a year long I should leave them, not a man from
the place would go,
Be he rich or poor, till I bade him. Well victualled their
ships shall be,
And neither the horse nor his rider setteth foot on the
grassy lea,
Save only to fetch them water from the fountain that
springeth fair, 325
Or to lead their steeds to the meadow to breathe the fresh
summer air.'
Then Parzival quoth to his brother, 'If it be so, then follow
me
To where many a gracious maiden, and fair pleasures, ye well
may see,
And many a courteous hero who shall be to us both akin--
Near by with a goodly army lieth Arthur, the Breton king, 330
'Twas only at dawn I left them, a great host and fair are
they,
And many a lovely lady shall gladden our eyes to-day.'
When he heard that he spake of women, since he fain for their
love would live,
He quoth, 'Thou shalt lead me thither, but first thou shalt
answer give
To the question I here would ask thee--Of a truth shall we
kinsmen see 335
When we come to the court of King Arthur? For ever 'twas told
to me
That his name it is rich in honour, and he liveth as valiant
knight'--
Quoth Parzival, 'We shall see there full many a lady bright,
Nor fruitless shall be our journey, our own folk shall we
find there,
The men of whose race we have sprung, men whose head shall a
king's crown bear.' 340
Nor longer the twain would sit there, and straightway did
Parzival
Seek again the sword of his brother that afar in the woodland
fell,
And again the hero sheathed it, and all hatred they put away,
And e'en as true friends and brothers together they rode that
day.
Yet ere they might come to King Arthur men had heard of the
twain a tale-- 345
On the self-same day it befell so that the host, they must
sore bewail
The loss of a gallant hero, since Parzival rode away--
Then Arthur, he took good counsel, and he spake, 'Unto the
eighth day
Would they wait for Parzival's coming, nor forth from the
field would fare'--
And hither came Gramoflanz' army, and they many a ring
prepare, 350
And with costly tents do they deck them, and the proud
knights are lodged full well,
Nor might brides e'er win greater honour than here to this
four befell.
Then from Château Merveil rode thither a squire in the
self-same hour,
And he said, in their column mirrored, had they seen in their
fair watch-tower
A mighty fight, and a fearful--'And where'er men with swords
have fought, 355
I wot well, beside this combat their strife shall be held as
naught.'
And the tale did they tell to Gawain, as he sat by King
Arthur's side,
And this knight, and that, spake wondering to whom might such
strife betide?
Quoth Arthur the king, 'Now I wager that I know of the twain
_one_ knight,
'Twas my nephew of Kanvoleis fought there, who left us ere
morning light!' 360
And now, lo the twain rode hither--They had foughten a combat
fair,
As helmet and shield sore dinted with sword-stroke might
witness bear.
And well skilled were the hands that had painted these badges
of strife, I trow,
(For 'tis meet in the lust of combat that a knight's hand
such skill should show,)
Then they rode by the camp of King Arthur--As the heathen
knight rode past 365
Full many a glance of wonder at his costly gear was cast.
And with tents the plain was covered--Then rode they to
Gawain's ring,
And before his tent they halted--Did men a fair welcome
bring,
And lead them within, and gladly behold them? Yea, even so,
And Gawain, he rode swiftly after when he did of their coming
know; 370
For e'en as he sat by King Arthur he saw that his tent they
sought,
And, as fitted a courteous hero, joyful greeting to them he
brought.
And as yet they bare their armour--Then Gawain, the courteous
knight,
He bade his squires disarm them--In the stress of the deadly
fight
Ecidemon, the beast, was cloven; the robe that the heathen
ware 375
In many a place bare token of the blows that had been its
share,
'Twas a silk of Saranthasmé, decked with many a precious
stone,
And beneath, rich, snow-white, blazoned with his bearings his
vesture shone.
And one over against the other stood the gems in a double
row;
By the wondrous Salamanders was it woven in fierce flame's
glow! 380
All this glory a woman gave him, who would stake on his skill
in strife
Her crown alike and her kingdom, as she gave him her love and
life.
'Twas the fair Queen Sekundillé (and gladly he did her will,
And were it for joy or for sorrow he hearkened her bidding
still)
And, e'en as her true heart willed it, of her riches was he
the lord, 385
For her love, as his rightful guerdon, had he won him with
shield and sword.
Then Gawain, he bade his people of the harness to have good
care,
That naught should be moved from its station, shield, or
helmet, or vesture fair.
And in sooth a gift too costly e'en the blazoned coat had
been
If poor were the maid who a love-gift would give to her
knight, I ween, 390
So rich were the stones that decked it, the harness of pieces
four--
And where wisdom with goodwill worketh, and of riches there
be full store,
There love well can deck the loved one! And proud Feirefis,
he strove
With such zeal for the honour of women, he well was repaid by
Love!
And soon as he doffed his harness they gazed on the wondrous
sight, 395
And they who might speak of marvels said, in sooth, that this
heathen knight,
Feirefis, was strange to look on! and wondrous marks he
bore--
Quoth Gawain to Parzival, 'Cousin, I ne'er saw his like
before,
Now who may he be, thy comrade? For in sooth he is strange to
see!'
Quoth Parzival, 'Are we kinsmen, then thy kinsman this knight
shall be, 400
As Gamuret's name may assure thee--Of Zassamank is he king,
There my father he won Belakané who this prince to the world
did bring.'
Then Gawain, he kissed the heathen--Now the noble Feirefis
Was black and white all over, save his mouth was half red, I
wis!
Then they brought to the twain fair raiment, and I wot well
their cost was dear. 405
(They were brought forth from Gawain's chamber.) Then the
ladies, they drew anear,
And the Duchess she bade Sangivé and Kondrie first kiss the
knight
Ere she and Arnivé proffered in greeting their lips so
bright.
And Feirefis gazed upon them, and, methinks, he was glad at
heart
At the sight of their lovely faces, and in joy had he lot and
part. 410
Then Gawain spake to Parzival, 'Cousin, thou hast found a new
battle-field,
If aright I may read the token of thy helmet and splintered
shield,
Sore strife shall have been your comrade, both thine and thy
brother's too!
Say, with whom did ye fight so fiercely?' Then Parzival spake
anew,
'No fiercer fight have I foughten, my brother's hand pressed
me sore 415
To defend me, no charm more potent than defence 'gainst
death's stroke I bore.
As this stranger, whom yet I knew well, I smote, my sword
brake in twain,
Yet no fear did he show, and 'vantage he scorned of mischance
to gain,
For afar did he cast his sword-blade, since he feared lest
'gainst me he sin,
Yet naught did he know when he spared me that we twain were
so near akin. 420
But now have I won his friendship, and his love, and with
right goodwill
Would I do to him faithful service as befitteth a brother
still!'
Then Gawain spake, 'They brought me tidings of a dauntless
strife and bold,
In Château Merveil the country for six miles may ye well
behold,
The pillar within the watch-tower showeth all that within
that space 425
Doth chance,--and he spake, King Arthur, that _one_ who there
strife did face,
Should be _thou_ cousin mine of Kingrivals, now hast thou the
tidings brought,
And we know of a sooth the combat was even as we had thought.
Now believe me, the truth I tell thee, for eight days here
our feast we'ld hold
In great pomp, and await thy coming, shouldst thou seek us,
thou hero bold. 430
Now rest here, ye twain, from your combat--but methinks,
since ye thus did fight,
Ye shall each know the other better, and hatred shall own
love's might.'
That eve would Gawain sup early, since his cousin of far
Thasmé,
Feirefis Angevin, and his brother, had tasted no food that
day.
And high and long were the cushions that they laid in a ring
so wide, 435
And many a costly covering of silk did their softness hide.
And long, and wide, and silken, were the clothes that above
them went,
And the store of Klingsor's riches they spread forth within
the tent.
Then four costly carpets silken, and woven so fair to see,
Did they hang one against the other, so the tale it was told
to me; 440
And beneath them, of down were the pillows, and each one was
covered fair,
And in such wise the costly couches for the guests would the
squires prepare.
And so wide was the ring that within it six pavilions right
well might stand
Nor the tent ropes should touch each other--(Now wisdom doth
fail mine hand,
I will speak no more of these marvels). Then straightway
Gawain he sent 445
To King Arthur, he fain would tell him who abode here within
his tent,
He had come, the mighty heathen, of whom Ekuba erst did tell
On Plimizöl's plain! And the tidings they rejoiced King
Arthur well.
And he who should bear the tidings, he was Iofreit, and
Idol's son;
And he bade the king sup early, and so soon as the meal was
done, 450
With his knights and his host of ladies, to ride forth a
train so fair,
And a fit and worthy welcome for Gamuret's son prepare.
Quoth the king, 'All who here are worthy, of a sooth, will I
bring with me.'
Quoth Iofreit, 'Ye fain will see him, so courteous a knight
is he,
And a marvel is he to look on--From great riches he forth
must fare, 455
For the price of his coat emblazoned is such as no man might
bear,
And no hand might count its equal, not in Löver or Brittany,
Or in England, or e'en from Paris to Wizsant beside the sea--
Nay, all the rich lands between them, were their wealth in
the balance weighed,
Then the cost of his goodly raiment, I think me, were yet
unpaid!' 460
Then again came the knight Iofreit, when he to the king had
told
The guise that should best befit him when he greeted the
heathen bold.
And within the tent of Gawain the seats were ordered fair,
In courteous rank and seemly, and the guests to the feast
repair.
And the vassals of Orgelusé, and the heroes within her train 465
Who gladly for love had served her, they sate there beside
Gawain.
Their seats they were on his right hand, on his left were
Klingsor's knights,
And over against the heroes sat many a lady bright,
All they who were Klingsor's captives, in sooth were they
fair of face,
And Parzival and his brother, by the maidens they took their
place. 470
Then the Turkowit, Sir Florant, and Sangivé, that noble
queen,
Sat over against each other, and in like wise, the board
between,
Sat Gowerzein's Duke, brave Lischois, and his wife, the fair
Kondrie.
Iofreit and Gawain forgat not each other's mate to be,
As of old would they sit together, and together, as comrades,
eat. 475
The Duchess, with bright eyes shining, by Arnivé must find
her seat,
Nor forgat they to serve each other with courteous and kindly
grace--
At the side sat fair Orgelusé, while Arnivé by Gawain found
place.
And all shame and discourteous bearing from the circle must
take their flight,
And courteous they bare the viands to each maid and each
gallant knight. 480
Then Feirefis looked on his brother, and he spake unto
Parzival;
'Now Jupiter ruled my journey so that bliss to my lot would
fall
Since his aid shall have brought me hither, and here mine own
folk I see,
And I praise the sire that I knew not, of a gallant race was
he!'
Quoth the Waleis, 'Ye yet shall see them, a folk ye right
well may love, 485
With Arthur their king and captain, brave knights who their
manhood prove.
So soon as this feast is ended, as methinks it will be ere
long,
Ye shall see them come in their glory, many valiant men and
strong.
Of the knights of the good Round Table there shall sit at
this board but three,
Our host, and the knight Iofreit, and such honour once fell
to me, 490
In the days that I showed me worthy, that they prayed me I
would be one
Of their band, nor was I unwilling, but e'en as they spake
'twas done,'
Now 'twas time, since all well had eaten, the covers to bear
away
From before both man and maiden, and this did the squires
straightway.
The host would no longer sit there; then the Duchess and
Arnivé spake, 495
And they prayed that the twain, Sangivé and Kondrie, they
with them might take;
And go to the strange-faced heathen, and entreat him in
courteous wise--
When Feirefis saw them near him, from his seat did the prince
arise,
And with Parzival, his brother, stepped forward the queens to
meet,
By his hand did the Duchess take him, and with fair words the
knight would greet; 500
And the ladies and knights who stood there she bade them be
seated all--
Then the king and his host came riding, with many a trumpet
call;
And they heard the sound of music, of tambour, and flute, and
horn,
With many a blast drew nearer the king of Arnivé born;
And the heathen this pomp and rejoicing must hold for a
worthy thing-- 505
And Guinevere rode with King Arthur, so came they to Gawain's
ring;
And goodly the train that followed of ladies and gallant
knights,
And Feirefis saw among them fair faces with youth's tints
bright;
And King Gramoflanz rode among them, for Arthur's guest was
he,
And Itonjé, his love so loyal, true lady, from falsehood
free! 510
Then the gallant host dismounted, with many a lady sweet,
And Guinevere bade Itonjé her nephew, the heathen, greet.
Then the queen herself drew anear him, and she kissed the
knight Feirefis,
And Gramoflanz and King Arthur received him with friendly
kiss;
And in honour they proffered service unto him, those monarchs
twain, 515
And many a man of his kinsfolk to welcome the prince was
fain.
And many a faithful comrade Feirefis Angevin had found,
Nor in sooth was he loth to own here that he stood upon
friendly ground.
Down they sat them, both wife and husband, and many a
gracious maid,
And many a knight might find there (if in sooth he such
treasure prayed,) 520
From sweet lips sweet words of comfort--If for wooing such
knight were fain,
Then from many a maid who sat there no hatred his prayer
would gain,
No true woman shall e'er be wrathful if a true man for help
shall pray,
For ever the right she holdeth to yield, or to say him 'Nay,'
And if labour win joy for payment then such guerdon shall
true love give-- 525
And I speak but as in my lifetime I have seen many true folk
live--
And service sat there by rewarding, for in sooth 'tis a
gracious thing
When a knight may his lady hearken, for joy shall such
hearing bring.
And Feirefis sat by King Arthur, nor would either prince
delay
To the question each asked the other courteous answer to make
straightway-- 530
Quoth King Arthur, 'May God be praised, for He honoureth us I
ween,
Since this day within our circle so gallant a guest is seen,
No knight hath Christendom welcomed to her shores from a
heathen land
Whom, an he desired my service, I had served with such
willing hand!'
Quoth Feirefis to King Arthur, 'Misfortune hath left my side, 535
Since the day that my goddess Juno, with fair winds and a
favouring tide,
Led my sail to this Western kingdom! Methinks that thou
bearest thee
In such wise as he should of whose valour many tales have
been told to me;
If indeed thou art called King Arthur, then know that in many
a land
Thy name is both known and honoured, and thy fame o'er all
knights doth stand.' 540
Quoth Arthur, 'Himself doth he honour who thus spake in my
praise to thee
And to other folk, since such counsel he won of his courtesy
Far more than of my deserving--for he spake of his kindly
will.
Yea, in sooth shall my name be Arthur, and the tale would I
hearken still
Of how to this land thou camest, if for _love's_ sake thou
bearest shield, 545
Then thy love must be fair, since to please her thou ridest
so far afield!
If her guerdon be not withholden then love's service shall
wax more fair,
Else must many a maid win hatred from the knight who her
badge doth bear!'
'Nay, 'twas otherwise,' quoth the heathen; 'Now learn how I
came to thee,
I led such a mighty army, they who guardians of Troy would
be, 550
And they who its walls besiegèd, the road to my hosts must
yield--
If both armies yet lived, and lusted to face me on open
field,
Then ne'er might they win the victory, but shame and defeat
must know
From me and my host, of a surety their force would I
overthrow!--
And many a fight had I foughten, and knightly deeds had done, 555
Till as guerdon at length the favour of Queen Sekundill' I
won.
And e'en as her wish so my will is, and her love to my life
is guide,
She bade me to give with a free hand, and brave knights to
keep at my side,
And this must I do to please her; and I did even as she
would,
'Neath my shield have I won as vassals full many a warrior
good, 560
And her love it hath been my guerdon--An Ecidemon I bear
On my shield, even as she bade me, at her will I this token
wear.
Since then, came I e'er in peril, if but on my love I thought
She hath helped me, yea, Jupiter never such succour in need
hath brought!'
Quoth Arthur, 'Thy gallant father, Gamuret, he hath left thee
heir 565
To the heart that on woman's service thus loveth afar to
fare.
Of such service I too can tell thee, for but seldom hath
greater deeds
Been done for a woman's honour, or to win of her love the
meed,
Than were done for the sake of the Duchess who sitteth beside
us here.
For her love many gallant heroes have splintered full many a
spear, 570
Yea, the spear-shafts were e'en as a forest! And many have
paid the cost
Of her service in bitter sorrow, and in joy and high courage
lost!'
And then the tale he told him of the fame that Gawain had
found,
And the knights of the host of Klingsor, and the heroes who
sat around,
And of Parzival, his brother, how he fought fierce combats
twain, 575
For the sake of Gramoflanz' garland, on Ioflanz' grassy
plain;
'And what other have been his ventures, who never himself
doth spare
As thro' the wide world he rideth, that shall he himself
declare;
For he seeketh a lofty guerdon, and he rideth to find the
Grail.
And here shall it be my pleasure that ye twain, without lack
or fail, 580
Shall tell me the lands and the peoples against whom ye shall
both have fought.'
Quoth the heathen, 'I'll name the princes whom I here as my
captives brought':
'King Papirus of Trogodjenté, Count Behantins of Kalomedenté,
Duke Farjelastis of Africk, and King Tridanz of Tinodent;
King Liddamus of Agrippé, of Schipelpjonte King Amaspartins, 585
King Milon of Nomadjentesin, of Agremontein, Duke Lippidins;
Gabarins of Assigarzionté, King Translapins of Rivigatas,
From Hiberborticon Count Filones, from Sotofeititon, Amincas,
From Centrium, King Killicrates, Duke Tiridé of Elixodjon,
And beside him Count Lysander, from Ipopotiticon. 590
King Thoaris of Orastegentesein, from Satarthjonté Duke
Alamis,
And the Duke of Duscontemedon, and Count Astor of Panfatis.
From Arabia King Zaroaster, and Count Possizonjus of Thiler,
The Duke Sennes of Narjoclin, and Nourjenté's Duke, Acheinor,
Count Edisson of Lanzesardin, Count Fristines of Janfusé, 595
Meiones of Atropfagenté, King Jetakranc of Ganpfassasché,
From Assagog and Zassamank princes, Count Jurans of
Blemunzîn.
And the last, I ween, shall a Duke be, Affinamus of
Amantasîn!'
'Yet one thing for a shame I deemed it--In my kingdom 'twas
told to me
Gamuret Angevin, my father, the best of all knights should be 600
That ever bestrode a charger--Then so was my will and mind,
That, afar from my kingdom faring, my father I thought to
find;
And since then strife hath been my portion, for forth from my
kingdoms twain
A mighty host and powerful 'neath my guidance hath crossed
the main,
And I lusted for deeds of knighthood; if I came to a goodly
land, 605
Then I rested not till its glory paid tribute into mine hand.
And thus ever I journeyed further--I won love from two noble
queens,
Olympia and Klauditté; Sekundillé the third hath been.
And well have I served fair women!--Now first must I learn
to-day
That my father is dead! My brother, the tale of thy ventures
say.' 610
And Parzival quoth, 'Since I seek it, The Grail, in full many
a fight,
Both far and near, have I striven, in such wise as beseems a
knight,
And my hand of their fame hath robbed them who never before
might fall--
If it please ye the tale to hearken, lo! here will I name
them all!'
'King Schirniel of Lirivoin, and his brother of Avendroin,
King Mirabel, 615
King Piblesun of Lorneparz, of Rozokarz, King Serabel,
Of Sirnegunz, King Senilgorz, and Strangedorz of Villegarunz,
Rogedal the Count of Mirnetalle and Laudunal of Pleyedunz.
From Semblidag King Zyrolan, from Itolac Onipreiz,
From Zambron the Count Plenischanz, and Duke Jerneganz of
Jeropleis, 620
Count Longefiez of Teuteleunz, Duke Marangliess of Privegarz,
From Lampregun Count Parfoyas, from Pictacon Duke Strennolas;
Postefar of Laudundrehte, Askalon's fair king, Vergulacht,
Duke Leidebron of Redunzehte, and from Pranzile Count
Bogudaht,
Collevâl of Leterbé, Jovedast of Arl, a Provençal, 625
Count Karfodyas of Tripparûn, all these 'neath my spear must
fall.
In knightly joust I o'erthrew them the while I the Grail must
seek!
Would I say those I felled in _battle_, methinks I o'er-long
must speak,
It were best that I here keep silence--Of those who were
known to me,
Methinks that the greater number I here shall have named to
ye!' 630
From his heart was he glad, the heathen, of his brother's
mighty fame,
That so many a gallant hero 'neath his hand had been put to
shame,
And he deemed in his brother's honour he himself should have
honour won,
And with many a word he thanked him for the deeds that he
there had done.
Then Gawain bade his squires bear hither (yet e'en as he knew
it not) 635
The costly gear of the heathen, and they held it was fair I
wot.
And knights alike and ladies, they looked on its decking
rare,
Corslet, and shield, and helmet, and the coat that was
blazoned fair.
Nor narrow nor wide the helmet--And a marvel great they
thought
The shine of the many jewels in the costly robe inwrought, 640
And no man I ween shall ask me the power that in each did
dwell,
The light alike and the heavy, for I skill not the tale to
tell;
Far better might they have told it, Heraclius or Hercules
And the Grecian Alexander; and better methinks than these
Pythagoras, the wise man, for skilled in the stars was he, 645
And so wise that no son of Adam I wot well might wiser be.
Then the women they spake, 'What woman so e'er thus hath
decked this knight
If he be to her love unfaithful he hath done to his fame
despite.'
Yet some in such favour held him, they had been of his
service fain--
Methinks the unwonted colour of his face did their fancy
gain! 650
Then aside went the four, Gawain, Arthur, Gramoflanz, and
Parzival,
(And the women should care for the heathen, methinks it would
please them well.)
And Arthur willed ere the morrow a banquet, rich and fair,
On the grassy plain before him they should without fail
prepare,
That Feirefis they might welcome as befitting so brave a
guest. 655
'Now be ye in this task not slothful, but strive, as shall
seem ye best,
That henceforth he be one of our circle, of the Table Round,
a knight.'
And they spake, they would win that favour, if so be it
should seem him right.
Then Feirefis, the rich hero, he brotherhood with them sware;
And they quaffed the cup of parting, and forth to their tents
would fare. 660
And joy it came with the morning, if here I the truth may
say,
And many were glad at the dawning of a sweet and a welcome
day.
Then the son of Uther Pendragon, King Arthur, in this wise
spake:
For Round Table a silk so costly, Drianthasmé, he bade them
take--
Ye have heard how it once was ordered, afar on Plimizöl's
plain, 665
How they spread them there a Round Table, in such wise was it
spread again--
'Twas cut in a round, and costly it was, and right fair to
see,
And on the green turf around it the seats of the knights
should be.
It was even a goodly gallop from the seats to the Table
Round,
For the Table's self it was not, yet the likeness they there
had found. 670
And a cowardly man might shame him to sit there with such
gallant knights,
And with sin would his food be tainted since he ate it not
there of right.
Thro' the summer night 'twas measured, the ring, both with
thought and care,
And from one end unto the other with pomp they the seats
prepare.
And the cost were too great for a poor king, as they saw it
in noontide light, 675
When the trappings, so gay and costly, shone fair in the
sun-rays bright.
Gramoflanz and Gawain would pay it, the cost, since within
their land
He was but a guest, King Arthur, tho' he dealt with a
generous hand.
And the night, it seldom cometh but, as it is wont, the sun
Bringeth back the day and the daylight when the hours of the
night are run; 680
And e'en so it befell, and the dawning was clear and calm and
bright,
And many a flowery chaplet crowned the locks of many a
knight;
And with cheeks and lips unpainted saw ye many a lovely maid,
And, if Kiot the truth hath spoken, knight and lady they were
arrayed
In diverse garb and fashion, with head-gear both high and
low, 685
As each in their native country their faces were wont to
show--
'Twas a folk from far kingdoms gathered and diverse their
ways were found--
If to lady a knight were lacking she sat not at the Table
Round,
But if she for knightly service had promised a guerdon fair,
She might ride with her knight, but the others, they must to
their tents repair. 690
When Arthur the Mass had hearkened, then Gramoflanz did they
see
With Gowerzein's Duke and Florant; to the king came the
comrades three,
And each one a boon would crave here, for each of the three
was fain
To be one of the good Round Table, nor this grace did they
fail to gain.
And if lady or knight would ask me who was richest of all
that band, 695
Who sat as guests in the circle, and were gathered from every
land,
Then here will I speak the answer, 'twas Feirefis Angevin,
But think not from my lips of his riches a further tale to
win.
Thus in festive guise, and gaily, they rode to the circle
wide,
And often to maid had it chancèd (so closely the guests must
ride) 700
Were her steed not well girthed she had fallen--with banners
waving high
From every side of the meadow to each other the groups drew
nigh;
And a Buhurd fair was ridden without the Table Round,
And in courtly guise and skilful no man rode _within_ its
bound;
There was space without for the chargers, and they handled
their steeds with skill, 705
And rode each one against the other till the ladies had
looked their fill.
Then in order fair they seat them when 'twas time for the
guests to eat,
And cup-bearer, steward, and butler, they bethink them as
shall be meet,
How, courteous, to do their office--No lack of food had they,
And many a maid was honoured as she sat by her knight that
day. 710
And many thro' fond heart's counsel had been served by
knightly deed--
And Feirefis, and the Waleis, to the maidens they gave good
heed,
And they looked on the one and the other, and a fair choice
was theirs, I ween,
For never on field or meadow may the eye of man have seen
So many sweet lips and fair faces as shone there at the Table
Round, 715
And the heathen was glad for their beauty, and the joy that
his heart had found.
Now hail to the hour that cometh, and the tidings they soon
shall hear
From the welcome lips of a maiden who draweth the host anear;
For a maiden came towards them, and her raiment was fair to
see,
And e'en as in France the custom so 'twas fashioned right
cunningly. 720
Her mantle was costly velvet, and blacker, I ween, its hue
Than the coat of a sable jennet; and with gold was it woven
thro'
With turtle-doves, all shining, the badge of the Grail were
they.
And they looked and they marvelled at her as toward them she
made her way,
For swiftly she came, and her head-gear was high and white,
her face 725
With many a veil was shrouded, and her features no man might
trace.
Then with even pace and seemly she rode o'er the turf so
green,
And saddle and reins and trappings were costly enow I ween;
And they let her within the circle--Now she who would tidings
bring
No fool was she, but wise maiden--So rode she around the
ring, 730
And they showed her where sat King Arthur, nor her greeting
should fail that day,
In French was her speech, and in this wise the monarch she
fain would pray;
They should wreak not on her their vengeance for the words
that she spake of yore,
But hearken unto her message since welcome the news she bore.
And the king and the queen she pleaded to give unto her their
aid, 735
That she failed not to win from the hero the grace that she
fain had prayed.
Then to Parzival she turned her, since his place by the
king's was found,
And she stayed not, but down from her charger she sprang
swiftly unto the ground,
And with courteous mien, as beseemed her, fell low at the
hero's feet,
And, weeping, she prayed that in friendship her coming he now
would greet, 740
And forget his wrath against her, and forgive her without a
kiss.
And they joined to her prayer their pleadings, King Arthur
and Feirefis.
Of a sooth Parzival must hate her, yet he hearkened to
friendship's prayer,
And of true heart and free forgave her--Tho' I say not the
maid was fair,
Yet methinks she was honour-worthy--Then swiftly she sprang
upright, 745
And thanked those who had won her pardon for the wrong she
had done the knight.
Then she raised her hand to her head-gear, were it wimple or
veil, no less
Was it cast on the ground, and all men knew Kondrie, the
sorceress.
And they knew of the Grail the token and the badge that the
maiden bare,
And all men I ween must marvel--Her face it was e'en as fair 750
As man and maiden saw it when to Plimizöl's banks she came,
Of her countenance have I told ye, and to-day was it still
the same,
And yellow her eyes as the topaz, long her teeth, and her
lips in hue
Were even as is a violet, that man seeth not _red_ but
_blue_!
Yet methinks had her will been evil she had borne not the
head-gear rare 755
That aforetime, on Plimizöl's meadow, it had pleasured the
maid to wear.
The sun it had worked no evil, if its rays thro' her hair
might win
Yet scarce had they shone so fiercely as to darken one whit
her skin.
Then courteous she stood, and she spake thus, and good were
her words to hear,
In the self-same hour her tidings came thus to the listening
ear; 760
'Oh! well is thee, thou hero, thou Gamuret's son so fair,
Since God showeth favour to thee whom Herzeleide of old did
bear.
And welcome is he, thy brother, Feirefis, the strange of hue,
For the sake of my Queen Sekundillé, and the tidings that
erst I knew
Of the gallant deeds of knighthood that his valiant hand hath
done, 765
For e'en from the days of his childhood great fame for
himself he won!'
And to Parzival she spake thus, 'Now rejoice with a humble
heart,
Since the crown of all earthly blessings henceforward shall
be thy part,
For read is the mystic writing--The Grail, It doth hail thee
king,
And Kondwiramur, thy true wife, thou shalt to thy kingdom
bring, 770
For the Grail, It hath called her thither--Yea, and
Lohengrin, thy son,
For e'en as thou left her kingdom twin babes thou by her
hadst won.
And Kardeiss, he shall have in that kingdom a heritage rich I
trow!
And were no other bliss thy portion than that which I tell
thee now--
That with true lips and pure, thou shalt greet him, Anfortas
the king, again, 775
And thy mouth thro' the mystic question shall rid him of all
his pain,
For sorrow hath been his portion--If joy's light thro' thy
deed shall shine
On his life, then of all earth's children whose bliss shall
be like to thine?'
Seven stars did she name unto him in Arabic, and their might,
Right well Feirefis should know it, who sat there, both black
and white. 780
And she spake, 'Sir Parzival, mark well the names that I tell
to thee,
There is Zevâl the highest planet, and the swift star
Almustri;
Almaret and the shining Samsi, great bliss unto thee they
bring,
Alligafir is fifth, and Alketer stands sixth in the starry
ring;
And the nearest to us is Alkamer; and no dream shall it be,
my rede, 785
For the bridle of heaven are they, to guide and to check its
speed,
'Gainst its swiftness their power, it warreth--Now thy sorrow
is passed away,
For far as shall be their journey, and far as shall shine
their ray.
So wide is the goal of thy riches and the glory thine hand
shall win,
And thy sorrow shall wane and vanish--Yet this thing It holds
for sin, 790
The Grail and Its power, It forbids thee unlawful desire to
know,
And the company of sinners henceforth must thou shun, I trow;
And riches are thine, and honour, but from these shall thy
life be free--
Now thy youth was by sorrow cherished, and her lesson she
taught to thee,
But by joy she afar is driven, for thou hast thy soul's rest
won, 795
And in grief thou o'er-long hast waited for the joy that is
now begun.'
Nor seemed ill to the knight her tidings--Thro' joy must his
eyelids know
A rain of crystal tear-drops from a true heart's overflow.
And he quoth, 'If thou speakest, Lady, the thing that indeed
shall be,
If God as his knight doth claim me, and they are elect with
me, 800
My wife and my child, then I wot well, tho' a sinful man am
I,
God looketh with favour on me, and hath dealt with me
wondrously!
Of a sooth hast thou here repaid me for the grief thou on me
hast brought,
Yet I deem well thy wrath had spared me save that evil myself
had wrought,
Nor to bliss was I then predestined--but thou bringest such
tidings fair 805
That my sorrow hath found an ending--And these arms do thy
truth declare,
For when by the sad Anfortas I sat in Monsalväsch' hall,
Full many a shield I looked on that hung fair on the castle
wall,
And with turtle-doves all were blazoned, such as shine on thy
robe to-day.
But say, to the joy that awaits me, when and how may I take
my way, 810
For I would not there were delaying?' Then she quoth, 'Lord
and master dear,
But _one_ knight alone shall ride with thee; choose thou from
these warriors here
And trust thou to my skill and knowledge to guide thee upon
thy way,
For thy succour Anfortas waiteth, wouldst thou help him, make
no delay!'
Then they heard, all they who sat there, how Kondrie had come
again 815
And the tidings she bare; and teardrops fell soft like a
summer's rain
From the bright eyes of Orgelusé, since Parzival should speak
The words that should heal Anfortas, nor that healing be long
to seek.
Then Arthur, the fame-desirous, spake to Kondrie in courtesy,
'Now, Lady, wilt ride to thy lodging? Say, how may we care
for thee?' 820
And she quoth, 'Is she here, Arnivé, what lodging she shall
prepare,
That lodging shall well content me till hence with my lord I
fare;
If a captive she be no longer, then fain would I see them
all,
The queen, and the other ladies, whom Klingsor, in magic
thrall,
For many a year hath fettered'--Then they lifted her on her
steed, 825
Two knights, and unto Arnivé did the faithful maiden speed.
Now the feast drew nigh to its ending--By his brother sat
Parzival,
And he prayed him to be his comrade, nor his words did
unheeded fall,
For Feirefis spake him ready to Monsalväsch' Burg to ride--
In the self-same hour upstood they, the guests, o'er the ring
so wide, 830
And Feirefis prayed this favour from Gramoflanz, the king,
If in sooth he should love his cousin of that love he would
token bring;
'Both thou and Gawain, ye must help me, whether princes or
kings they be,
Or barons, or knights, none betake them from this field till
my gifts they see.
Myself had I shamed if I rode hence and never a gift should
leave, 835
And the minstrel-folk they shall wait here till they gifts
from my hand receive.
And Arthur, this thing would I pray thee, seek that none of
these knights disdain,
Tho' lofty their birth, a token of friendship from me to
gain;
For the shame, on thyself shalt thou take it--one so rich
shall they ne'er have known--
Give me messengers unto the haven that the presents to all be
shown!' 840
Then they sware them unto the heathen that no man of them
should depart
From the field till four days were ended, and the heathen was
glad at heart,
And wise messengers Arthur gave him, who should forth to the
haven fare--
Feirefis took him ink and parchment, and a letter he bade
them bear,
Nor the writing, I ween, lacked tokens of his hand from whom
it came, 845
And seldom methinks a letter such goodly return might claim!
Then soon must the messengers ride hence--Parzival stood the
host before,
And in French did he tell the story from Trevrezent learnt of
yore,
How the Grail, throughout all ages, may never by man be
known,
Save by him whom God calleth to It, whose name God doth know
alone. 850
And the tale shall be told in all lands; no conflict may win
that prize,
And 'tis vain on that Quest to spend them, since 'tis hidden
from mortal eyes!'
And for Parzival and his brother the maidens must mourn that
day,
Farewell they were loth to bid them--Ere the heroes rode on
their way
Thro' the armies four they gat them, and they prayed leave
from each and all, 855
And joyful, they took their journey, well armed 'gainst what
might befall.
And the third day hence to Ioflanz from the heathen's host
they brought
Great gifts, so rich and costly, men ne'er on such wealth had
thought.
Did a king take of them, his kingdom was rich for evermore--
And to each as beseemed his station the precious gifts they
bore, 860
And the ladies, they had rich presents, from Triant and
Nouriente--
How the others rode I know not, but the twain, they with
Kondrie went!
BOOK XVI
LOHENGRIN
ARGUMENT
Book XVI. tells of the sorrow of Anfortas and his knights; how he
prayed them to kill him, and how he would fain have withheld his
eyes
from the light of the Grail; of the coming of Parzival and
Feirefis,
and of the healing of Anfortas.
How Parzival set forth to meet his wife on the shores of
Plimizöl; and
how Trevrezent confessed to having spoken falsely in order to
withhold
him from the Quest.
Of the joyful meeting of Parzival and Kondwiramur; and how
Kardeiss
was proclaimed king of Brobarz, Waleis, Norgals, and Anjou; and
how
Parzival with Kondwiramur and Lohengrin rode to Monsalväsch. How
on
their way they found Siguné dead, and buried her by her lover.
Of the great feast at Monsalväsch; and how Feirefis failed to
behold
the Grail, and of his love for Répanse de Schoie. How Feirefis
was
baptized, and wedded Répanse de Schoie; how the twain set forth
for
Feirefis' kingdom, and of their son, Prester John. Of Lohengrin
and the
Duchess of Brabant; how he was sent to her aid from Monsalväsch,
and
dwelt with her in peace till she asked the question which drove
him
forth.
The poet blames Chrêtien de Troyes for having done the tale a
wrong;
it was Kiot who taught the song aright, to its very end. He,
Wolfram
of Eschenbach, will speak no more of it, but he prays that all
good
and gracious women will praise him for his song, since he sang it
to
pleasure a woman.
BOOK XVI
LOHENGRIN
Now Anfortas and his Templars they suffered sore grief and
pain,
And their true love in bondage held him, since he prayed them
for death in vain;
And in sooth death had been his portion, save they wrought
that the Grail he saw--
From the might of Its mystic virtue fresh life must he ever
draw.
Then he spake to the knights of Monsalväsch, 'Of a sooth,
were ye true of heart, 5
Ye had pitied ere this my sorrow, how long shall pain be my
part?
If reward ye would have as deserving, then God give ye
payment fair,
For ever was _I_ your servant since the days that I harness
bare.
Atonement in full have I made here for aught I have done of
wrong
To ye, e'en tho' none had known it, and my penance endureth
long! 10
If ye would not be held unfaithful, by the helmet and shield
I bore,
And the bond of our common knighthood, release me from
bondage sore!
For this of a truth must ye grant me, if ye do not the truth
disdain,
I bare _both_ as a knight undaunted, and fame thro' my deeds
did gain.
For hill and vale have I ridden, and many a joust have run, 15
And with sword-play good from my foemen much hatred methinks,
I won.
Yet with ye doth that count for little! Bereft of all joy am
I;
Yet, cometh the Day of Judgment, my voice would I lift on
high,
And in God's sight, I, one man only, at the last will accuse
ye all,
If freedom ye fail to give me, and to Hell shall ye surely
fall! 20
For in sooth ye should mourn my sorrow--From the first have
ye seen the thing,
And ye know how it came upon me--Now I profit ye not as king,
And all too soon will ye think so, when thro' me ye have lost
your soul--
Alas! why thus ill-entreat me? Ere this had I been made
whole!'
And the knights from his grief had freed him, save they hope
from the word must draw 25
That Trevrezent spake of aforetime, and that writ on the
Grail he saw.
And once more would they wait his coming whose joy there had
waxen weak,
And the hour that should bring them healing from the question
his lips should speak.
Then the king of a wile bethought him, and fast would he
close his eyes,
And four days long so he held them, when the knights, in
their 'customedwise, 30
Before the Grail would bear him, if he said them or yea, or
nay;
But his weakness so wrought upon him, as before the shrine he
lay,
That his eyelids he needs must open, and against his will
must live,
For the Grail held death far from him and fresh life must Its
vision give.
And so was it with Anfortas till the day when Parzival 35
And Feirefis his brother, rode swift to Monsalväsch' hall;
And the time was near when the planet, its course in high
heaven run,
Mars or Jupiter, glowing wrathful, its station had well-nigh
won,
And the spot whence it took its journey--Ah! then was an evil
day
That wrought ill to the wound of Anfortas, and the torment
would have its way; 40
And maiden and knight must hearken as the palace rang with
his cries,
And the help that no man might give him he besought with
despairing eyes,
For past all aid was he wounded, and his knights could but
share his grief--
Yet the tale saith he drew ever nearer who should bring him
alone relief.
Then oft as the bitter anguish in its bondage the hero held, 45
The taint of the wound to banish, the hall was with sweetness
filled,
For before him they spread on the carpet Terebinth, and
odours fair
Of aromatic spices and sweet woods filled the scented air.
Teriak and precious Ambra, and methinks that their smell was
sweet--
Cardamom, Jeroffel, Muscat, lay broken beneath the feet 50
Where'er one set foot on the carpet; and e'en as each
footstep fell
Their perfume arose, and their freshness, of the venom
o'ercame the smell.
And his fire was of Lignum aloe, as methinks ye have heard
afore--
Of the horny skin of the viper had they fashioned the pillars
four
That stood 'neath his couch--'Gainst the venom must his
knights on the cushions strew 55
Powder of roots so precious, whose healing scent they knew.
Well stuffed, but unsewed, was the covering against which the
monarch leant,
And the silk and the mattress 'neath it were of Palmât of
Nouriente.
And the couch itself was yet richer, with many a precious
stone
Was it decked, nor were others found there save the rarest of
jewels alone; 60
And by Salamanders woven were the cords which the bed did
bind,
Yea even the fastening 'neath it--Yet no joy might Anfortas
find.
The couch on all sides was costly, (no man shall contend I
ween
That he in the days of his lifetime a richer shall e'er have
seen,)
'Twas precious alone from the virtue of the jewels and their
magic power, 65
Would ye learn their names, then hearken, for we know them
unto this hour.
Carbuncle and Balas ruby, Silenite, and Chalcedony,
Gagatromeus, Onyx, Coral, and Bestion, fair to see.
And there too were Pearl and Opal, Ceraunius and Epistites,
Jerachites, Heliotropia, Panterus, Agate, and Emathites. 70
Antrodragma, Praseme, and Saddae, Dionisia and Celidon,
Sardonyx and red Cornelian, Jasper and Calcofon.
Echites, Iris, Gagates, and Lyncurium, with many more,
Asbestos and Cecolithus, and Jacinth, that rich couch bore.
Galactida, Orites, Enydrus, and Emerald, glowing green, 75
Absist and Alabanda, and Chrysolect had ye seen.
Hiennia, Sapphire, Pyrites, and beside them, here and there,
Turquoise, and Lipparèa, Chrysolite, and Ruby fair--
Paleisen, Sardius, Diamond, Chrysoprasis, and Malachite,
Diadoch, Peanite, and Medus with Beryl and Topaze bright. 80
And many they taught high courage, and others such virtue
knew
That healing skill they taught men, and fresh life from their
power they drew.
And many their strength won from them, if aright they might
use their art,
And therewith would they tend Anfortas whom they loved with a
faithful heart--
And great grief had he brought his people, yet joy soon his
lot shall be-- 85
To Terre de Salväsch from Ioflanz he rideth to speak him
free,
Parzival, with the maid and his brother, nor in truth did I
ever hear
The distance these three had journeyed ere they drew to the
Burg anear;
But conflict had been their portion had Kondrie not been
their guide,
But afar from all strife did she hold them, and in peace on
their way they ride. 90
So came they at length to an outpost--Then swiftly towards
them sped
Many Templars well armed and mounted, and right soon they the
truth had read,
And they knew by the guide that succour at last to their
walls should draw,
And the Captain he spake out gladly as the Turtle-doves he
saw
Gleam fair on Kondrie's vesture, 'Now an end hath it found,
our grief, 95
With the sign of the Grail he cometh who shall bring to our
king relief,
The knight we have looked and have longed for since the dawn
of our sorrow's day--
Stand ye still, for great gladness cometh, and our mourning
is past away!'
Feirefis Angevin would urge him, his brother, to joust to
ride,
But Kondrie, she grasped his bridle, lest conflict should
there betide, 100
And the maiden, true but unlovely, spake thus unto Parzival,
'Shield and banner, thou sure shouldst know them, of the
Grail are these heroes all,
And ready to do thee service.' Then out spake the heathen
bold,
'If so it shall be, from battle mine hand may I well
withhold.'
Then Parzival prayed that Kondrie would ride forward, the
knights to meet, 105
And she rode, and she spake of the gladness that neared them
with flying feet.
And, one and all, the Templars sprang straightway unto the
ground,
And from off their head the helmet in the self-same hour
unbound,
And Parzival they greeted, and they were in his greeting
blest,
And Feirefis they welcomed as befitted a noble guest. 110
And then with the twain to Monsalväsch the Templars they took
their way;
Though they wept, yet methinks that gladness was the fount of
their tears that day.
And a countless folk they found there, many grey-haired
knights and old,
And pages of noble bearing, and of servants, a host untold.
And sad were the folk and mournful, whom their coming might
well rejoice, 115
And Parzival and his brother they welcomed with friendly
voice,
And kindly did they receive them, without, in the palace
court,
At the foot of the noble stairway, and the knights to the
hall they brought.
And, e'en as was there the custom, a hundred carpets round,
Each one with a couch upon it, were spread there upon the
ground; 120
And each couch bare a velvet covering, and methinks, if the
twain had wit,
The while that the squires disarmed them 'twould pleasure
them there to sit.
And a chamberlain came towards them, and he brought to them
vesture fair,
And each should be clad as the other, and many a knight sat
there.
And they bare many precious vessels of gold, (none I ween was
glass,) 125
And the twain they drank, and upstood them to get them to
Anfortas.
And this have ye heard of aforetime, how he lay, for he
scarce might sit,
And the couch and its goodly decking, forsooth have ye read
of it.
And the twain did Anfortas welcome with gladness, and yet
with grief,
And he spake, 'O'er-long have I waited tho' I win from thine
hand relief; 130
But a while ago didst thou leave me in such wise, art thou
true of heart,
And thinkest to aid my sorrow, thou must have in repentance
part.
If e'er men have praised thy valour, then be thou to my woe a
friend,
And pray of these knights and maidens that death may my
torment end;
If _Parzival_ men shall call thee, then forbid me the Grail
to see 135
Seven nights and eight days, and I wot well my wailing shall
silenced be!
Nor further I dare to warn thee--Well for thee if thou help
canst bring!
A stranger shall be thy comrade, and I think it an evil thing
That thus he doth stand before me, say wherefore no thought
dost take
For his comfort, and bid him seat him?' Then Parzival,
weeping, spake: 140
'Now say where the Grail It lieth? If God's mercy He think to
show,
And it be o'er His wrath the victor, this folk, they shall
surely know!'
Then three times on his knee he bowed him in the Name of the
Trinity,
And three times he prayed that the sorrow of Anfortas should
ended be,
Then he stood upright, and he turned him to the monarch, and
thus he spake: 145
'_What aileth thee here, mine uncle?_' He who Lazarus from
death did wake,
And by the mouth of His saint, Sylvester, a dead beast to
life did bring,
Wrought healing and strength on Anfortas--and all men beheld
the king,
And what French folk shall know as '_Florie_' it shone on his
face so fair,
And Parzival's manly beauty was but as the empty air! 150
Yea, Vergulacht, Askalon's monarch, and Absalom, David's son,
And all who the dower of beauty as their birthright shall
e'er have won--
E'en Gamuret, as men saw him draw near unto Kanvoleis,
So wondrous fair to look on--they were naught unto all men's
eyes
When matched with the radiant beauty that forth from his
bitter woe 155
He bare, the King Anfortas--such skill God doth surely know!
No choice was there for the Templars since the writing upon
the Grail
Had named unto them their ruler, and Parzival did they hail
Their king and their lord henceforward; and I ween ye in vain
would seek
Would ye find two men as wealthy, if of riches I here may
speak, 160
As Parzival and his brother, Feirefis Angevin--
And many a proffered service the host and his guest did win.
I know not how many stages queen Kondwiramur had made
On her journey towards Monsalväsch, nor, joyful, her steps
delayed,
For already the truth had been told her, and a messenger
tidings bare, 165
And she knew that her grief was ended and her gladness had
blossomed fair.
And led by her uncle, Kiot, and by many a hero bold,
Had she come unto Terre de Salväsch and the wood where they
fought of old;
Where in joust Segramor had fallen, and her lord did her
likeness know
In the threefold blood-drops mystic, on the white of the
drifted snow. 170
And there should Parzival seek her, and tho' toilsome and
rough the way
Yet never a gladder journey had he ridden than he rode that
day!
Then a Templar tidings brought him, 'E'en as doth her rank
beseem
Full many a knight so courteous rideth hither beside the
queen.'
Then Parzival bethought him, with the knights of the Holy
Grail 175
To Trevrezent did he ride first, and he told him the wondrous
tale;
From his heart was the hermit joyful that it thus with
Anfortas stood,
Nor death was his lot, but the question brought rest to the
hero good.
And he quoth, 'Yea, God's power is mighty--Who doth at His
Council sit?
Who hath known of His strength the limit? What Angel hath
fathomed it? 180
God is Man, and the Word of His Father; God is Father at once
and Son,
And I wot thro' His Spirit's working may succour and aid be
won!'
Then Trevrezent quoth to his nephew, 'Greater marvel I ne'er
may see
Than that thou by thy wrath hast won blessing, and th'
Eternal Trinity
Hath given thee thy desiring! Yet aforetime in sooth I lied, 185
For I thought from the Grail to bring thee, and the truth I
from thee would hide.
Do thou for my sin give me pardon, henceforth I thy hand
obey,
O my king, and son of my sister!--Methinks that I once did
say
That the spirits cast forth from Heaven thereafter the Grail
did tend
By God's will, and besought His favour, till their penance at
last did end. 190
But God to Himself is faithful, and ne'er doth He changing
know,
Nor to them whom I named as forgiven did He ever forgiveness
show.
For they who refuse His service, He Himself will, I ween,
refuse,
And I wot they are lost for ever, and that fate they
themselves did choose.
And I mourned for thy fruitless labour, for ne'er did the
story stand 195
That the Grail might by man be conquered, and I fain had
withheld thine hand;
But with _thee_ hath the chance been other, and thy prize
shall the highest be,
But since God's Hand doth give It to thee, turn thine heart
to humility.'
Quoth Parzival to his uncle, 'I would see her I ne'er might
see
For well-nigh five years--When together we dwelt she was dear
to me, 200
And no whit less dear shall she now be! Yet thy counsel I
fain would hear
So long as death fail to part us, thou didst help me in need
so drear!
Now I ride to my wife, since she cometh to meet me upon my
way,
By Plimizöl's banks doth she wait me, and leave I from thee
would pray.'
And the good man bade 'God speed him,' and he rode thro' the
dusky night, 205
And his men knew the woodland pathways--In the early morning
light
He found that which brought him gladness; full many a tent
stood fair,
From out the kingdom of Brobarz many banners were planted
there,
With many a shield beneath them--there lay princes from out
his land,
And Parzival fain would ask them where the tent of the queen
might stand? 210
If her camp lay apart from the others? Then they showed him
where she should be,
And a goodly ring around her of tents did the hero see.
And Duke Kiot of Katelangen, he had risen ere dawn of day,
And he looked on the band of riders who came by the woodland
way.
And tho' grey was the light of the morning, yet, as the host
nearer drew, 215
Kiot saw the Dove on their armour, and the arms of the Grail
he knew;
And the old man sighed as he thought him of Schoysiané, his
lovely bride,
How he won her in bliss at Monsalväsch, and how she untimely
died.
Towards Parzival he stepped him, and he bade him a greeting
fair;
By a page he bade the queen's Marshal a lodging meet prepare 220
For the knights who had there drawn bridle--in sooth 'twas a
gallant band--
Then to the queen's dressing-chamber he led Parzival by the
hand,
('Twas a small tent made of buckram,) and there, in the
waxing light,
His harness they take from off him ere he pass to his lady's
sight.
And the queen she knew naught of his coming--her twin sons
beside her lay, 225
Lohengrin and Kardeiss; and their father, methinks he was
glad that day!
There he found them slumbering sweetly, in a tent both high
and wide,
And many a lovely lady lay sleeping on either side.
Then Kiot, he drew the covering from the queen, and he bade
her wake,
And look, and laugh, and be joyful, and her love to her arms
to take; 230
And she looked up and saw her husband; and naught but her
smock she bare,
The covering she wrapt around her, and sprang swift on the
carpet fair,
Kondwiramur, the lovely lady--and Parzival held her tight,
And they say that they kissed each other, the queen and her
faithful knight.
'Thou joy of my heart! Good Fortune hath sent thee again to
me,' 235
She quoth, and she bade him welcome, 'Now in sooth I should
wrathful be,
Yet have I no heart for anger! Ah! blest be the dawn and the
day
That this dear embrace hath brought me, which all sorrow must
drive away.
For now at last have I found thee, whom my heart hath desired
so long,
And grief in my heart is vanquished, and sighing is turned to
song.' 240
And now from their sleep they wakened, both Lohengrin and
Kardeiss,
Naked they lay on their pillows, and fair in their father's
eyes,
And, joyful, Parzival kissed them whom he never had seen
before--
Then at Kiot's courteous bidding the babes from the tent they
bore,
And Kiot, he bade the maidens to get them from out the tent, 245
And they greeted their lord, long absent, ere yet on their
way they went.
Then he bade the queen care for her husband, and the maidens
from thence he led,
And the curtains they drew together, for as yet was the night
scarce sped.
Now if blood and snow had robbed him of his senses and wit of
yore,
(In this self-same spot its message the snow to his true
heart bore,) 250
For such sorrow she well repaid him, Kondwiramur, his wife--
Nor elsewhere had he sought love's solace in payment for
love's fierce strife,
Tho' many their love had proffered--I ween that in bliss he
lay,
And converse sweet, till morning drew nigh to the middle day.
And the army, they rode together, on the Templars had they
gazed, 255
And their shields in jousts were piercèd, and with many a
sword-blow grazed;
And each knight he wore a surcoat of silk or of velvet rare,
And their feet were shod with iron, nor harness beside they
bare.
Nor longer they cared to slumber--Then the queen alike and
king
Arose, and e'en as they bade him, a priest the Mass would
sing; 260
And closely they thronged together, that army, brave and
good,
Who in their queen's day of peril her shield 'gainst Klamidé
stood.
Then, the benediction given, his men greeted Parzival,
Many gallant knights and worthy, their true words from true
lips must fall.
From the tent they take the hangings, and the king spake,
'Say which is he, 265
Of my boys, who henceforward ruler of your folk and your land
shall be?'
And further he spake to the princes, 'Both Waleis and
Norgal's land,
And their towns, Kingrivals and Kanvoleis, by his birthright
shall serve his hand,
With Béalzenan and Anjou, should he grow unto man's estate;
And thither shall ye fare with him, and shall there on his
bidding wait. 270
Gamuret was he called, my father, and he left them to me, his
heir,
But I, by God's grace, have won me an heritage yet more fair!
Since the Grail shall be mine, I bid ye your fealty to swear
anew
To my child, ere this hour be ended, if your hearts shall to
me be true!'
And of right goodwill they did this--Ye saw many proud
banners wave, 275
And two little hands the tenure of many a wide land gave.
And there did they crown Kardeiss king; and, when many a year
had flown,
Kanvoleis, and Gamuret's kingdom they needs must his lordship
own--
And then by Plimizöl's water did they measure a circle wide
That there a feast might be holden ere again on their way
they ride. 280
Nor long at the board they tarried; no longer the host might
stay,
The tents were struck, with their child-king they wended
their homeward way.
And many a maid and vassal must bid to their queen Farewell
In such wise that they made loud mourning, and many a
teardrop fell.
And Lohengrin and his mother did the Templars take in their
care, 285
And with them to the Burg of Monsalväsch again on their
journey fare.
Quoth Parzival, 'Once in this woodland an hermitage did I
see,
And thro' it a rippling brooklet flowed swift on its way so
free;
If ye know where it stands ye shall show me.' His comrades
swift answer gave,
They knew one; 'There dwells a maiden, and she weeps o'er her
true love's grave; 290
A shrine of all goodness is she--Our road it doth lead that
way,
And her heart is ne'er free from sorrow.' 'That maid will we
see to-day,'
Quoth Parzival, and the others, as he willed, so they thought
it good,
And onward they spurred their chargers, and rode thro' the
lonely wood.
And they found, in the dusk of the evening, on her knees
Siguné dead, 295
And the queen wept for bitter sorrow--Then they brake thro'
unto the maid;
Parzival, for the sake of his cousin, bade them raise of the
tomb the stone,
There, embalmed lay Schionatulander, nor long should he lie
alone,
For beside him they laid the maiden, who in life to him true
love gave
In such wise as beseemed a maiden, and they closed o'er the
twain the grave. 300
And she wept for her uncle's daughter, the queen, with a
faithful heart;
Schoysiané, the dead maid's mother, had shown her a mother's
part,
And had cared for her in her childhood, and therefore she
sorrow knew:
And Parzival's aunt, too, was she, if the tale Kiot read be
true.
Kiot knew not the death of his daughter, he was guardian to
King Kardeiss-- 305
(Nor my tale like the bow shall be bended, but straight as an
arrow flies,)
They delayed not upon their journey, to Monsalväsch they came
by night,
And the hours Feirefis must wait them sped swift in their
joyful flight.
And they lighted many a taper, 'twas as flamed all the
woodland wide,
And a Templar of Patrigalt, armèd, by the queen's bridle rein
did ride; 310
And broad and wide was the courtyard, and many a host stood
there,
And they welcomed the queen, and a greeting to their lord and
his son they bare;
And they bore Lohengrin to his uncle, Feirefis, who was black
and white,
And the babe turned aside nor would kiss him--as children oft
do from fright!
But gaily he laughed, the heathen--Then they gat them from
out the court, 315
When first the queen had dismounted, who joy with her coming
brought--
And they led the guests so noble, where, with many a lady
fair,
Both Feirefis and Anfortas awaited them on the stair.
Répanse de Schoie, and from Greenland, Garschiloie, the fair
of face,
Florie of Lünel, the bright-eyed, rich were they in maiden
grace. 320
There she stood, than a reed more graceful, to whom beauty
nor truth should fail,
The daughter of Reil's lord, Jernis, as Anflisé the maid they
hail;
And of Tenabroc, maid Clarischanz, sweet was she, and bright
to see,
And so slender her shape, I think me, an ant's scarce might
slighter be.
Feirefis stepped toward his hostess, and he kissed her e'en
as she bade, 325
And a kiss did she give Anfortas, for she joyed that his woe
was stayed.
Feirefis by the hand must lead her where her husband's aunt
she found,
Répanse de Schoie, and she kissed her, and the maidens who
stood around,
And her lips that were red aforetime thro' kissing grew yet
more red,
(And sorely I ween doth it grieve me, that this labour, I, in
her stead, 330
Might not here have taken on me, for weary in sooth was she;)
Then her maids by the hand they take her, and they lead her
in courteously.
And the knights, in the hall they waited, that with countless
tapers bright
Was decked, on the walls they sparkled, and burnt with a
steady light,
For a solemn feast they made ready, when the Grail should be
shown to all; 335
For it was not on every feast-day, that they bare It thro'
the hall,
But on high festivals only--When nearer their aid should
draw,
On that even when joy forsook them, and the bleeding spear
they saw,
'Twas then, that the Grail might help them, that It thus
thro' the hall was borne--
Yet Parzival asked no question, and left them of joy
forlorn-- 340
But now, in joy and gladness, might they look on the Grail
again,
For at last was their mourning ended, and their sorrow was
pierced and slain!
When the queen her riding garment had put off, and decked her
hair,
She came in such garb as beseemed her, in the light of the
tapers fair;
And Feirefis stepped to meet her, and he took her by the
hand, 345
And no man gainsaid his fellow, that in this, or in other
land,
None might speak of a fairer woman! And rich was the garb she
wore,
A silk by a skilled hand woven, such as Sarant had wrought of
yore,
And with cunning and skill had fashioned in Thasmé, the
paynim town--
Feirefis Angevin, he led her thro' the palace hall adown, 350
And the three great fires they burnt there with Lignum aloe
sweet;
And more there were by forty, both carpets alike and seats,
Than the time when Parzival sat there and looked on the
wondrous Grail,
But one seat above all was costly, nor the host to his place
should fail.
And Feirefis, and Anfortas, they should sit there beside the
king-- 355
And, courteous, they did them service, who the Grail to the
hall should bring.
Aforetime methinks ye heard it, how they to Anfortas bare
The Grail, even so would they do now 'fore the child of King
Tampentäre,
And Gamuret's son--The maidens, no longer they make delay,
Five-and-twenty in rightful order they wend thro' the hall
their way. 360
And Feirefis gazed on the first maid, with her sweet face and
waving hair,
And she pleased him well, yet the others who followed were
yet more fair;
And costly and rich their garments, and lovely each maiden's
face,
But Répanse de Schoie, who followed, was first in her maiden
grace,
And the Grail, so men have told me, might be borne by her
hands alone; 365
Pure was her heart, and radiant as sunlight her fair face
shone.
Did I tell ye of all the service--how many did water pour,
And the tables they bare, (I wot well far more than they had
of yore,)
How discord fled from the palace; how the cars on their
circuit rolled,
With their freight of golden vessels, 'twere long ere the
tale were told. 370
For the sake of speed would I hasten--with reverence from the
Grail
Each took of the fowl of the forest, wild or tame, nor their
drink should fail;
Each took wine or mead as it pleased him, Claret, Morass, or
Sinopel;
At Pelrapär 'twas far other, as Gamuret's son might tell!
Then the heathen would know the wonder--What hands did these
gold cups fill 375
That stood empty here before him? The wonder, it pleased him
still!
Then answered the fair Anfortas, who sat by the heathen's
side,
'Seest thou not the Grail before thee?' But Feirefis replied,
'Naught I see but a green Achmardi, that my Lady but now did
bear,
I mean her who stands before us with the crown on her flowing
hair, 380
And her look to mine heart hath piercèd--I deemed I so strong
should be
That never a wife nor a maiden my gladness should take from
me;
But now doth it sore displease me, the love I may call mine
own--
Discourteous indeed I think me to make unto thee my moan
When I never have done thee service! What profits my wealth,
I trow, 385
Or the deeds I have done for fair women, or the gifts that I
gave but now,
Since here I must live in anguish! Nay, Jupiter, thou wast
fain
I should ride here, didst hither send me to torment of grief
and pain?'
And the strength of his love, and his sorrow, turned him pale
where he erst was light--
Kondwiramur, she had found a rival in this maiden's beauty
bright-- 390
In her love-meshes did she hold him, Feirefis, the noble
guest,
And the love that he erst had cherished he cast it from out
his breast.
What recked he of Sekundillé, her love, and her land so fair,
Since she wrought on him woe so bitter, this maiden beyond
compare?
Klauditté, and Sekundillé, Olympia, and many more, 395
Who in distant lands had repaid him with love for his deeds
of yore,
What cared he now for their kindness? It seemed but a
worthless thing
To Gamuret's son, the heathen, great Zassamank's noble king!
Then he saw, the fair Anfortas, his comrade in pain so sore,
(For the spots in his skin waxed pallid, and heavy the heart
he bore,) 400
And he spake, 'Sir Knight, it doth grieve me if thou dost for
my sister mourn,
No man for her sake hath sorrowed since the day that the maid
was born.
No knight for her joust hath ridden; to none doth she favour
show;
But with me did she dwell at Monsalväsch, and hath shared in
my bitter woe,
And it somewhat hath dimmed her beauty, since she seldom hath
joyful been-- 405
Thy brother is son to her sister, he may help thee in this I
ween.'
'If that maiden shall be thy sister,' quoth Feirefis Angevin,
'Who the crown on her loose locks weareth, then help me her
love to win.
'Tis she that my heart desireth--What honour mine hand hath
won
With shield and spear in Tourney, for her sake hath it all
been done, 410
And I would she might now reward me! The Tourney hath
fashions five,
And well known unto me is each one, nor against knightly rule
I strive.
Spear in rest 'gainst the foe have I ridden; I have smitten
him from the side;
His onslaught have I avoided; nor to fair joust have failed
to ride
In gallop, as should beseem me; I have followed the flying
foe-- 415
Since the shield, it hath been my safeguard, such sorrow I
ne'er may know
As that which to-day besets me--I have fought with a fiery
knight
At Agremontein, I bare then a shield of Asbestos bright,
And a surcoat of Salamander, else sure had I there been
burned;
And in sooth my life have I perilled, and my fame have I
dearly earned. 420
Ah! would but thy sister send me to battle for love's reward,
In strife would I do her bidding, and her fame and mine own
would guard.
And ever my heart fierce hatred to my god Jupiter shall bear,
If he make not an end of my sorrow, and give me this maiden
fair!'
Of the twain, Frimutel was the father, and therefore Anfortas
bore 425
E'en such face and such form as his sister--Then the heathen,
he looked once more
On the maiden and then on her brother--What they bare him of
drink or meat
No morsel he ate, yet he sat there as one who made feint to
eat.
Then to Parzival spake Anfortas, 'Sir King, it doth seem to
me
That thy brother, who sitteth by me, he faileth the Grail to
see!' 430
And Feirefis spake that he saw naught, nor knew what It was
'the Grail';
And they hearkened his words, the Templars, and a marvel they
deemed the tale.
And Titurel needs must hear it, in his chamber the old king
lay,
And he quoth, 'If he be a heathen, then such thought shall he
put away
As that eyes unbaptized may win them the power to behold the
Grail! 435
Such barriers are built around It, his sight to the task
shall fail.'
Then they bare to the hall these tidings, and the host and
Anfortas told
How that which the folk did nourish, Feirefis, he might ne'er
behold,
Since from heathen eyes It was hidden, and they prayed him to
seek the grace
Of Baptism, by its virtue he should win him in Heaven a
place. 440
'If I, for your sake, be baptizèd, will that help me to win
my love?'
Spake Gamuret's son, the heathen--'As a wind shall all
sorrows prove,
That wooing or war shall have brought me, to the grief that I
now must feel!
If long or short the time be since I first felt the touch of
steel,
And fought 'neath a shield, such anguish ne'er hath fallen
unto my share, 445
And tho' love should, I ween, be hidden, yet my heart would
its grief declare!'
'Of whom dost thou speak?' quoth the Waleis, 'Of none but
that lady bright,
Who is sister to this, thy comrade--If thou, as a faithful
knight,
Wilt help me to win the maiden, I will give her with kingly
hand
Great riches, and men shall hail her as queen over many a
land!' 450
'If to Baptism thou wilt yield thee,' spake the host, 'then
her love is thine,
(And as _thou_ I right well may hail thee, since the Grail
and Its realm are mine,
And our riches methinks are equal)'--Quoth Feirefis Angevin,
'Then help me to bliss, my brother, that the love of thine
aunt I win.
And, if Baptism be won by battle, then help me to strife I
pray, 455
That I, for sweet love's rewarding, may do service without
delay.
And mine ear well doth love the music when the spear-shafts
in splinters break,
And the helmet rings clear 'neath the sword-thrust, and the
war-cry the echo wakes.'
Then Parzival laughed out gaily, and Anfortas, he laughed yet
more,
'Nay, nay,' quoth the host, 'such blessing is no guerdon for
deeds of war. 460
I will give unto thee the maiden, by true Baptism's grace and
power,
But the god and the love of a heathen shalt thou leave in the
self-same hour;
And to-morrow, at early dawning, will I give to thee counsel
true,
Whose fruit shall be seen in the crowning of thy life with a
blessing new!'
Now Anfortas, before his sickness, in many a distant land 465
Had won him fair fame, for Love's sake, by the deeds of his
knightly hand.
And the thoughts of his heart were gentle, and generous he
was and free,
And his right hand had won full often the guerdon of victory;
So they sat in the wondrous presence of the Grail, three
heroes true,
The best of their day, and the bravest that sword-blade in
battle drew. 470
An ye will, they enough had eaten--They, courteous, the
tables bare
From the hall, and as serving-maidens, low bent they, those
maidens fair.
And Feirefis Angevin saw them as forth from the hall they
passed,
And in sorrow and deeper anguish I ween was the hero cast.
And she who his heart held captive, she bare from the hall
the Grail, 475
And leave did they crave of their monarch, nor his will to
their will should fail.
How the queen, herself, she passed hence; how men did their
task begin;
Of the bedding soft they brought him who for love's pain no
rest might win;
How one and all, the Templars, with kindness would put away
His grief, 'twere too long to tell ye--speak we now of the
dawning day. 480
In the light of the early morning came his brother, Parzival,
With the noble knight Anfortas, and in this wise the tale
they tell;
This knight who to love was captive, proud Zassamank's lord
and king,
They prayed, of true heart, to follow, and they would to the
Temple bring,
And before the Grail they led him--And there had they bidden
stand 485
The wisest men of the Templars--knights and servants, a
goodly band,
Were there ere the heathen entered: the Font was a ruby rare,
And it stood on a rounded pillar that of Jasper was fashioned
fair,
And of old Titurel, he gave it, and the cost was great I
ween--
Then Parzival spake to his brother, 'This maid wouldst thou
have for queen, 490
Then the gods thou hast served henceforward thou shalt for
her sake forswear,
And ever thine arms, as a true knight, 'gainst the foes of
the true God bear,
And, faithful, still do His bidding'--'Yea, aught that may
win my love,'
Quoth the heathen, 'I'll do right gladly, and my deeds shall
my truth approve.'
Now the Font, toward the Grail had they turned it, filled
with water, nor hot nor cold, 495
And a priest by its side did wait them, and grey-haired he
was, and old;
He had plunged 'neath baptismal waters full many a paynim
child,
And he spake to the noble heathen, and gentle his speech and
mild--
'If thy soul thou wouldst wrest from the Devil, thou shalt
serve Him who reigns on high,
And Threefold is He, yet but One God for aye is the Trinity. 500
God is Man, and the Word of His Father, God is Father at once
and Son,
And alike shall the twain be honoured, and the Spirit with
them is One!
In the Threefold Name shall it cleanse thee, this water, with
Threefold might,
And from shadow of heathen darkness shalt thou pass into
Christian light.
In water was He baptizèd, in Whose likeness was Adam made, 505
And each tree from the water draweth its sap, and its leafy
shade.
By water all flesh is nourished, and all that on earth doth
live,
And the eyes of man are quickened, such virtue doth water
give;
And many a soul it cleanseth, till it shineth so pure and
white
That the angels themselves in heaven methinks shall be scarce
so bright!' 510
To the priest then he spake, the heathen, 'If it bringeth me
ease for woe
I will swear whatsoe'er thou biddest--If reward in her love I
know,
Then gladly I'll do His bidding--Yea, brother, I here believe
In the God of my love, and for her sake all other gods I'll
leave,
(For such sorrow as she hath brought me I never have known
before,) 515
And it profiteth naught Sekundillé the love that to me she
bore,
And the honour that she hath done me--All that shall have
passed away--
In the Name of the God of my father would I fain be baptized
to-day!'
Then the priest laid his hands upon him, and the blessing
baptismal gave,
And he did on the chrisom vesture, and he won what his soul
did crave, 520
For e'en as he was baptizèd they made ready the maiden mild,
And for christening gift they gave him King Frimutel's lovely
child.
From his eyes had the Grail been hidden ere baptismal waters
bright
Had passed o'er his head, but henceforward, 'twas unveiled to
his wondering sight,
And, e'en as the rite was over, on the Grail they this
writing read; 525
'The Templar whom God henceforward to a strange folk should
send as head,
Must forbid all word or question of his country, or name, or
race,
If they willed he aright should help them, and they would in
his sight find grace.
For the day that they ask the question that folk must he
leave straightway'--
Since the time that their king, Anfortas, so long in his
anguish lay, 530
And the question o'er-long awaited, all questions but please
them ill,
The knights of the Grail, and no man doth question them with
their will.
Then, baptized, Feirefis the Christian to Anfortas made
urgent prayer,
He should ride with him to his kingdom, and his riches with
him should share;
But, with courtesy, Anfortas to the knight and his prayer
said 'Nay, 535
Naught shall hinder the willing service that to God I would
give alway;
'Tis a goodly crown, the Grail crown, thro' pride was it lost
to me,
Henceforth do I choose as my portion a life of humility,
And riches and love of women shall be strangers unto my
heart--
Thou leadest with thee a fair wife, henceforth shall it be
her part 540
With true love to reward thy service, as to women is fit and
fair,
But I for the love of mine Order henceforward mine arms will
bear;
For the Grail and Its service only I many a joust will ride,
But I fight never more for women--thro' a woman did ill
betide!
Yet no hatred I bear to women, high courage and joy they give 545
Unto men, tho' _I_ won but sorrow while I did in their
service live.'
But yet, for the sake of his sister, Feirefis rested not to
pray
That Anfortas should journey with them, but ever he said them
nay.
Then he prayed Lohengrin should fare with him, but the
mother, she willed it not;
And King Parzival spake, 'In the service of the Grail hath he
part and lot, 550
And my son, he is pledged to the Order, and a faithful heart
and true
Must he bear in the holy service--God grant him the will
thereto!'
Then in joy and in fair diversion, till eleven days were
o'er,
Feirefis abode at Monsalväsch, on the twelfth would he ride
once-more,
He would lead his wife, this rich man, to his army that yet
did wait 555
His coming, and Parzival sorrowed for the brother he won so
late,
And mourned sore when he heard the tidings--Then counsel he
took straightway,
And a goodly force of the Templars did he send with them on
their way,
Thro' the woodland paths should they guide them--Anfortas,
the gallant knight,
Himself fain would be their escort--sore wept many maidens
bright. 560
And new pathways they needs must cut them to Karkobra's city
fair--
Then Anfortas, he sent a message to him who was Burg-grave
there;
And he bade him, if aye of aforetime rich gifts from his hand
he won
To bethink him, that so this service of true heart by him be
done;
His brother-in-law with his lady, the king's sister, he now
must guide 565
Thro' the wood Loehprisein, where the haven afar lieth wild
and wide--
For now 'twas the hour of parting, nor further the knights
must fare,
But Anfortas, he spake to Kondrie, and he bade her the
message bear.
Then from Feirefis, the rich man, the Templars leave did
pray,
And the courteous knight and noble rode hence on his homeward
way. 570
And the Burg-grave no whit delayed him, but he did e'en at
Kondrie's word,
And gave welcome fair and knightly to the folk and their
noble lord.
Nor might Feirefis grow weary of his stay, at the dawn of
day,
With many a knight as escort, they guided him on his way.
But I know not how far he had ridden, nor the countries his
eyes had seen 575
Ere he came once more to Ioflanz, and its meadow, so fair and
green.
And some of the folk yet abode there--and Feirefis fain had
known,
In the self-same hour, the tidings of whither the host had
flown;
For each one had sought his country, and the road that full
well he knew--
King Arthur to Camelot journeyed with many a hero true-- 580
Then he of Tribalibot hastened, and his army he sought once
more,
For his ships lay yet in the haven, and they grieved for
their lord full sore
And his coming brought joy and courage to many a hero bold--
The Burg-grave and his knights from Karkobra he rewarded with
gifts and gold--
And strange news did they tell unto Kondrie, for messengers
sought the host, 585
Sekundillé was dead; with the tidings they many a sea had
crossed.
Then first in her distant journey did Répanse de Schoie find
joy,
And in India's realm hereafter did she bear to the king a
boy;
And _Prester John_ they called him, and he won to himself
such fame
That henceforward all kings of his country were known by no
other name. 590
And Feirefis sent a writing thro' the kingdoms whose crown he
bore,
And the Christian Faith was honoured as it never had been of
yore.
(And Tribalibot was that country which as _India_ here we
know.)
Then Feirefis spake to Kondrie, and he bade her his brother
show
(Who reigneth in far Monsalväsch) what had chanced unto him,
the king, 595
And the death of Queen Sekundillé--and the tidings the maid
did bring;
And Anfortas was glad and joyful to think that his sister
fair,
Without or strife or conflict, the crown of those lands might
bear.
Now aright have ye heard the story of the children of
Frimutel,
Five they were, and three are living, and death unto two
befell. 600
And the one was Schoysiané, who was pure in the sight of God,
And the other was Herzeleide, and falsehood her soul
abhorred;
And the sword and the life of knighthood, Trevrezent, he had
laid them down
For the love of God, and His service, and the hope of a
deathless crown.
And the gallant knight, Anfortas, pure heart and strong hand
he bore, 605
And well for the Grail he jousted, but for women he fought no
more.
And Lohengrin grew to manhood, and cowardice from him flew,
And his heart yearned for deeds of knighthood, to the Grail
he did service true.
Would ye further hear the story? A maiden, in days of yore,
Whose heart was free from falsehood, the crown of a fair land
bore-- 610
Her heirdom was rich and noble, and lowly and pure her heart,
And no taint of earthly longing had found in her soul a part.
And wooers she had in plenty, of crownèd kings, I ween,
And princes, whose race and kingdom fit mate for her own had
been.
Yet so humble she was, the maiden, she thought not of earthly
love-- 615
And the counts of her realm waxed wrathful, since no pleading
her soul could move,
And their anger raged hot against her that she gave not her
maiden hand
To one who should be fit ruler o'er her folk, and her goodly
land.
In God was her trust, whatever men might in their anger
speak,
And guiltless, she bare the vengeance her folk on her head
would wreak. 620
But she called of her land the princes, and they journeyed
from far and near,
From many a distant country, the will of their queen to hear.
And she sware she would have no husband, and no man as her
lord would own
Save him whom God's Hand should send her, his love would she
wait alone.
Of the land of Brabant was she princess--From Monsalväsch he
came, the knight 625
Whom God at His will should send her, and his guide was a
swan so white.
He set foot in her land at Antwerp, and she knew that her
heart spake true,
And gallant was he to look on, and all men the hero knew
For a noble knight and manly, and his face, it was wondrous
fair,
And his fame was in every kingdom where men did his deeds
declare. 630
And a wise man he was, free-handed, with never a doubting
heart,
And faithful and true, and falsehood it found in his life no
part.
A fair welcome the princess gave him--now list ye unto his
rede,
Rich and poor stood there around him, and they gave to his
words good heed,
And he spake thus, 'My Lady Duchess, if thou wilt not mine
hand refuse, 635
But wilt have me for lord and husband, for thy sake I a
kingdom lose--
But hearken to what I pray thee, ask thou never who I may be,
And seek not to know my country, for so may I abide with
thee.
In the day thou dost ask the question of my love shalt thou
be bereft--
Take thou warning, lest God recall me to the land which
erewhile I left.' 640
Then she pledged her faith as a woman that her love, it
should ne'er wax less,
She would do e'en as he should bid her, and never his will
transgress
So long as God wit should give her--Her love did he win that
night,
And Lord of Brabant and its Duchess they hailed him with
morning light.
And the marriage feast was costly, and many a knight the land 645
That of right should be his, as vassal, must take from his
princely hand.
For he gave ever righteous judgment, and many a gallant deed
Of knighthood he did, and, valiant, he won of fair fame his
meed.
Fair children were born unto them--The folk of Brabant yet
know
Of the twain, how he came unto them, and wherefore he thence
must go, 650
And how long he dwelt among them ere her question broke the
spell,
And drove him forth, unwilling, for so shall the story tell.
The friendly swan, it sought him, and a little boat did
bring,
And he sailed thence, and left as tokens his sword, and his
horn, and ring.
So _Lohengrin_ passed from among them, for in sooth this
gallant knight 655
Was Parzival's son, and none other, if the tale ye would know
aright.
By water-ways he sought it, the home of the Grail, again--
And what of the lovely duchess who longed for her lord in
vain?
Why drove she hence her true love? since he bade her be
warned of yore,
And forbade her to ask the question when he landed on
Brabant's shore-- 660
Here Herr Erec should speak, for, I think me, he knoweth the
tale to tell
Of revenging for broken pledges, and the fate that such
speech befell!
If Chrêtien of Troyes, the master, hath done to this tale a
wrong,
Then _Kiot_ may well be wrathful, for he taught us aright the
song,
To the end the Provençal told it--How Herzeleide's son the
Grail 665
Did win, as was fore-ordainèd when Anfortas thereto did fail.
And thus, from Provence, the story to the German land was
brought,
And aright was it told, and the story doth lack in its ending
naught.
I, Wolfram of Eschenbach, think me that here-of will I speak
no more--
Of Parzival's race, and his kindred, of that have I told
afore; 670
To the goal of his bliss have I brought him--he whose life
such an end shall gain,
That his soul doth not forfeit Heaven for sins that his flesh
shall stain,
And yet, as true man and worthy, the world's favour and grace
doth keep
Hath done well, nor hath lost his labour, nor his fame shall
hereafter sleep!
And if good and gracious women shall think I be worthy
praise, 675
Since I tell to its end my story, then joyful shall be my
days.
And since for the love of a woman I have sung it, this song
of old,
I would that, in sweet words gentle, my guerdon by her be
told!
APPENDICES
EXCURSUS A
WOLFRAM'S SOURCE
In examining into the source whence Wolfram derived this poem, it may
be well to restate briefly the problem as indicated in the Preface.
We may take it as an acknowledged fact, disputed by none, that for
the bulk of his work, from the commencement of Books III. to XIII.,
and inclusive of part of the latter, Wolfram drew from a French
source; he himself says that this source was the poem of 'Kiot the
Provençal,' and, while acquainted with the work of Chrêtien de Troyes,
he distinctly avows his preference for Kiot over Chrêtien, saying that
Chrêtien had told the story wrongly, for which Kiot might well be
wrathful with him. From this we gather that, granting the existence of
the two French versions, Kiot's had preceded Chrêtien's.
The difficulties in the way of accepting Wolfram's own definite
statement are twofold: first, that no trace of such a poem, or such
a poet, exists (which in itself is not an insuperable difficulty);
second, and more serious, that we do possess the poem of Chrêtien de
Troyes, and that it presents such striking features of similarity to
Wolfram's version that it is clear that if one were not the source of
the other, there is a common source at the root of both.
Now, of Chrêtien's source he only tells us that Count Philip of
Flanders gave him the book in which he found this story of Perceval and
the Grail, but of the author of the book he says no word. Of Kiot's
source, Wolfram tells us that the story of the origin of the Grail was
found in a MS. at Toledo, written in Arabic by a heathen astronomer,
Flegetanis; and it also appears, from a passage in Book VIII. p. 238,
that the story of Parzival was contained in the same MS. That Kiot
then sought through the chronicles of various countries for some
confirmation of the tale, and finally found the record of the Grail
kings in the chronicles of Anjou.
Of the sources thus variously given, the book possessed by Count Philip
of Flanders, the Arabic MS. of Flegetanis, the Chronicles of Anjou,
and Kiot's poem founded upon these two last, the Chronicles of Anjou
alone remain to us; do they throw any light on the question or not?
It has long been asserted that they do _not_, and it is true that
they contain no record of the Grail kings, nor, though King Arthur
is mentioned, and treated as an historical personage, do we find
any mention of Mazadan, Gamuret, Herzeleide, and Parzival under the
same names; but it also seems equally clear that the writer of the
_Parzival_ knew the Chronicles of Anjou, and in the case of each of
the characters mentioned above it is not difficult to trace a distinct
correspondence between what is recorded in the _Parzival_ and real
personages and events of Angevin history. (A reference to Appendix
A, vol. i., 'on the Angevin allusions' will show how close in some
cases this parallel is.) Now we find that the greater number of these
allusions are contained in the earlier part of the poem, Books I., II.,
and III., some of the most striking, _e.g._ the account of the origin
of the Angevin House; the parallel between Gamuret and Fulk V.; and the
introduction of Herzeleide, being in the two first books; _i.e._ that
part of the poem peculiar to Wolfram's version is also the part of the
poem richest in indications of a knowledge of Angevin history.
The fact that Wolfram has an introduction, and a completion, to the
Perceval legend which agree perfectly one with the other, and are not
found elsewhere, naturally leads to the inference that he either had
a source other than Chrêtien, or that he invented the books himself;
which latter Simrock claims to have been the case. In a case of this
kind, where there is an utter lack of external testimony to help us,
we can only judge from the internal evidence of the work itself, and
here we are met at the outset by the startling phenomenon of a poem,
ascribed to the invention of a _German_ poet, abounding in allusions
to a contemporary _French_ line of princes, and evidently designed for
the glorification of that house. It is perfectly true that the princely
family in question had risen to a point of greatness that resulted in
their dominating for some years European politics, but, in the absence
of any testimony connecting Wolfram with the House of Anjou, we are at
least entitled to ask how he possibly came to give such a colour to his
poem. It is impossible to avoid being perplexed by such questions as
these; how did Wolfram come to be so familiar with the early history of
the Angevin counts? If he wished to glorify any reigning prince why did
he not choose a German, say Hermann of Thuringia, rather than lead to
the suspicion that he wished to compliment a house represented at the
time _he_ wrote by its very worst and weakest descendant, John of Anjou
and England? Why did he lay the adventures of his hero's father in the
East, and bring into the story the curious and enigmatic personality
of Feirefis, and, having invented him, give him a name of undoubted
_French_ origin? And even if we pass over the difficulties of the first
two books we are met by other questions just as puzzling, _e.g._ why
did Wolfram, who had so high an idea of fidelity to his source, and
who blamed so strongly the leading poet of his day for the fault of
departing from his supposed model, represent the Grail and the dwellers
in Its castle in the light in which he did? There is no parallel to his
Grail-stone or the 'Templeisen' throughout the whole Grail literature,
and we cannot escape from the alternative of admitting that if Wolfram
did not invent all this he found it in a source unknown to us.
The problem of the Grail has been attempted to be solved by the
hypothesis of a misunderstanding of Chrêtien de Troyes, this solution
is of course _possible_, but it must be admitted that it has the
appearance rather of an ingenious evasion than an explanation of a
difficulty, and it holds good for nothing beyond the bare presentment
of the Grail as a _stone_. The Angevin problem, on the other hand, has
so far never been solved at all, and only its removal hinted at by
the suggestion that Walter Mapes was the author of Wolfram's source,
which of course admits that Wolfram _had_ a source other than Chrêtien,
and therefore by implication throws doubt on the above suggested
explanation of the Grail which is based on the supposition that
Chrêtien, and Chrêtien alone, was the source of Wolfram's information.
In fact, so long as we refuse to admit the truth of Wolfram's own
explicit statements, so long shall we find the interpretation of
the _Parzival_ beset with innumerable difficulties, the attempted
explanation of one part of the problem only rendering the remaining
portion more obscure; but if we will accept it as possible that Wolfram
gave a correct account of the source of his poem, and, divesting our
minds of all preconceived ideas in favour of this or that theory,
carefully examine the indications afforded by the poem itself, we
may find that there _is_ a solution which will meet, more or less
fully, all the difficulties which beset the question. Now, as remarked
above, when Wolfram wrote his poem the power of the Angevin House was
beginning to decline, the date assigned to the _Parzival_, with which
date all the internal evidences agree, is within the first fifteen
years of the thirteenth century, a period exactly corresponding to the
reign of John, and it may be the first two or three years of that of
his successor Henry III., and it was during the fatuous misgovernment
of these princes that the edifice so carefully built up by the early
Angevin counts fell to pieces. Works in glorification of any special
house or kingdom are not, as a rule, written during that house or
kingdom's period of decadence, rather during its time of growth and
aggrandisement, and we find as a fact that the events which led to
the accession of an Angevin count to the throne of England 'stirred
up, during the early years of Henry Fitz-Empress' reign, a spirit of
patriotic loyalty which led more than one of his subjects to collect
the floating popular traditions of his race, and weave them into a
narrative which passed for a history of the Angevin counts.' (Cf.
_England under the Angevin Kings_, vol. ii. p. 195.) It is therefore
to this period rather than to a later date, _i.e._ to Wolfram's source
rather than to Wolfram himself, that historical testimony would bid
us assign the Angevin allusions. History also forbids us to assume
that _Chrêtien_ could have been the source of Wolfram's information;
Chrêtien was of Troyes, in Champagne, therefore an adherent of the
House of Blois who were hereditary foes of the Angevin counts, and not
without reason, as the latter were most undesirable neighbours, and
never lost a chance of increasing their dominions at the expense of
their fellow-princes. At one time or another, either by marriage or by
conquest, they annexed all the surrounding estates (though they grasped
considerably more than they could permanently hold), and after the
marriage of Henry Fitz-Empress with Eleanor of Aquitaine, the heiress
of Poitou and Guyenne, and of his son Geoffrey with Constance of
Brittany, the whole of the coast-line of France belonged to the Angevin
possessions. It was not surprising that princes of such an acquisitive
nature should have many enemies, and when Henry's sons rebelled
against him they were not without friends to back them up, among them,
apparently, was the very Count Philip of Flanders from whom Chrêtien
received the book from whence he drew his poem. If then Wolfram in
his first two books was following a French poet, that poet was _not_
Chrêtien.
But if the Angevin counts had many foes they had also many adherents,
not only in Europe but in the East, their connection with which dated
back to the reign of Fulk Nerra, or Fulk the Palmer. It was not to a
member of an unknown house that Baldwin, king of Jerusalem, in 1129
sent an invitation to become his son-in-law and successor; nor did
Fulk, when he left Anjou for Jerusalem, go alone--we are expressly told
that he took a large army with him. Fulk himself died in 1142, but he
left sons who succeeded him, so that the Angevin rule in the East did
not end with his death.
Is it then impossible, or even improbable, that this 'Kiot the
Provençal' of whom Wolfram speaks was an adherent of the House of
Anjou, who had followed their fortunes in the East, and who, coming
under the spell of the Grail myth in its connection with the Perceval
legend, remodelled the story, probably then still in a rough and
transitional form, in accordance with his own personal experiences
and prepossessions? Do not all the indications afforded by the poem
favour this theory? Such a man would have been thoroughly familiar
with the legends that had gathered round the early Angevin princes, as
well as with the historical facts connected with their successors; he
would have come into contact with the Order of the Knights Templars
in a land where they were in deed, and not merely in name, guardians
of the Faith; he would be familiar with many a legend of precious
stones, the favourite talisman of the East, and would know the special
virtue ascribed to each; above all, he would have seen before him in
a concrete form the contest between faith and unbelief, darkness and
light, Christianity and Heathendom, a black race and a white, which
forms at least one of the leading ideas in the interpretation of the
poem.
In fact, if we will allow the existence of such a writer as a travelled
Angevin might well have been, we shall find all the principal problems
of the _Parzival_ admit of a rational explanation. Even the central
puzzle, Wolfram's representation of the Grail, is explicable on such
an hypothesis. We know how very vague Chrêtien's account of the Grail
is; how much in the dark he leaves us as to Its outward form, Its
influence, and Its origin. A writer _before_ Chrêtien is scarcely
likely to have been more explicit; what more likely than that a man
long resident in the East, and familiar, as has been said above, with
Eastern jewel talismans and the legends connected with them, when
confronted with this mysterious Grail, of which no definite account
was given, yet which apparently exercised a magical life-sustaining
influence, should have jumped to the conclusion of Its, at least
partial, identity with the precious stones of the power of which he had
heard so much?
And in connection with this it is worthy of note that Wolfram
represents the Grail as lying on a _green_ Achmardi; in other versions
of the Grail romances it is red, or white, samite that we find
mentioned as veiling the relic. Throughout the poem we find _green_
constantly mentioned, _e.g._ Gamuret's equipment, the robes of the
Grail maidens and of Gramoflanz, the cross over Gamuret's grave,
Trevrezent's shrine or reliquary; all these allusions seem to point
to the writer's familiarity with green as a royal and sacred colour,
a knowledge which could only have been gained in the East. Nor, as
mentioned in note to Book IX., is the description of the Grail the only
instance of a mystical influence being attributed to a precious stone,
but throughout the whole poem the constant mention of gems, and, in
special instances, of the virtue they possess, is one of the marked
peculiarities of the poem, and one of the features which differentiate
it from Chrêtien's version.
That Wolfram had a model for these earlier books, and one that he was
following closely, appears from the description he gives in two places
of Kailet's armour; in Book I. we find '_do rekande ich abr wol dinen
strûs, ame schilde ein sarapandra test_,' and in Book II. '_stit dîn
strûs noch sunder nest? Du solt din sarapandra test gein sinem halben
grîfen tragen_,' where in both instances it is distinctly implied that
Kailet had _two_ badges, an ostrich on his helmet and a snake's head on
his shield, which is, to say the least, extremely unlikely. What seems
to be really meant is that Kailet carried the figure of the entire bird
on his helmet, and a representation of its head on his shield; the
likeness in the shape of the latter to a snake's head has often been
commented upon, and the ostrich, from its curious head and neck, has
been known as 'the serpent bird.' It seems clear that here at least
Wolfram was following another description, and one which he did not
altogether understand.
As to the conclusion to be drawn from the proper names which occur
in such profusion throughout the poem, this question has been so
fully treated by Bartsch (cf. vol. i. Appendix B) that it would be
superfluous to discuss it here; and the correspondence between the
Titurel poems and the Parzival, which argues a common source for both,
has also been adequately discussed, but the addition of the arguments
to be derived from the correspondence existing between Wolfram's
Angevin allusions and the facts of Angevin history, seems to put it
beyond doubt that there is a strong body of evidence in support of
Wolfram's own statement that he had a French source other than Chrêtien
de Troyes; and, if we admit that he spoke the truth so far, it seems
only logical to believe that he was also speaking the truth when he
gave the name of the author of his source as '_Kiot the Provençal_.'
EXCURSUS B
RELATION OF WOLFRAM TO CHRÊTIEN
In explanation of the striking agreement which exists between the
_Parzival_ of Wolfram von Eschenbach and that part of _Li Conte del
Graal_ which we owe to Chrêtien de Troyes, three solutions may be
suggested: (_a_) That Chrêtien was the source of Wolfram; (_b_) That
Chrêtien and Wolfram both drew from a common source, that source, if
Wolfram is to be believed, being Kiot; (_c_) That Chrêtien, who wrote
before Wolfram, drew from a source anterior to Wolfram, which source
was also used by Kiot.
For reasons already stated we may dismiss (_a_) without further
argument, and accept Wolfram's statement as to the existence of
a French poem other than Chrêtien's; but the question as to the
relationship existing between these two poems, whether the one was
directly the source of the other (as Wolfram seems to have supposed),
or whether both represent a common source, requires to be carefully
examined.
The principal difference between the _Parzival_ and the _Conte del
Graal_ is in the Introduction, which is missing entirely in Chrêtien,
whose account of Perceval's father and of his death is at variance
with all the other versions, and has been supplemented by a later
Introduction, more in harmony with what seems to have been accepted as
the original form of the story, _i.e._ with the fact of the death of
the hero's father _before_ his birth, and the flight of the _widowed_
mother into the woods. Now, it is of course quite possible, it is
even highly probable, that Chrêtien, had he known a version of the
story such as Wolfram gives, would have rejected it on account of its
connection with the House of Anjou, but we cannot base any argument
on the absence of this introduction, since Chrêtien left his poem
unfinished at a point before the close connection between the first
two books and the ending of the story becomes apparent in Wolfram.
Had Chrêtien lived to complete his work we should have then been in a
better position to judge whether he knew Kiot's poem and deliberately
set it on one side, or whether he was following another version.
Closely as the two poems agree, it is noticeable that, in more than one
instance, Chrêtien's version of an incident is more in harmony with the
story as told in other members of the Grail cycle than is Wolfram's;
_e.g._ Parzival's visit to the court of King Arthur, and Gawain's
adventure in the Château Merveil, both of which have been fully treated
in the Notes. It is curious also that in the three versions of the
story most closely agreeing, the _Conte del Graal_, _Parzival_, and
_Peredur_, we find the bleeding lance and the sword in each, while
for the 'Grail' talisman we have variously, an enigmatic object of
gold set with precious stones, a stone, and a bleeding head on a dish;
this variation seems to point to the conclusion that the lance and
sword, and not the 'Grail,' were the original features of the story;
and accordingly we find in Chrêtien that it is the lance, and not the
Grail, which Gawain goes to seek; and the lance is also treated at
greater length than is the Grail.
If Wolfram and Chrêtien were drawing from the same source it seems
strange that it is in the work of that one of the two who avowedly
places a high value on adherence to the traditional form of the story
that we miss just these archaic features.
Again, Wolfram and Chrêtien differ very decidedly in their presentment
of the Grail knights and their organisation; if so striking and
effective a feature existed in a source common to both, it is difficult
to understand why Chrêtien omitted it; he could have had no such grudge
against the Order of Templars as he would reasonably have against the
House of Anjou, and it is equally difficult to believe that if it was
_not_ in the source, Wolfram departed from his avowed principle of
fidelity so far as to introduce it.
We also find the same ideas introduced in a different context; thus,
when Perceval leaves his mother to go out into the world, among her
counsels the French poet includes, '_Preudom ne forconselle nie celui
ki tient sa compagnie_'; in Wolfram we have no such phrase, but when
Parzival arrives at Gurnemanz's Castle we find him saying, '_Mîn
muoter saget al wâr, Alt mannes rede stêt niht se vâr_,' which in the
Parzival she did _not_ say. It is evident that in the two versions
counsel and application have become separated, and in this case again
it seems more probable that the counsel would originally have been
given without the application, as by Chrêtien, than _vice versa_ as by
Wolfram. On the other hand, Mr. Nutt points out in his _Studies_ that
Perceval's recognition of the knights as _angels_ is quite at variance
with his mother's representation of armed men as _devils_, whereas in
the _Parzival_ the whole episode is clear and consistent. Here the
French poet has evidently dropped out something, and there are other
instances, such as the names of Gurnemanz's sons, in which the German
poem seems to have followed an older tradition.
But on the whole, a careful comparison of the two poems seems to show
that Wolfram's version is further removed from the original form of the
story than is Chrêtien's, and that therefore the probability is that
the common basis of the two poems was a work known to the two _French_
poets.
In support of this theory it may be noted as a curious fact that while
_Chrêtien_ avowedly bases his poem on a book given to him by the
Count of Flanders, _Wolfram's_ poem really contains more references
to Flanders than Chrêtien's does. Thus we have several allusions to
Lambekein, Duke of Brabant; Brandelidelein of Punturtois figures
prominently both in the second and in the later books, and his city
'Der Wazzervesten stat von Punt' (_punt_=_pont_=bridge) is suspiciously
like Bruges; to say nothing of the connection of the Lohengrin story
with Brabant and Antwerp. It has been pointed out already by critics
that Gerbert, one of Chrêtien's continuators, has the same connection
of the Grail winner with the knight of the swan, which seems to
indicate that the stories were not first connected by the _German_ poet
(Gerbert also connects with the Swan Knight with the Deliverer of the
Holy Sepulchre, an Oriental and Crusading feature quite in harmony with
what has been suggested with regard to Wolfram's French source).
On the whole, the evidence seems to point to the conclusion that the
source of Kiot's poem was identical with the book delivered to Chrêtien
by the Count of Flanders; and the connection between Wolfram and
Chrêtien is that of a source from which Chrêtien drew at first, Wolfram
at second hand, Wolfram's medium having treated the legend with far
more freedom and boldness than was common at that date.
EXCURSUS C
THE INTERPRETATION AND RELIGIOUS TEACHING OF THE POEM
The question of the interpretation to be placed upon the _Parzival_ is
one of the most important parts of the problem under discussion. As
a rule it has been treated apart from the question of the _source_,
for critics have been pretty generally unanimous in declaring that
whatever the authority followed as to the story, its employment as a
medium of ethical edification was due to Wolfram and to Wolfram alone.
But a careful examination of the poem seems to indicate that not only
were the first germs of a spiritual interpretation due to another and
older writer, but also that a very close and important connection
exists between the interpretation and the source, as alleged by Wolfram
himself.
Now, whether we are treating of the source or of the inner
signification of the poem, one of the most important elements in the
question is the character of Feirefis. That this curious personality
is as closely connected with the inner, as with the outer, development
of the story many critics have readily admitted, and therefore the
question of the _origin_ of the character becomes one of no little
importance. If we can prove that Feirefis is beyond doubt the invention
of Wolfram, then we have a strong argument for believing that the
ethical teaching is also entirely Wolfram's; but if the evidence
points the other way, and is in favour of the theory that Feirefis is
an integral part of the original French source, then there is strong
ground for believing that the semi-allegorical treatment of the subject
was also part of Kiot's scheme. Simrock feels this so strongly that he
advances the close connection of Feirefis alike with the _grund-idee_
of the poem and the first two books to prove that Wolfram _must_ have
written those books, since to him alone the moral teaching can be due.
But is the evidence in favour of the German authorship of these books?
Is it not, as we have shown in the discussion of the Angevin allusions,
distinctly _against_ such a conclusion? And here we must not overlook
the fact that the _Angevin_ parentage is insisted on far more strongly
in the case of Feirefis than in that of his brother; it seems indeed
as if the elder brother were regarded specially as the son of his
father, from first to last he is 'Feirefis Angevin,' whereas Parzival
is regarded more as the son of the mother through whom he is connected
with the mystic race of the Grail-kings, and bears throughout the title
of 'Waleis,' his mother's, not his father's, land.
A close study of the poem seems to show that it came into Wolfram's
hands an organic whole; in spite of the strong individuality of the
German poet which has stamped itself on every page, in spite of the
constant personal allusions, of the characteristic form into which
he has remoulded the story, we feel that he has never lost sight
of the original conception, but, even while working out his own
interpretation, has allowed the thread of his source to run unbroken,
if not untangled, to the end. And with that thread Feirefis is closely
inwoven; it is at the critical moment of Parzival's life, when the
conventional faith in God as the All-wise Ruler of the world, which
has been sufficient for his boyhood, fails him, that the hero first
learns the existence of his unknown brother, Feirefis Angevin; from
that point onward, whenever the story will admit of an allusion to
Feirefis, either directly, or indirectly through his love Sekundillé,
that allusion is introduced, so that as we draw towards the end of the
poem the mind is not unprepared for the appearance of Feirefis himself,
and the combat which is the last, as it is the most desperate, of
Parzival's trials. The breaking of the sword of Ither of Gaheviess, as
well as the exceptional nature of the conflict itself, is a distinct
indication of a special significance attached to the incident, and one
is not surprised to find that the conclusion of Parzival's probation
and his election to the Grail kingdom follow closely upon it. It
is impossible to believe that a personality so strange as that of
Feirefis, so closely connected with the hero of the poem, and brought
into special prominence at the turning-points of his career, means
nothing at all; and this when we have the contrast between Doubt and
Steadfastness, Darkness and Light, Black and White directly insisted
upon.
The original ethical idea seems to have been simple enough; the sin
of lack of faith in God, which mars an otherwise steadfast character.
Feirefis shows, in a concrete form, the contrast sketched in the
opening lines of Book I., and Parzival's final conflict with his
parti-coloured brother signified the final victory over Doubt which
rendered him worthy to win the Grail. The idea of working some such
_motif_ into the story may very likely have arisen from a wish to
supply a better and more adequate reason for Parzival's interview with
the Hermit, an episode which, as the _Parzival_ shows, is capable
of far finer treatment than it has received in any other version.
(It must not be forgotten that Parzival's passionate outbreak and
defiance of God is found nowhere else, and that the duty of trust in
God and reliance upon Him in the hour of trouble has been distinctly
part of his early teaching, and that there too the 'black and white'
contrast has been insisted upon.) The idea thus first suggested, the
circumstances of a residence in the East, where such a conflict between
light and darkness was actually being carried on, determined the form
into which it should be cast. It is extremely difficult to understand
how _Wolfram_, if he only possessed the Perceval legend in an
incomplete form, conceived the idea of supplementing it in this special
manner; but if _Kiot_ be responsible for the first introduction of the
religious idea, as he was of the Angevin, the problem becomes perfectly
easy, his conception of the struggle in the soul of man was simply a
reflection of the struggle as he saw it in the world.
(It cannot be too strongly insisted upon, that no princes of the day
were more strongly affected by the Crusading spirit, or more closely
connected with the East than the Angevin princes; and that to assume
on the part of one of their followers the familiarity with Crusading
ideas which is here ascribed to 'Kiot' is to do little more than state
a commonplace fact of history.)
But that the idea of the poem has, in a measure, undergone a change,
and that the _Parzival_ in its present shape owes much to the genius
of the man who, probably attracted by the ethical turn Kiot had given
to the story, took it into his own hands, and, remodelling it, sent
it forth to the world a heritage for all generations, may readily
be granted. No careful reader of the poem can fail to feel that the
interpretation is a double one; that if there are passages which seem
to treat of Faith and Doubt only as they affect the position of the
soul towards God, there are others which as clearly treat of the same
questions as affecting man's relation to his fellow-men; in which faith
is interpreted in its widest sense as a loyal fulfilment of _all_
obligations, social as well as religious; and that all this is summed
up and expressed in the inculcation of loyalty to the dictates of the
knightly order in their highest form.
Occasionally these two ideas obviously clash, as when in Book IX.
Trevrezent tells Parzival that the Grail cannot be won by human effort,
and asks, 'Wilt thou force thy God with thine anger?' and in Book XVI.
practically takes back his words and admits that this is what Parzival
_has_ done. The true solution of the puzzle seems to be neither in
interpreting the poem exclusively as an allegory of the struggle in the
soul of man, nor exclusively as a confession of faith in the knightly
order as a means of salvation, but rather in admitting that the poem
sets forth _both_ these views, and that the lines of thought cross and
recross and overlie one another according as Wolfram reproduced the
ideas of the older poet, or overlaid them with his own.
And if we will believe in the real personality of 'Kiot,' we may find
that the religious teaching of the poem gains a new significance;
deeply religious it undoubtedly is, full of a profound trust in God,
a deep conviction of the individual relationship existing between the
soul and its Maker, and a simple acceptance of the elementary doctrines
of Christianity, the Trinity, the Incarnation, and Its extension
through the initial Sacrament of Baptism; but with all this there is a
complete absence of ecclesiasticism, and a lack of features familiar to
us in other works of the day.
It is very curious that, constantly as Baptism is insisted upon as
essential to salvation, the equal necessity for the Second Great
Sacrament of the Faith is passed over. It is perfectly true that
Wolfram's knights attend Mass, and that Mass is apparently celebrated
with regularity, but here their obligation seems to end; never once do
we hear of one of his knights communicating, even Gamuret, when dying,
though he receives absolution, does not receive the viaticum (the
account of Vivians' death in _Willehalm_ seems to show that elsewhere
Wolfram, in common with other writers of the day, _did_ acknowledge
this necessity). Again, though Parzival comes to the Hermit's cell on
Good Friday, and spends fourteen days in his company, confessing and
receiving absolution, we have no mention of the Easter Communion in
the German poem, though we have in the French. In Book X. the wounded
knight, whom Gawain succours, asks to be helped to a _spital_ that his
wounds may be attended to; in Chrêtien's version he expresses his fear
of dying unabsolved and uncommunicated, and would seek a Hermit who
lives near at hand for that purpose. And this difference between the
two versions meets us at every turn; _Chrêtien_ abounds in allusions to
the hours of prayer; if he wishes to indicate the time when any special
event happens he mentions that it is just after Prime, or between
Tierce and Noon; Perceval says that if he finds his mother he will make
her a veiled nun, and the mother's counsels in the French poem are
emphatic on the subject of Perceval's religious duties, which Wolfram
wholly omits; Chrêtien's characters constantly invoke the saints, which
Wolfram's knights never do; when Parzival is in imminent danger of
death it is to his wife, and not to a patron saint, that he looks for
aid. Wolfram is always a religious poet, but, if we compare his other
important poem the _Willehalm_ with the _Parzival_, we cannot help
feeling that the former is decidedly more in harmony with the thought
of his day, and less curiously '_modern_' in tone than the latter.
It is difficult to resist the conviction that some of the special
peculiarities of the _Parzival_ are due to Wolfram's source quite as
much as to Wolfram himself.
It is a commonplace of history that one effect of the contact between
heathen and Christian races brought about by the Crusades was the
awakening of a spirit of tolerance between the brave men on either
side. In a day when manly strength and courage were accounted of such
value it was impossible that the existence of such qualities on the
side of the heathen should not, in the opinion of many, go far to
counterbalance their lack of Christianity; and it is certain that
among those long resident in the East such tolerance eventually led
to laxity in matters both of faith and practice. It was such laxity
that was the ostensible reason for the fall of the Knights Templars.
In the case of a poem, which otherwise gives indication of familiarity
with Oriental custom and tradition, is it unreasonable to suggest
that its peculiarities of religious treatment, its freedom from petty
ecclesiastical details, the breadth and tolerance of its views, and
the far more human ideal of virtue which it presents, may, at least in
part, be due to the influence of the Crusading spirit which we know
did, on the whole, make in these directions?
To sum up the entire question, the drift of the internal evidence
of the _Parzival_ seems to indicate that the author of Wolfram's
source was a warm partisan of the House of Anjou, sometime resident
in the East, familiar with the History of the House whose fortunes
he followed, and with much curious Oriental legend, and thoroughly
imbued with the broader views of life and religion inspired by the
Crusades. That he wrote his poem _after_ 1172 seems most likely from
the connection between England, Anjou, and Ireland noted in Book IX.;
on the other hand, the parallel existing between the early history
of Henry Fitz-Empress and that of the hero of the _Parzival_ seems
to show that he intended a compliment to that prince, which would
fix the year of Henry's death, 1189, as the _terminus ad quem_. The
probabilities are that it would be written earlier, before the troubles
of Henry's later years. What we know of the extent of the Angevin rule
and influence at that date renders it quite possible for us to believe
that the writer was by birth a Provençal. That the source of the poem
bore a strong affinity to the source of Chrêtien's _Conte del Graal_ is
certain, and the many Flemish allusions give colour to the supposition
that it may have been identical with that source.
If we grant the correctness of the Angevin allusions to be found in
the earlier parts of the poem, we must logically grant that these two
first Books, and as a consequence the latter part of the poem which
agrees with them, are due to the French source rather than the German
redaction; that it was Kiot who introduced the characters of Gamuret,
Belakané, Feirefis, and Lähelein; and that to Kiot is due the first
germ of the ethical interpretation amplified by Wolfram. It was
probably in a great measure owing to the unecclesiastical nature of
Kiot's teaching, and the freedom with which he handled the Grail myth,
that his work failed to attain the popularity of Chrêtien's. When the
Grail legend was once definitely stamped with the traditional-Christian
character which it finally assumed and retained, the semi-pagan
character of Kiot's treatment would cause his version to be regarded
with disfavour by the monkish compilers of his day. It is probably
owing to the accident of Maude's first husband having been Emperor of
Germany that this particular presentment of the story found its way
into that country; it may well be that it is, indirectly, to that very
Angevin element that has for so long perplexed critics that we owe
its preservation! As regards the Grail problem itself, it therefore
seems most probable that in Wolfram's _Parzival_ we have no really
independent version of the Grail myth, such as may be taken into
consideration by scholars when constructing a scientific theory of its
development; but simply an interesting specimen of one form which, in
the period of its translation from a pagan to a Christian symbol, it
temporarily assumed, that form being entirely coloured and determined
by the personality of the writer.
EXCURSUS D
THE WORKS OF WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH
Besides the _Parzival_, Wolfram's longest and, from every point of
view, most important work, we possess seven songs belonging to the
class known as Tage-or Wächter-Lieder; thus called because the secret
lovers, who have indulged their passion during the hours of night, are
warned by the call of the watchman from the ramparts of the approach of
day and of the hour of parting. Though Wolfram made in these songs a
concession to the lax morality of his day, the concluding lines of one
of them clearly show how far superior to such unlawful passion he held
the love of wedded wife and husband, such love as he has immortalised
in Kondwiramur and Parzival. Beside these songs, we have the poems
dealing with the loves of Siguné and Schionatulander, and classed
together under the name of _Titurel_. Whether these are complete in
themselves, and intended to serve as an explanatory addition to the
_Parzival_, or whether they are fragments of an unfinished poem, does
not very clearly appear; in any case they indicate a source identical
with that of the _Parzival_.
_Willehalm_, Wolfram's other great epic poem, in nine books, deals
with the history of William of Orange, a contemporary of Charlemagne,
whose story belongs to this cycle of French Romance. The poem is
clearly derived from the old French _Chanson de Geste, Aliscans_, and
is originally founded on the prolonged struggle between the Saracen
and Christian power in the South of France, a struggle which for
poetical purposes has been condensed into two battles of Aliscans, or
Alischanz, in the first of which the Christians are defeated, while in
the second they are victorious. Whether this poem, too, is or is not
unfinished, is a matter of debate among critics; judging from Wolfram's
method in the _Parzival_, the fact that he leaves the fate of his hero
'Rennewart' in uncertainty, and does not even reveal the secret of his
parentage and close connection with William's wife, seems to indicate
that he did not finish the poem. _Willehalm_ abounds in references to
the _Parzival_, and in similar turns of thought and expression, and has
some passages of great beauty. The _Titurel_ is also written in a more
elaborate metre than the other poems, and some doubt has been expressed
as to which of these two represents Wolfram's latest work. The style of
both is more finished than that of the _Parzival_, but they are both
inferior alike in depth of thought and human interest to this, the
greatest work of Germany's greatest mediæval poet.
NOTES
NOTES
BOOK X
Hero meets with wounded knight and Chrêtien, who gives all the
maiden. Is warned of the perils of incidents in corresponding
the way. sequence.
Meets with a lovely lady, whom he
woos and is repulsed by her with
mockery. Is insulted by a squire
of hideous aspect, and his charger
is stolen by the wounded knight.
Comes to a river on the further
side of which is a castle, and
fights with a knight who is riding
his own horse. Is entertained by
the boatman.
Introduction, lines 1-19. In Book X. the poet returns to Gawain,
taking up the story at the point at which he dropped it in Book VIII.
The corresponding book in Chrêtien commences very abruptly, making
no further mention of the challenge between Gawain and Kingrimursel
(Guigambresil) or of Gawain's search for the Grail (or Lance). It is
doubtful whether the passage beginning with line 15 really refers to
traditional adventures ascribed to Gawain, and omitted here, or whether
it is merely introduced in order to soften down the abrupt transition
from the story of Parzival to that of Gawain. From the fact that,
both here and in Chrêtien, this incident of Gawain's meeting with the
wounded knight follows immediately after Parzival's interview with the
hermit, it seems certain that a similar sequence existed in the source
common to both; on the other hand, in line 804, Wolfram seems to be
referring to a definite version of the Gawain episode, which certainly
differed from Chrêtien's. Here, as elsewhere, in the absence of any
_external_ evidence, it is not possible to speak with certainty.
Page 1, line 5--'_At Schamfanzon he challenged Gawain_.' Cf. Book VIII.
p. 239.
Page 1, line 9--'_The murder, Count Ekunât did it_.' Cf. Book VIII. p.
236 and Book III. p. 99.
Page 4, line 29--'_Kamilla_.' A reference to the _Æneid_ of Heinrich
von Veldeck, where Kamilla, the daughter of Turnus, is represented as
defending Laurentium against the Trojans, and being slain on the field
of battle. Cf. Book XII. p. 52.
Page 4, lines 39, 40--'_On her knee she bore a knight_.' This incident
occurs under exactly the same circumstances in Chrêtien, there, too,
Gawain comes to the rescue of the knight by arousing him from his
stupor, though the surgery, of which Wolfram gives so curious an
account, finds no parallel in the French poem. The reader will not
fail to notice the likeness between this incident and Parzival's
meeting with Siguné, in Book III. As will be pointed out later Wolfram
evidently intended a parallel, or a contrast, between his two heroes.
Page 5, line 63--'_Lischois Giwellius_.' This name, again, seems to be
a misunderstanding of a French original, in Chrêtien the knight is not
named, the passage; '_li Orguelleus de la roce à l'estroite voie, qui
garde les pors de Galvoie_' in which some critics have found the origin
of the name, seems rather to refer to the knight overthrown by Gawain
in Book XII. and named Florand by Wolfram. _Here_ there is a distinct
identity between the knight now referred to and him who fights with
Gawain later (p. 20); in Chrêtien the knight who opposes Gawain is the
nephew of the wounded man, and therefore can scarcely be the guardian
of the '_bogue de Galvoie_' who overthrows him. Later on Wolfram uses a
French expression to indicate where the knight in question was wounded,
_Av estroite mâvoié_, which distinctly indicates a _ford_ rather than
a _ravine_ as in Chrêtien (translated Perilous Ford, p. 13), and the
whole incident, carefully examined, decidedly points to a French
source, _other_ than Chrêtien.
Page 5, line 74--'_Spake o'er it spells of healing_.' As all students
of folk-lore are well aware, a belief in the virtue of certain formula
of words for the healing of bodily ailments was at one time practically
universal, and indeed, in certain districts, a belief in them exists
to this day. In vol. ii. of _Grundriss der Germanischen Philologie_
(part I.), a number of such spells, collected from old German MSS. are
given; among them will be found one for checking the flow of blood, and
another for the closing of a wound.
Page 5, line 77--'_Logrois_,' French Logres. In Malory we have Logris,
which has been identified with Loegria, or Saxon Britain.
Page 6, line 90--'_Orgelusé_.' This name, like Orilus, is a
misunderstanding of a French original. Chrêtien calls the lady
'L'Orguelleuse de Logres,' and it evidently stood so in Wolfram's
source. This incident of a knight proffering his services to, and
riding with, a lady who repays him with mockery, and finds food for
mirth in his misfortunes, seems to have been a favourite theme with
mediæval writers. Malory gives two such adventures, one of which, that
of La Cote Male Taile and the damsel Maledisant, is, curiously enough,
connected with the Castle _Orgulous_. The adventure as recounted by
Chrêtien closely parallels the German version, but the latter is told
at greater length, and the lady appears to decidedly more advantage;
her mockery, though biting, is more in the vein of a courtly lady, and,
what we should not expect to find, there is far more lightness of touch
and 'malice,' in the French sense of the word, about the German than
about the French poet. The little touch on p. 9, lines 192, 193 (If
a woman ye thus behold), is lacking in Chrêtien, and is decidedly in
keeping with the dry humour of Wolfram, who, in spite of his respect
for women, delights in a sly hit at feminine weaknesses. The very
curious adjuration of the old knight, on the same page, 'May He who
made salt the sea,' seems, according to Bartsch, to be frequent in old
French literature, '_Qui fit la mer salée_,' but does not occur at all
in Chrêtien, who here simply has 'Dieu le Souverain Pêre.'
Page 10, line 235--'_Malcréature_.' This squire appears in Chrêtien,
but is not connected in any way with Kondrie, though it may be noted
that the description given of him in the French poem agrees far more
closely with Wolfram's description of the Grail Messenger than the
latter does with Chrêtien's _Maiden_. Bartsch says that the curious
account of this strange people 'rests on Talmudic tradition, and is
repeated in many mediæval writings, Latin, German, and Romance.' In
Wolfram's poem of _Willehalm_ he introduces a strange 'horned' people
who come from the banks of the Ganges, and who speak with no human
tongue. Chrêtien has nothing corresponding to this wild story, nor is
his squire named.
Page 12, line 274--'_Anfortas_.' This is the first indication that
the lady in whose service Anfortas received his incurable wound was
Orgelusé. Cf. Book IX. p. 275. The story is more fully told in Book
XII. p. 65.
Page 12, line 281--'_I wot well e'en Dame Jeschuté, etc_.' Cf. Book V.
p. 145.
Page 13, line 311--'_A spital shall stand near by_.' Chrêtien's knight
wishes to be taken to a _Hermit_ that he may confess and receive the
sacrament. The incident is a good illustration of the different tone
of the two poems: Chrêtien's is deeply imbued with the ecclesiasticism
of his day, and abounds in references to hours of prayer, religious
services, and invocation of saints, all of which are lacking in
Wolfram's version, which, nevertheless, is far more thoroughly pervaded
with the religious _spirit_.
Page 14, line 349--'_Is it thou, O Urian?_' In Chrêtien the name of the
knight is Griogoras. Urian appears to be the same name as Friam, which
we meet with later on, Book XIII. p. 92. The main outline of his story
is the same in the French as in the German poet, but there are some
significant points of divergence. In Chrêtien we have no mention of the
trial before the king, nor of the death-sentence; Gawain appears to
have punished the knight on his own account, and his anger is therefore
more intelligible, especially as Chrêtien gives an additional touch
of ignominy to his punishment, '_les_ Il _mains liiès au dos_'; and
we hear nothing of the special right of message-bearer, by outraging
which Urian broke 'the peace of the land.' The _incident_ itself is a
common one with mediæval writers, but it is generally treated lightly,
and the punishment, as a rule, was a money fine. It seems as if the
more serious manner in which the episode is treated by Wolfram were
to be accounted for by the maiden's official position. Throughout the
poem there are frequent allusions to the manners, customs, and modes
of government of his day, and, where Chrêtien seems to give us simply
a world of romance, Wolfram seems to aim at investing his story with
reality by surrounding it with the atmosphere of the time in which he
lived.
The indignation expressed by Orgelusé (line 417) is peculiar to
Wolfram's version, and seems somewhat out of keeping with the general
laxity of her conduct.
Page 18, line 465--'_Amor and Cupid_.' Amor and Cupid were regarded
by the poets of the Middle Ages as two separate gods, both being the
children of Venus.
The fine passage, lines 480-496, is an eloquent exposition of Wolfram's
belief in the superiority of lawful love over the mere earthly passion,
too often unlawful, sanctioned, if not encouraged, by the prevailing
licence accorded to _Minne-Dienst_. Throughout this poem Wolfram
is a steadfast upholder of the binding nature of the marriage vow;
Parzival's fidelity to his wife is held to be a virtue sufficient to
cancel any other sin of which he may be guilty; cf. Book IX. p. 270,
where Trevrezent's words are a sufficient commentary on the rarity
of such fidelity in those days. At the same time Wolfram accepts the
prevailing ideal, and it must be noted that it was he, and not a poet
of laxer principles, such as Gottfried von Strasbourg, who first
brought into vogue the _Wächter-lieder_, the very essence of which is
that the love to which they give eloquent voice is an unlawful love,
and must be indulged in secrecy and under the cover of night.
Page 19, line 506 and _seq._--'_A Castle so fair and stately_.' This is
Château Merveil, mentioned by Kondrie, Book VI. p. 181.
Page 22, line 598--'_Gringuljet_.' Chrêtien explains how Lischois
Giwellius comes to be in possession of Gawain's horse; he is, according
to the French poet, the nephew of the wounded knight Griogoras, who has
sent him to attack Gawain, and has given him the horse stolen from that
hero for the purpose. For the meaning of the name, cf. vol i. Appendix
B. The previous history of the steed has been alluded to twice, Books
VII. p. 196 and IX. p. 272. In the latter passage Trevrezent recognises
Parzival's horse, also a Grail steed, by the dove on its saddle, here
the badge is branded on the horse itself. The fight between Lischois
and Gawain is told at much greater length here.
Page 24, line 661--'_This right was his o'er the meadow_.' The tribute
due to the Ferryman is also related in Chrêtien, where Gawain evades it
in the same manner.
Page 26, line 729--'_Klingsor_.' The magician, lord of the Château
Merveil, has not been named before; he is identical with the 'clerk
who all magic knew,' cf. Book II. p. 39. Chrêtien has not this
character at all; the castle, according to him, was built by 'I. _sages
clers d'astrenomie_,' who came there with King Arthur's mother, but
there is no indication that the lady eloped with him, nor does he play
any part in the story. The origin of the name seems to be uncertain;
in the poem of the _Wartburg-krieg_, already alluded to (note to Book
VI.), Klingsor appears as a magician from Hungary, and Simrock thinks
that here his name is derived from Klingsære, a singer or minstrel, and
that Wolfram was weaving into his poem an old legend illustrative of
the power of song. San Marte derives the name from an old French word
_clincher_, and thinks it indicative of the sensual character ascribed
to the magician, and that the character is of French origin. Merlin is,
of course, the Arthurian magician, and appears as such in Chrêtien's
continuators, but there is no sign of him in the _Parzival_, nor can
the incidents related of Klingsor be paralleled in the history of
Merlin.
Page 27, line 774--'_Bené_.' The part assigned to this character
in Wolfram is important, the maiden does not appear in Chrêtien's
version, _here_ she plays an active part as confidant of Itonjé,
Gawain's sister, in her love affair with King Gramoflanz and acts as
messenger between the lovers. Some critics have derived her name from a
misunderstanding of Chrêtien's phrase, _que bencois soit votre ostu_,
spoken by Gawain to the boatman, and, of course, such a phrase _may_
have stood in Wolfram's French source, but, as he certainly did not
borrow the character from Chrêtien, it seems scarcely likely that he
borrowed the name.
Page 28, lines 785-790--'_Purslain and lettuce_.' The dish was
apparently a kind of salad. Wolfram makes an ingenious use of the
mention of vinegar to impress upon his readers the folly of speaking
untruly, and incidentally shows that the use of rouge was not unknown
in his day.
[Gawain's adventures with the Proud Lady (Orgelusé) and at the Castle
of Wonders form, perhaps, the most confused and perplexing portion of
the poem, while they also bear obvious marks of age and of freedom from
the Christian symbolism which has so profoundly affected the 'Grail'
legend as a whole. 'The Proud Lady' seems to be a composite creation;
the characteristics of a courtly lady of the day having been grafted
on to an originally supernatural conception. According to this latter,
she was a water-fairy (note that Gawain meets her by the side of a
spring, Book X. p. 6), mistress of a magic garden, in which are held
captive the mortals whom she incites to a perilous venture, _i.e._ the
crossing of the stream which separates this from the other world, and
the bringing thence a branch plucked from a tree growing there. This
adventure is of course only to be achieved by the best knight in the
world, the hero, namely, of the episode, and to urge him to it she uses
every species of raillery. When the hero has performed the task she
gladly yields herself his. This incident, in itself a straightforward
and intelligible one to which many parallels might easily be adduced
from romantic and heroic literature, is, however, crossed and blended
with another adventure of the same hero, the achieving the feats of the
Wonder Castle, and thereby overcoming its magician builder.
The two episodes, originally told each for itself, coalesced owing
to the personages in each being the same; for the Proud Lady is, I
believe, far more intimately connected with the Wonder Castle than
appears from Wolfram's poem; I suspect her, indeed, of being the
magician's daughter. That the wedding of Gawain with Orgelusé should
take place in the Château Merveil is at present almost the only trace
remaining of the original connection, but that is decisive. For, as
will be pointed out in Note to Book XI., the episode of the Wonder
Castle must originally have ended in the hero's remaining there; he
has won to the other world whence he cannot return, but over which he
rules, in company with its fair mistress. As it is, the reader cannot
but feel that the winning of the Branch is an anti-climax after the
achievement of the Castle of Wonders.
The true significance of the Proud Lady's garden has also been obscured
in our poem; it may possibly at one time have been confused with the
Wonder Castle, and might then be compared with the Garden of Joy
which Merlin created for Ninian; there is indeed a strong temptation
to compare Merlin and Ninian with Klingsor and Orgelusé, wide as the
difference is between the two stories. But it is more probable that
the Magic Garden belongs wholly to the Winning of the Branch feat,
and that, like the remainder of this episode, it has suffered from
contamination with the Wonder Castle story. (In connection with this
it may be noted that in Chrêtien, Gawain, after crossing the Perilous
Ford, is not to pluck the branch of any one special tree, but to gather
the flowers which he sees, '_A ces arbres et á ces prés._' The idea of
a _garden_ seems to have been better preserved in the French than in
the German poem.)
Another portion of the original story, the flyting of hero and heroine,
has been completely remodelled by the twelfth century poets, in order
to afford an exemplification of the current ideal of courtly love
and lady-service; hence the complex character of the heroine, and
the confused nature of the episode as related by Wolfram. It would
be useless to seek in pre-twelfth century literature for an _exact_
parallel to a situation so manifestly coloured to suit the prevailing
social ideas of the time; but the episode must have some root in
preceding literature, the special form of the social relation of man
to woman which is the most marked feature of twelfth century literary
art must stand in _some_ relation to the past; and it is in the Irish
heroic literature of the seventh to the eleventh centuries that we must
seek for the origin of this feature.
In this literature we find a remarkable parallel to the whole
Gawain-Orgelusé episode. 'The Wooing of Emer' by Cuchulainn is one
of the most famous stories about the greatest Irish hero. Emer was
the daughter of Forgall the Wily, the chief maiden of Ireland in all
virtues and qualities, and therefore the only one whom Cuchulainn
deemed worthy of him. But she is by no means minded to take him at his
own estimation; when he recounts his achievements, 'these are goodly
fights of a tender boy,' says she, nor will she consent to see him
until he perform certain definite feats. Moreover, her father is by no
means anxious that she should marry, and to get rid of the wooer has
him sent off with two companions on a perilous expedition to Skye. The
first danger he encountered (I quote textually from the oldest version
of the story, ascribed by the editor, Professor Kuno Meyer, to the
eighth century) is 'some dreadful beast like a lion, which fought with
him, but did him no harm, and the foul play of the youths who laughed
at him' (_Revue Celtique_, vol. X. 44). Afterwards he has to make
his way across the 'plain of ill-luck' on which men freeze, and by a
narrow path over a glen, and a 'terrible stony height.' Cuchulainn of
course comes safely through all these and other ventures, and carries
off Emer, whom he weds. Here, then, we have the contemptuous attitude
of the wooed maiden, her indication of feats to be performed before
she can be won; and before the final marriage a series of incidents
bearing no small resemblance to those which befall Gawain at the Wonder
Castle.--ALFRED NUTT.]
BOOK XI
TRADITIONAL EVENTS
Gawain, against the advice of the Chrêtien gives the incidents in
Boatman, visits Château Merveil, the same order, but with some
seats himself on the magic couch, difference in details,
and is assailed, first by unseen
adversaries, then by a lion which
he kills and ends the enchantments
of the Castle.
(There is a Castle of Wonders in 'Peredur,' but the adventures
connected with it are quite different.)
The entire episode of the Magic Castle and Gawain's adventures therein
is stamped with a weird, fantastic character, unlike the rest of the
poem, and gives the effect of a Mährchen introduced into the midst of
a knightly epic. More than one critic has pointed out the similarity
between the tasks to be achieved by Gawain, before he becomes lord
of the castle, and those which, in old folk-tales, fall to the lot
of those who dare a venture to the shadowy under-world. Some of the
features in the story, which will be noted as they occur, seem to
distinctly indicate that such was the original nature of this episode,
related with so much spirit by the German poet.
Page 34, line 107--'_He who at Nantes slew Prince Ither_.' Cf. Books
VII. p. 218 and VIII. p. 242, and notes on these passages, where
Wolfram's introduction of the chief hero of the poem, unmentioned
in Chrêtien's version, is commented upon. Some critics have drawn a
contrast between the Château Merveil, with its magic lord, and the
Grail Castle, with its wounded king, which are won respectively by
the two heroes of the poem, and have seen in the castle of Klingsor
the embodiment of the fleshly principle, opposed to the spiritual
realm of the Grail. But Wolfram seems to have intended a _parallel_
rather than a _contrast_. Klingsor, on the whole, is by no means a
malicious character, and of the deadly antagonism between him and
the Grail knights, which is the very essence of Wagner's _Parzival_,
there is here no trace. If there is a contrast between spirit and
sense in Wolfram's poem, it is rather to be found between the court
and knighthood of Monsalväsch and that of King Arthur, and the latter
monarch certainly embodies the world-principle far more than Klingsor
does. Parzival's failure to ask the question here is quite in keeping
with his general character and devotion to a single aim, but the
introduction of the incident was doubtless intended to heighten the
parallel between Monsalväsch and Château Merveil.
Page 35, line 125--'_Now arm thee for deadly warfare!_' In Chrêtien's
account the Boatman plays the same kindly part of adviser, and,
further, accompanies Gawain to the palace and to the hall of the
Lit-Merveil, but, as before noted, the part played by the daughter is
omitted.
Page 36, line 162--'_A merchant with merchandise costly_.' In Chrêtien
this character is an 'Eskiékier,' rather a money-changer than a
merchant. The story of the oath, and how it came to be in the courtyard
of the castle, is rally related in Book XII. p. 65.
Page 36, line 169--'_The Baruch of Bagdad_.' Cf. Book I. p. 9, and note
on 'Rankulat.' The allusion to the Emperor of Greece shows that this
was written after the taking of Constantinople by the Crusaders in 1204.
Page 37, line 185--'_Plippalinòt_.' The Boatman is unnamed in Chrêtien.
The critics give no interpretation of the name.
Page 37, line 201--'_The Lechfeld_.' The Lechfeld is a wide plain
near Augsburg between the rivers Werch and Lech, where the Hungarians
were defeated in 955 by the Emperor Otho. Naturally, the courtyard of
a castle could not be so large, and it seems probable that Wolfram
was commenting humorously on the exaggerated description given in his
source. Chrêtien gives much the same account of the castle and its
gorgeous decorations.
Page 38, line 220--'_The Lit-Merveil_.' Chrêtien gives a more detailed
description of the magic couch: it is of gold, with cords of silver,
and bells hanging from the interlaced cords. It is apparently the
peal of these bells, as the knight seats himself upon the couch, that
gives warning of the intruder, and is the signal for the enchantments
to begin. In Chrêtien's account the attack by the five hundred unseen
foes (Gawain has already been informed by the Boatman that five hundred
knights guard the castle) follows immediately on the hero taking
his seat on the couch, and the onslaught of the lion immediately on
the cross-bows, so that the ordeal, as represented by Wolfram, is
considerably more severe and prolonged than in the French version.
Page 40, line 299--'_A mighty lion_.' The encounter with the lion is
the same in Chrêtien; there, too, the lion's paw is smitten off by
Gawain, and remains hanging to the shield. The remark in line 312 is
quite in keeping with Wolfram's dry, quaint humour; such 'asides' are
lacking throughout in the French poem.
Page 41, line 331--'_Mount Ribbelé_.' An allusion to Eilhart's
_Tristan_, where Gymele, Isolde's maid, gives to Kahenis, who should
keep watch with her, a magic pillow on which he slumbers throughout the
night, and is mocked in consequence.
Page 42, line 340--'_Arnivé_.' This is Arthur's mother, whose elopement
with Klingsor has been mentioned, cf. Book II. p. 39. (Whether Arnivé
went with Klingsor of her own free will, or whether she was constrained
by magic art, does not clearly appear; from Book II. we should conclude
the former, but the passage in Book XIII. pp. 89 and 90, reads as if
she were not a free agent.) She has been named as one of the dwellers
in Château Merveil, (Book VI. p. 189); how it was that Arthur, who had
apparently spent some years in the search for his mother (cf. Book II.
p. 39), failed to recognise her name when mentioned before him, is
not explained. But the whole episode, as noted above, is so wild and
fantastic, and so full of difficulties, that it seems most probable
that it was not originally connected with the Arthurian legend, and has
been only imperfectly fitted into the framework. In Chrêtien, too, the
queen is Arthur's mother, but she is much less prominent in the story,
indeed from this point onwards the two versions diverge considerably.
In Chrêtien, Gawain is by no means seriously wounded; the Boatman, who
seems to have awaited the issue of the adventure outside the castle,
returns promptly and tells him that the enchantments are at an end,
and Gawain is greeted by a train of pages, gaily dressed and playing
flutes; and maidens, one of whom bears royal robes. Chrêtien then
introduces a very curious and archaic feature, to which Wolfram has no
parallel; Gawain expresses his desire to leave the castle and hunt in
the surrounding forest, but the Boatman tells him this is impossible;
it is judged and decreed that whoever achieves the venture of the
Château Merveil shall never leave the castle, '_Que jamais de cette
maison n'istroit u fust tors u raison. Jamais n'istrés nul jor_,' at
which Gawain is extremely angry. Nevertheless, he does leave the castle
and no harm comes of it. The only explanation of this curious feature
seems to be that this episode, as noted above, found its origin in the
story of some hero's visit to the under-world, when his return to the
world of the living depends on his fulfilment of certain conditions,
_e.g._, that he should eat nothing during his stay in the land of
shadows; Gawain certainly partakes of a meal in the Magic Castle, which
meal in Wolfram precedes, though in Chrêtien it follows, his attempt to
leave Château Merveil. Heinzel understands Chrêtien's account of the
arrival of the two elder queens in Terre de Merveil as meaning that
they really were dead, and supernaturally revived; (Chrêtien certainly
does say of the elder queen, '_Qui fus mis en tière_,' but as he goes
on to state that she brought all her riches with her into the country
where she came, accompanied by her daughter, it is rather difficult to
understand what he really does mean.) Mr. Nutt remarks, 'I think there
can be no doubt that Klingsor's castle is a form of the other world,
and that its inhabitants cease to live if they return to this world.
There is a distinct parallelism in the original form of the legend
between Parzival's winning the Grail Castle and Gawain's winning the
Magic Castle. On this theory neither, of course, should come back to
Arthur's court; the necessity of bringing them both into contact with
Arthur again has obscured the significance of the story.'
Page 43, line 370--'_Ilinot the Breton_.' Arthur's son, alluded to in
Book VII. p. 217, and note (which also explains the allusion to 'the
mystic beasts' which seem to have been the badge of the royal Breton
house). Ilinot's history is told at some length in Book XII. p. 50.
Page 44, line 422--'_Dictam, the herb of healing_.' San Marte says that
this herb is mentioned by Cicero, Virgil, and Pliny, as possessing the
power of drawing arrow-shafts from a wound. Wolfram, also, attributed
this virtue to it, as he distinctly states in _Willehalm_, where he
gives an account of his hero's wounds being dressed by his wife.
The allusion to Kondrie should be noted; it is another instance of the
skill with which Wolfram connects all the threads of his story, and
never loses sight of his main point.
BOOK XII
TRADITIONAL EVENTS
Gawain overthrows a knight whom Chrêtien.
the Lady of Logrois brings to
fight with him; crosses the
Perilous Ford, and is challenged
to single combat by a knight. Is
rewarded by the love of Orgelusé,
and returns in triumph to Château
Merveil.
Page 49, lines 5-18--'_Launcelot on the sword-bridge battled_.' This
passage to line 18 contains numerous allusions to the knightly tales of
the day, some of which have been previously referred to. Launcelot's
fight with Meljakanz and subsequent freeing of Queen Guinevere is
mentioned in Book VII. (pp. 205, 219 and Note).
The story of Garel and the lion is not known to us; he was the hero of
a later poem by Pleier, but this adventure does not appear in it. Garel
and Gaherjet we find again in Book XIII. p. 96, according to Chrêtien
they were Gawain's brothers, but Wolfram seems to regard them merely as
kinsmen. (The fact that Wolfram knows only _one_ brother, Beau-corps,
whereas Chrêtien mentions two, if not three, seems to indicate that he
was here following a different source.) '_The Perilous Ford_' we shall
meet with presently; and Erec and the venture of Schoie-de-la-kurt have
been alluded to in Book III. pp. 76 and 100, and Note; and Book VIII.
p. 245.
The allusion to Iwein is taken from Hartmann's poem of that name,
which relates that in the wood Briziljan (Broceliande) there was a
spring beside which hung a golden basin; if any one drew water from the
spring in this basin, and poured it upon a stone near by, a violent
storm immediately arose which devastated the wood, and slew the game
therein. As soon as the tempest was over the lord of the spring
appeared in full armour and demanded satisfaction for the mischief
done. Iwein withstands this venture, slays the knight, and eventually,
by Lunete's counsel, marries his widow. Cf. Book V. p. 143, and Book
IX. p. 252.
Page 50, lines 39-64--'_They yielded thee loyal service_,' _etc._
Mazadan, cf. Book I. p. 31 and Book VIII. 230 and Note. Ither of
Gaheviess needs no further notice. Ilinot has already been alluded to,
Book VII. p. 217 and Book XI. p. 43. This is the first full account
given of this prince, hitherto his fate has only been alluded to; we
know nothing of this character, but it is quite evident from such
passages as these, and Book VI. p. 171, that Wolfram was familiar
with Arthurian romances other than those which have come down to us.
Ilinot, being Arthur's son, was of course first cousin to Gawain; the
relationship with Parzival is much more distant, and, though Arthur
speaks of Parzival as his 'nephew,' the term must be taken in a much
wider sense than we should now understand it; from Wolfram's own
account Parzival cannot have been more than very distantly connected
with the House of Pendragon.
Galoes and Gamuret, cf. Book II. pp. 46, 52, and 59.
The loves of Itonjé and Gramoflanz occupy a considerable part of the
next two books. Surdamur was Gawain's sister, and married the Emperor
of Greece, Alexander; their son was Cligés, the hero of Chrêtien's
poem of that name, in the early part of which the tale of their love
is fully told. (Cf. Note to Book VI. '_Sir Klias_.') None of these
allusions are to be found in Chrêtien, whose books, as a rule, lack
introductory passages; but, as noted in Book XI., from the conclusion
of the Lit-Merveil incident onwards the two poems diverge widely in
detail, though the outline of the story is identical.
Page 52, line 89--'_Arras_.' A town in Picardy, famous in the Middle
Ages for its stuffs.
Page 52, line 97--'_A shining pillar_.' This magic pillar, of which
a full account is given further on (lines 109 and 143), is peculiar
to Wolfram's version. In Chrêtien we have simply a watch-tower, from
the windows of which Gawain can see the country. Later on we find the
deadly fight between Parzival and Feirefis mirrored on this pillar, and
the news of the encounter conveyed to Arthur's court before the arrival
of the heroes.
Page 52, line 98--'_The coffin of Kamilla_.' Cf. Book X. p. 4 and Note.
Heinrich von Veldeck gives a minute account of this coffin.
Page 52, line 101--'_Master Geometras_.' It is curious to find geometry
thus personified. The same mistake has apparently been made by Heinrich
von Veldeck, who makes Geometras the designer of Kamilla's coffin.
Page 53, line 119--'_Came the agèd queen Arnivé_.' According to
Chrêtien there are two queens, mother and daughter, and a maiden,
daughter to the younger queen, who is named Clarissant. Gawain's
mother he does not name at all, the old queen has her original name of
Yguerne. In Chrêtien the elder lady asks Gawain at once if he is one
of King Arthur's knights, and questions him closely as to King Arthur,
King Lot, and the sons of the latter; but apparently Gawain's curiosity
is in no way aroused, and he makes no attempt to learn who the ladies
are, though he makes a compact with the old queen that she shall not
ask _his_ name for seven days. The account, so humorously given by
Wolfram of Arnivé's curiosity and unavailing attempts to discover
Gawain's identity, is lacking in the French poet. It is difficult to
understand how it is that _Gawain_ has no suspicion of the real facts
of the case till enlightened by Gramoflanz, but, as remarked above, the
whole episode is mysterious and perplexing.
Page 54, line 174--'_The Turkowit_.' This seems to be the name for a
lightly-armed soldier, an archer. This particular knight, we learn
later, was captain of Orgelusé's night-watch, or body-guard; his name
was Florand of Itolac; and he subsequently marries Sangivé, Gawain's
mother.
Page 58, line 282--'_Tamris and Prisein_.' Tamris-Tamarisk, has been
mentioned in Book VIII. (p. 242 and Note). Prisein has not been
identified, Bartsch suggests Provençal _Bresil_.
Page 58, 294--'_The Perilous Ford_.' Wolfram's expression here is
'_Ligweiz prelljus_,' evidently the French '_Li guex perelleus_.'
Chrêtien's description of the episode is much the same, but he
represents Gawain as being well acquainted with the character of this
venture, and of the fame that will accrue to the knight who achieves
it. In the French poem there does not appear to be one tree in especial
guarded by Guiromelans, but Gawain is bidden '_Quellir de ces flours
que veés. A ces arbres et a ces prés._'
Page 60, line 332--'_King Gramoflanz_.' This character has been
already referred to in Book IX. p. 258. In Chrêtien he is called Le
Guiromelans, and Wolfram's name for him is undoubtedly derived from
some such original (cf. Appendix B, vol. i.). The account of his
meeting with Gawain differs in many respects in the French version;
there his quarrel with Gawain seems to be much more of a personal
matter, not only has King Lot slain his father, as here, but Gawain
himself has slain seven of his kinsmen. Chrêtien's description of the
king's dress and appearance is far less gorgeous than is Wolfram's.
Page 60, line 340--'_Sinzester_.' Bartsch suggests that _Winchester_ is
here meant. In Book VI. we find Kondrie wearing a hat with plumes of
'the English peacock.'
Page 60, line 353--'_Eidegast_.' Cf. Book II. p. 39 and Note on '_The
Tourney_.' In Chrêtien Orgelusé's lover is not named but he has been
slain by Guiromelans, and, as here, it is her desire for vengeance
that has led her to urge Gawain to the venture; but in the French
poem Orgelusé is a much less imposing personage, and her attempts at
vengeance are of a less organised character.
Page 61, line 374--'_Yet alas! I have ne'er beheld her_.' Such
instances of a knight vowing himself to the service of a lady whom
he had never seen were by no means rare in mediæval times. (Cf. the
well-known story of Rudel and the Lady of Tripoli.) In Chrêtien,
also, Guiromelans is the lover of Gawain's sister, whose name there
is Clarissant. In the French poem Guiromelans gives a full history of
all the queens, here he only states the identity of Itonjé, and Gawain
apparently takes the rest for granted.
Page 62, line 419--'_Löver_.' This name has been mentioned in Book IV.
p. 121. The derivation is uncertain, but in each instance Arthur's
kingdom, as a whole, seems to be meant. The curious name 'Bems by the
Korka' has exercised critics much; Chrêtien has '_A Pentecouste est
la cors le roi Artu en Orcanie_,' and _Korka_ is evidently a form of
Orcanie. Some have suggested that 'Bems bei' is a misunderstanding of
Pentecouste (couste = _côte_), but the derivation seems far-fetched and
unsatisfactory; all that can be said with certainty is that the name
points to a French source.
Page 62, line 425--'_Rosche Sabbin_.' This also seems to be derived
from the French; Chrêtien calls the castle 'Roche de Sanguin,' and
Wolfram seems to have transferred the name to Gramoflanz' kingdom.
Page 64, line 471--'_True as the one-horned marvel_.' Cf. Book IX. p.
277, where the story of the Unicorn's love for a pure maiden is given.
We learn from this passage that advantage was taken of its slumber to
slay it.
Page 65, line 511--'_For the winning his death_.' Here we have a full
explanation of the connection between Orgelusé and Anfortas. The
tent given to the Lady of Logrois by Anfortas was, we learn from the
_Willehalm_ (which abounds in allusions to the _Parzival_), sent to
that monarch by Queen Sekundillé as a love-token.
Page 66, line 547--'_And never a man beheld me_.' This account of
Orgelusé's bargain with the knights who fought for her, and her
relations with Parzival and Gawain, throws a most curious light on the
conventionalities of the day. It is quite evident that Orgelusé in no
way transgressed against the code of manners then prevailing, she is
throughout treated as a great lady, and is well received at Court.
Though this is the only episode of the kind recounted, it is quite
clear from Books XIV. pp. 130-131 and XVI. 173 that Orgelusé was
not the only lady who had proffered her love to Parzival and been
refused. (Those familiar with Wagner's _Parzival_ will not need to
have it pointed out to them what fine dramatic use he has made of the
fact that it is Anfortas' love, and the indirect cause of his wound,
who thus offers herself to Parzival. With wonderful skill Wagner has
combined the characters of Kondrie and Orgelusé, thereby, in some ways,
assimilating Kondrie more closely to the original form of the legend.)
Page 69, line 625--'_The Swallow_.' Bartsch says that this was an
English harp, so called from the fact that the lower part of the frame
was shaped like the fork of a swallow's tail.
Page 69, line 639--'_The Buhurd_.' Cf. Book II. Note on '_The
Tourney_.' There is no trace of this formal knightly reception in
Chrêtien,--there the old queen receives them seated outside the castle,
and the maidens dance and sing around them.
BOOK XIII
TRADITIONAL EVENTS
Feast at the Château Merveil; Chrêtien, whose poem ends abruptly
Gawain persuades his sister to in the middle of a line.
confide her love-story to him.
Arrival of Gawain's messenger at
the Court of King Arthur.
(From this point onwards there is no resemblance between Wolfram's poem
and any other known Romance of the Grail-cycle.)
Page 74, line 39--'_One lived of yore named Sarant_.' Cf. note to Book
I. '_Silk of Orient_.' Bartsch identifies the name of the skilful
weaver with that of an Asiatic people, probably the Chinese. Thasmé
is named later on as part of Feirefis' kingdom. His battle-cry is
'Tabronit and Thasmé!' '_Akraton_,' cf. Book VIII. p. 230.
Page 75, line 66--'_Itonjé_.' This is the French name 'Idonie.' In
Chrêtien the maiden is named Clarissant, and Gawain wins her confidence
in the same manner. Chrêtien's share of the _Conte_ ends so abruptly
that we cannot tell how he intended to treat her love-story; here, it
plays a considerable part in the development of the poem.
Page 77, line 147--'_Now the hour it was come_.' The account of the
feast here given is very interesting from the light it throws on
mediæval manners and customs. In those days it was very usual for
two to eat from one plate, in fact, this was one of the rules of the
Knights Templars; the reason assigned being that one brother might
care for the other, and all share alike (cf. Feast at Monsalväsch,
Book V. p. 136). On great occasions the principal guests seem to have
had ladies assigned to them as their table companions (cf. Book VI. p.
178). One would gather from this passage, and that in Book VI., that
the lady of highest rank had the hostess for companion, thus we find
Arnivé eating with Orgelusé, and Guinevere having a queen (probably
Ekuba) for companion; while Kunnewaare is Arthur's table-mate, as here
Itonjé is Gawain's.
Page 78, line 180--'_Ne'er was it night in her presence_.' Cf. Book II.
p. 48.
Page 79, line 194--'_Thuringia_.' San Marte remarks on this passage
that at this period music and song invariably went together, the one
was necessary to the complete understanding of the other; separately,
they were unintelligible. In many instances the lyrical poems of the
day were wedded to dance music, the flowing graceful rhythm of which
made it an appropriate vehicle for the illustration of poetry. The
Thuringian Court being the centre of the literary life of the time many
of these dances would naturally originate there; though it must not be
supposed that dances _without_ the accompaniment of song were not also
known.
Page 81, line 262--'_Kancor, and Thèbit, and Trebuchet_.' San Marte
says that Thèbit is Thabet Ben Korka, a famous Arabic physician,
mathematician, and philosopher of the ninth century. Kancor is probably
Kenkeh, an astronomer and physician of the same period. Trebuchet has
been mentioned before. Cf. Book V. p. 144 and Note.
Page 81, 279--'_'Twas yet in the early morning_.' Chrêtien gives no
account of the delivery of the squire's message, but simply states
that he finds Arthur and his knights plunged in grief at the prolonged
absence of Gawain, and then breaks off abruptly in the middle of a
sentence before they have learnt of his safety. From this point onward
Wolfram's version is entirely independent of the _Conte del Graal_,
but his poem shows no dislocation or contradiction, such as one would
expect would have been the case had he been following a source that
suddenly failed him; on the contrary, there is a far more complete
harmony between all the parts of Wolfram's poem than we find in any
other Romance of the cycle.
Page 82, lines 301-10--'_Meljanz de Lys_.' Cf. Book VIII. p. 239,
and Introduction to Book X. and Note. If there was no account of
Gawain's intermediate adventures Wolfram is evidently anxious to make
his hearers believe in the existence of such a record, by means of
well-timed and appropriate allusions. The fact that the combat was to
be in the presence of Meljanz de Lys is only casually mentioned in Book
VIII. For the allusions to Kunnewaare, Jeschuté, and Ekuba cf. closing
pages of Book VI. with the account of the dispersal of the company at
Plimizöl. The whole passage is a proof of the care with which the poem
has been constructed, and the details brought into harmony with each
other.
Page 83, line 339--'_Brought he news of some gallant venture?_' Cf.
Book VI. p. 176 and Note.
Page 87-88, lines 466-506--'_His doings, Sir Knight, I to thee will
tell_.' This history of the magician Klingsor, as noted in Book X.,
is found in Wolfram only, and the indications seem to point to a
_French_ source. Terre de Labûr is undoubtedly a French rendering
of Terra di Lavoro, in Calabria. Kalot Enbolot is Kalota-Belota, a
fortress on the south-eastern coast of Sicily, well known in the
days of the Hohenstauffen. This location of Klingsor's kingdom in
Southern Italy may have been introduced in order to lend a colour to
his supposed relationship to Virgil, who by the twelfth century was
firmly established in popular belief as a magician. The name Iblis,
Bartsch refers to the Sicilian town Hybla; Ibert may be a form of the
French Guibert. It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that in the
lord of the Château Merveil, wounded as a punishment of unlawful love,
we have a parallel to the King of Monsalväsch, whose wound is due to a
similar cause. (A reference to the original German will show how close
this resemblance is); as mentioned before, it seems to be a parallel,
rather than a contrast, which Wolfram intended to draw between his
two heroes. It may well be that in the original version of the story
from which both Chrêtien's and Wolfram's poems are derived the Gawain
episodes were unfinished, and that in their original form Gawain, too,
was brought to the Grail Castle, but to regard them as unfinished
_here_ seems a clear misunderstanding of the meaning of the poem. We
are distinctly given to understand (p. 97, line 780) that Gawain's lot
in life is finally settled, the Grail Quest, which was originally in
the Gawain story, has been quietly dropped, and this adventure of the
Château Merveil has taken its place; an alteration which artistically
can only be considered an improvement, as it clearly marks Gawain's
position as secondary to Parzival. Whether the story of Klingsor
was introduced for the purpose of emphasizing the parallel between
Monsalväsch and Château Merveil it is difficult to say. Certainly, the
incident of Parzival's missing the adventure of the Magic Castle, as
he did that of Monsalväsch, by failing to ask the question must, as
noted above, be due to this idea. With the end of this book Gawain's
adventures are practically concluded; Wolfram promptly clears the
stage for the winding-up of the history of his real hero, Parzival,
by bringing the two knights into contact, when Gawain is naturally
worsted, and takes the second place. Whether it be due to Wolfram or
to his source, it is certain that the _Parzival_ is far simpler in
construction than the majority of the Grail Romances, in which the
adventures of various heroes succeed each other with such bewildering
rapidity and similarity of incident that it is difficult to tell who is
the real hero of the tale!
Page 89, line 519--'_A child was born of a mother_.' A well-known
mediæval riddle, which Wolfram might easily have derived from a German
source.
Page 90, line 531--'_Of joy had I once full measure_.' It is somewhat
curious that in Chrêtien Gawain eulogizes _Guinevere_ in similar terms.
It rather looks as if the original passage had been the same in both
instances, though it would be difficult to tell to which queen it
originally referred.
Page 91, line 566--'_Maurin_.' This name occurs in the _Lancelot_ of
Ulrich von Zatzikhoven, from which it was probably borrowed.
Page 92, line 601 _and seq._--'_And either side had suffered_.' Garel
and Gaherjet: cf. Note to Book XII. Iofreit, son of Idol: cf. Book V.
p. 155 and Note. Though this character only plays an unimportant part
in the poem, he is yet very frequently mentioned, it may be that in the
original French source he was more prominent. Friam is probably the
same name as Urian, in Book X. Vermandois and Nevers point to a French
origin.
Page 94, line 658--'_Save the tent of Eisenhart only_.' Cf. Book I. p.
16 and Note. Tents seem to have been favourite love-gifts at this time,
note the Booth in Books XI. and XII. given by Anfortas to Orgelusé,
and, as we know from _Willehalm_, sent to that king in the first
instance by Sekundillé.
Page 96, line 733--'_Meljanz of Lys_.' How Meljanz of Lys came to be
there is not explained. It is worthy of note that in Book VII. we find
the King of Lirivoin fighting against Meljanz, and taken captive by
Parzival; _here_ the men of Lirivoin are evidently on the same side.
Page 97, line 763--'_The wounds of Kay had been healed_.' Cf. Book VI.
p. 169 and Note to Book III.
Page 99. line 819--'_A knight his bridle drew_.' This knight is, of
course, Parzival, though how he came to be there is not explained. In
the _Conte del Graal_ Perceval does not appear on the scene for some
time, and passes through a variety of wild and fantastic adventures
before finally winning the Grail. The poem, as we possess it, is more
than twice as long as Wolfram's.
[With reference to the Klingsor and Iblis story, it is noteworthy that
Chrêtien's first continuator relates a long story of King Carduel of
Nantes and his reputed son Carados. The wife of King Carduel is beloved
by a magician, Garahiet, who is in truth the father of Carados. The
latter grows to manhood and goes to King Arthur's court to receive
knighthood, there a stranger knight appears and offers to allow his
head to be cut off provided the knight who accepts the challenge will
submit to the same ordeal a year later. Carados accepts, and strikes
off the head of the knight who picks it up and walks off. Returning
after a year he finds Carados ready to fulfil his part of the bargain,
and then acquaints him with the fact that he, and not Carduel, is in
truth his father. Carados returns to the court of Carduel and tells him
what he has learnt from the magician; the king in anger imprisons his
wife in a tower; she is nevertheless still visited by her lover, whom
the king eventually surprises and punishes in a manner appropriate to
his crime. This story, in its outline, appears to be the basis of the
Klingsor and Iblis episode, but it has been very freely handled by the
compiler, and, as suggested above, not improbably altered so as to draw
out the parallel between Klingsor and Anfortas.
A feature of importance in this connection is that the episode of
Carados and his magician father, a most famous story of the Arthurian
cycle, is elsewhere invariably associated with _Gawain_; _e.g._ in the
well-known Middle-English poem of 'Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,'
and it is difficult to understand why, in a part of the poem specially
devoted to the adventures of this knight, the French poet should have
attributed this, one of his greatest and most famous feats, to another
hero.
Here again we find a parallel in Irish literature; in the 'Fled
Bricrend,' Bricriu's feast, the feat by which Cuchulainn establishes
his claim to be regarded as the chief Ulster hero is precisely this
one; though the French poem in making the magician the father of the
hero seems to have retained an archaic trait which has disappeared
from the, in point of redaction, centuries older Irish story. But from
other Irish stories we know that Cuchulainn was the son of a god who is
sometimes represented as carrying off the mortal mother to his fairy
home, sometimes as visiting her in animal shape.
The foregoing facts warrant, I think, the conclusion that Gawain
originally occupied in the Brythonic hero-saga of Arthur much the same
position as Cuchulainn in the Goidelic hero-saga of Conchobor, both
being par excellence _the_ adventurous hero. Both, too, it should be
noted, are sister's son to the king of the cycle; the same position
being occupied by Diarmaid, _the_ adventurous hero of the Finn or
Ossianic cycle.
The nature of the connection between these cycles of romantic legend
cannot be dealt with here. It is sufficient to show that in the French
Arthurian poems of the twelfth century (which in one form or another
undoubtedly form the basis of the _Parzival_) we have piecings together
of originally disconnected narratives about separate heroes, many of
which are found in more archaic form in the stories told of the Irish
hero Cuchulainn and his compeers. In the process of piecing together,
adjusting to the genealogical requirements of the cycle and to the
social conceptions and literary modes of the twelfth century, the early
Celtic narratives suffered sadly as far as order and significance are
concerned, though gaining immensely in other respects. The changes are
of course greatest where such far-reaching new ideas as the symbolical
representation of Christian doctrine, or the exemplification of
lady-service, affect the original narrative.--ALFRED NUTT.]
BOOK XIV
Page 103, line 13--'_From Monsalväsch they came, the chargers_.'
This fact that both Parzival and Gawain are riding Grail steeds is
constantly insisted upon by Wolfram, and may be intended to emphasise
the parallel obviously drawn between the two heroes. It does not seem
very clear why Gawain, who here has nothing to do with Monsalväsch,
should ride a Grail steed; if Wolfram took over the fact from his
French source it may, perhaps, be a survival of Gawain's original
connection with the Grail Castle, which, as noted above, has been
dropped out of the German poem. The history of Gawain's charger has
been told more than once, cf. Book VII. p. 196 and Book IX. p. 272.
Parzival's horse is, of course, the one ridden by the Grail knight, cf.
Book IX. p. 258.
Page 104, line 38--'_Poinzacleins_.' Bartsch considers that the name
of this river points to a French source, and indicates the sloping
nature of its banks, the old French word for which would be _aclins_,
Provençal _aclis_.
Page 105, line 52--'_Punt, the water-locked city_.' _Punt_ = _pont_ =
bridge; German _Brücke_ or _Brügge_. The name of this town is decidedly
suggestive of _Bruges_, and considering the fact that Chrêtien
confessedly derived his version of the story from a book given to him
by the Count of Flanders, the frequent allusions throughout the poem to
men of 'Punturtois' should not be ignored.
Page 105, line 57--'_Count Bernard of Riviers_.' A name of undoubtedly
French origin. His father, Count Narant, has been mentioned in Book IV.
p. 119. Uckerland is probably a misunderstanding for Outre-land.
Page 105, line 74--'_Ecidemon-woven_.' This is a curious passage, as
we are distinctly told in Book XV. p. 136 that Ecidemon is an animal;
and as such it is named in Book IX. p. 276 among the list of poisonous
serpents. As we hear in Book XV. p. 136 that _Salamanders_ wove the
robe of Feirefis it is possible that the same power was ascribed to the
Ecidemon. But the passage is somewhat ambiguous, and _here_ a country,
and not an animal, may be meant.
Page 107, line 127 _and seq._--'_Killicrates_.' This name is of
distinctly Greek origin. We find in Book XV. p. 154 that he was King
of Centrium (which Bartsch identifies with the land of the Centaurs),
and one of the princes conquered by Feirefis. In the same list of names
we find Kalomedenté and Ipopotiticon; according to Bartsch the former
name is a compound of Kálamos, and signifies Reed-land; the latter
he suggests may be a variation of Hyperponticon, the land beyond the
Pontus. Agatyrsjenté may perhaps be the same as Assigarzionté mentioned
in Book XV. p. 136, as famous for its silks. '_Akraton_,' cf. Book
VIII. p. 230.
Page 108, line 150--'_He cast from his hand his weapon_.' It is worth
remarking how strongly Wolfram insists on this tie of brotherhood,
both of arms, as here, and of blood, as in Book XV. To fight with one
closely related by friendship, or one near of kin, is in his eyes a
sin against one's _self_, one's own personality. Other writers of the
cycle do not seem to consider such a combat, provided it were not to
death, in so serious a light. The etiquette connected with the naming
themselves by the knights should be noted; it was the right of the
victor to demand the name of the vanquished. Here, Parzival has heard
Gawain's name from the pages, and therefore makes no objection to
revealing himself; in the next Book when Feirefis asks his name he
refuses to give it, the combat between them is practically undecided,
and he will not admit Feirefis's right to put the question. That
Feirefis names himself is an act of courtesy on his part. This
unwillingness to name themselves was probably originally connected with
the idea of the identity of _name_ and _person_--once so universal; to
this day the superstition that it is unlucky to mention the name of a
person exists among certain races, and circumlocution and nicknames are
employed to avoid the necessity for disclosing the real appellation of
the individual referred to.
Page 110, line 237--'_In wrath spake the lips of Bené_.' We have
already been told in Book X. p. 24, that the Ferryman, Bené's father,
was of knightly birth, but it seems strange to find her addressing so
powerful a monarch as King Gramoflanz in such discourteous terms. As
noted before, the character of Bené and the part she plays are peculiar
to Wolfram's version, and difficult of explanation.
Page 113, line 325--'_Yet, Sire, when I saw thee last_.' Cf. Book VI.
p. 179, and Book XV. p. 158. Nevertheless, the other knights do not
seem in any way to have held Parzival as really dishonoured; they
receive and welcome him as one of their body, though he has _not_ won
the Grail, nor, so far, apparently expiated his sin in failing to put
the question.
Page 114, line 339--'_He should eat without on the meadow_.' Cf. Book
V. p. 154.
Page 115, line 402--'_Did women with wealth o'erburdened_,' _etc._ That
gifts of armour and warlike trappings were usual on the part of the
lady is evident from many passages, cf. Book II. p. 47 and Book XV. pp.
139, 147, 155.
Page 117, line 460--'_Affinamus of Clitiers_.' This knight has not been
named before. The same name occurs in the list of princes overcome by
Feirefis, Book XV. p. 154, but it is evidently a different individual.
Bartsch suggests that the name is of Greek origin, Clitiers being
derived from Clitorium.
Page 117, line 467--'_Then out spake King Lot's son gaily_.' Cf. p.
110, line 225.
Page 120, line 543--'_Thy sister Surdamur_.' Cf. Note to Book XII.
Page 121, line 587--'_Now greeting to whom I owe greeting_.' Bartsch
remarks that this love-letter and that addressed by Anflisé to Gamuret,
Book II. p. 44, are specially interesting as being almost the oldest
specimens of love-letters in German literature.
Page 124, line 675--'_Beau-corps_.' Cf. Book VI. p. 183. From the
passage on p. 114 it would seem as if Gawain had other brothers, as
in most stories of the cycle he has, but Wolfram mentions none but
Beau-corps.
Page 129, line 830 _and seq._--'_Arthur gave maid Itonjé_.' It has
been suggested that here Wolfram is indulging in sly mockery at the
many weddings which, as a rule, wound up the mediæval romances. In the
original tales the whole character of King Arthur and his court was
far less stamped with the rigid morality we have learned to associate
with them, and the somewhat indiscriminate promotion of love-affairs
and marriages (cf. Book XV. p. 157) is quite in keeping with what we
elsewhere read of the king. (See note to Book X. p. 204, for Mr. Nutt's
remarks on the marriage of Gawain being celebrated at the Château
Merveil, instead of at court.)
Page 130, line 869--'_But Parzival, he bethought him_,' _etc._ It
cannot be too strongly insisted upon that this presentment of Parzival
as a married man, and absolutely faithful to his wife is quite peculiar
to Wolfram's version of the story. Whether it is _entirely_ due to
the German poet we cannot now tell, but we meet with such constant
instances of Wolfram's sense of the sanctity of the marriage vow, and
the superiority of lawful, over unlawful, love, it seems most probable
that it is to his genius we owe this, the most beautiful feature of
the story. There is nothing answering to it either in Chrêtien or his
continuators, although in Gerbert the hero's successive failures are
declared to be due to his forsaking Blanchefleur.
BOOK XV
Page 135, line 22--'_His armour a knight displayed_.' The riches of
Feirefis and his costly raiment are dwelt upon at such length that one
suspects that the aim of the poet was to exalt the importance of the
House of Anjou; of which Feirefis, rather than Parzival, must here be
considered the representative.
Page 136, line 31--'_Agremontein_.' Cf. Book IX. p. 284.
Page 136, line 42--'_Thopedissimonté_,' _etc._ This place has not been
named before, and critics have not identified it with any known name.
Assigarzionté may, as suggested in Note to Book XIV., be the same as
Agatyrsjenté. Thasmé we already know, Book XIII. p. 74 and Note.
Page 137, line 59--'_Parzival rode not lonely_.' The expression of an
idea which seems to be a favourite one with Wolfram, cf. Book V. p. 139
and Book VIII. 242.
Page 137, line 81--'_As the lion-cub_,' _etc._ This fable, a belief in
which was general in the Middle Ages, is also mentioned by Wolfram in
his _Willehalm_.
Page 139, line 120--'_My brother and I are one body_,' _etc._ As
remarked before, Wolfram has an extremely high idea of the binding
nature of family relationships, cf. Book III. p. 97 and further on p.
145.
Page 139, line 121--'_Asbestos_.' Cf. Book IX. p. 281.
Page 139, line 138--'Kaukasus.' It is rather curious to find Sekundillé
associated with Kaukasus, as we are elsewhere told that she was queen
of Tribalibot, _i.e._ India. In Book X. p. 11 we are told that she
had golden mountains in her kingdom, which may have suggested the
connection.
Page 140, line 155--'_And the other, the precious jewels_,' _etc._ It
has already been remarked (Note to Book IX.) that the attribution of
strengthening virtue to precious stones, and the prominence given to
them throughout the poem, is a special feature of the _Parzival_. In
the next book we meet with a remarkable instance of this peculiarity.
Page 140, line 161--'_Kardeiss and Lohengrin_.' This is the first
intimation we have of the existence of Parzival's sons; from Kondrie's
speech on p. 159, he seems himself to have been unaware of their birth.
We hear of Parzival sending the knights conquered by him to yield
themselves captives to Kondwiramur (Book VII. p. 220 and Book VIII.
p. 243), and she, therefore, would be in some degree aware of her
husband's movements during the five years of separation; but we have
no indication of his having received any message from her; and from
the wandering life he led during these years (cf. Introduction to Book
IX.), and the fact that he had no squire in attendance who could act as
go-between, it seems most probable that Parzival heard nothing of his
wife throughout the entire time--a fact which makes his fidelity to her
even more striking. _Kardeiss_ was doubtless named after his mother's
brother, whose death is referred to in Book VI. p. 167. _Lohengrin_,
or as the name stands in the original, with an additional syllable,
_Loherangrin_, has been derived from _Lothringen_, the German form
Lorraine. If so, this may indicate the source of the story of the
Swan-knight, which did not, of course, originally belong to the Grail
legend.
Page 140, line 170--'_Pelrapär!_' seq. It is very curious that though
Wolfram emphasizes the fact (p. 139) that Parzival had regained his
faith in God, yet it is not this faith which stands him in good stead
in the hour of his greatest peril; neither is it his devotion to the
Grail; but it is his loyal love for, and fidelity to, his wife that
proves his salvation. If the aim of the poem were, as some critics
contend, a purely religious one, then we should surely find that at
the crucial moment of the hero's career religion, and not _Love_,
would be the saving power. As it is, Parzival's words to Gawain, Book
VI. p. 188, are abundantly borne out, and it _is_ his wife, and no
heavenly power, that acts as Guardian Angel. (The lines 170-71 are not
of course to be taken literally, '_o'er kingdoms four_' is used in
other old German poems as equivalent for '_a great distance_.' It is
not to be supposed that Kondwiramur was in any sense, even mystically,
aware of her husband's danger, though doubtless it is the conviction
that her love for him is as steadfast as his for her that strengthens
his arm.) Throughout this conflict between the two brothers it is
love, in the twelfth century form of _Minne-Dienst_, which is regarded
as the animating power on either side; though the fact that they are
respectively Christian and heathen is insisted on by the poet, yet
we do not find the conflict regarded as a struggle between the two
religions, nor any sign given of the superiority of the God of the
Christian to the heathen deities, in fact the same Divine Power is
invoked to shield them both (p. 139). It certainly seems here as if
the _knightly_ interpretation had, in a great measure, overborne the
_ethical_. That there _was_ an ethical signification attached to the
episode seems evident, not only from the fact that this conflict with
Feirefis, whose peculiar parti-coloured appearance recalls so strongly
the contrast between Doubt and Faith, drawn in the Introduction, is the
last stage in Parzival's long expiation; but also from the fact of
the breaking of Ither of Gaheviess' sword, of which special mention is
made in lines 173 and _seq._ The poet evidently intends us to regard
this as a token that Parzival's youthful sins have been atoned for,
and there seems little doubt that the incident was introduced here for
that purpose. That the sword here broken was originally the _Grail_
sword, and that the change was made by Wolfram from the difficulty
of reconciling that fact with previous statements (cf. Book IX. p.
252), as Simrock suggests, is most improbable, there would have been
no reason for the _Grail Sword_ breaking in this rather than in any
other combat (accepting Chrêtien's statement that the sword would break
only in _one peril_; it had withstood considerably more than _one
blow_), quite the contrary, as here Parzival is practically the Grail
champion; but there is a deep significance in this shattering of the
last token of the headstrong folly of his youth. It seems most probable
that Wolfram found this incident in his source; and that the original
meaning of the combat was to depict the last desperate struggle of the
soul with Doubt, wherein by _steadfast resistance_ (absolute conquest
is not at once to be looked for) the sins of the past are wiped out,
and the soul becomes finally worthy of reward.
Page 141, line 195--'_Thro' fear shall I tell my name?_' Cf. Note
to Book XIV. The courteous and knightly bearing of Feirefis, both
here and on p. 142, should be noted. In everything but faith he is
quite the equal of his Christian brother; indeed it must be admitted
that, compared with either Feirefis or Gawain, _Parzival_ gives the
impression of being a much less courtly and polished figure. His
character seems stamped throughout with a rugged simplicity and
directness, quite in keeping with what we are told of his wild and
lonely youth. It is noticeable, too, how very little, comparatively
speaking, Parzival says; though all the speeches put into his mouth
have an earnestness and depth of feeling which we do not find in the
much more frequent utterances of Gawain. Wolfram's tolerant treatment
of heathen, generally, has often been a subject of remark by critics;
and, with regard to Feirefis, the number of allusions to him which the
_Willehalm_ contains lead one to the conclusion that this character, in
particular, was a favourite with the poet.
Page 141, line 202--'_How shall "Angevin" be thy title?_' The reader
will probably by this time have noticed that, King of Anjou as Parzival
is, he is never called an Angevin, but is invariably referred to as
a 'Waleis,' his mother's country. It is his _mother's_ kingdoms of
which he has been deprived (cf. Book III. pp. 73, 80, 87), and this is
really the first indication we have that he knows himself to be also
lord of Anjou. Gamuret is alluded to, and gives his name as, Gamuret
Angevin; Feirefis, is always Feirefis Angevin; but Parzival, the hero
of the story and the real glory of his house, is not an Angevin but a
'Waleis.' This shows clearly that the _Angevin_ element formed no part
of the original Perceval legend, but that it has been grafted on to a
previously existing Celtic basis.
Page 141, line 205--'_Béalzenan_.' Cf. Book V. p. 147 and Note.
Page 142, line 230--'_As written parchment_.' Ekuba did _not_ say this
in Wolfram's version, cf. Book VI. p. 186, possibly the simile was in
the French source and has been dropped out. It is a curious idea to
occur to a man who, like Wolfram, could not write; and it is also a
curious speech to put into the mouth of one who, like Parzival, had
been brought up in the desert, and deprived of the ordinary training
due to his rank.
Page 143, line 241--'_Blest be Juno_,' _etc._ This ascription of
Latin gods and goddesses to _all_ the non-Christian races was not
unusual in the Middle Ages; Apollo was the god most commonly thus
transferred. It is rather curious though to find the mistake made in
a poem so obviously tinged by Oriental influences as the _Parzival_.
Wolfram, too, seems to have known that the Saracens had other gods, in
_Willehalm_ he names as such Apollo, Mahmet, and Tervigant.
Page 144, line 275--'_When King Eisenhart's life was run_.' Cf. Book I.
p. 28.
Page 144, line 294--'_Till King Ipomidon_.' Cf. Book II. p. 59.
Page 146, line 353--'_From Château Merveil_,' _etc._ Cf. Book XII. p.
53.
Page 147, line 377--'_Saranthasmé_.' Cf. Book XIII. p. 74 and note.
Page 149, line 458--'_Wizsant_.' A haven on the coast of France,
near Boulogne, much frequented at that time. Writers of the period
frequently allude to it.
Page 153, line 583 and _seq._, page 154, line 615 and _seq._ The
list of kings conquered by Feirefis and Parzival contain some very
perplexing names, the originals of which have evidently been corrupted
in process of transmission from one language to another. Bartsch, who
has devoted considerable time to the study of the proper names in the
_Parzival_, has endeavoured, with varying success, to identify the
majority; and the following suggestions are taken from his article on
the subject, already quoted in Appendix B, of vol. i.
In the first list, that of the princes conquered by Feirefis, names of
Greek origin are of frequent occurrence; thus Papirus of Trogodjenté,
Bartsch identifies as the king of the Troglodytæ; Liddamus of Agrippé
was originally Laodamus of Agrippias; Tinodent, the island of Tenedos;
Milon is, of course, a well-known Greek name, as is Kallicrates, here
Killicrates, Filones of Hiberborticon is the Greek _Philon_; and it
may be taken as a general rule that all the names ending in _on_, in
this list, may be traced more or less directly to a Greek source.
Possizonjus is a version of Poseidonios (having probably passed through
a Latin medium); Atropfagenté is the land of the Androphagi, or
Anthropophagi; Acheinor is the Greek _Archenor_.
In the list of the heroes conquered by Parzival we have, on the
contrary, few classical names; Jeropleis, _i.e._ Hieropolis, seems to
be almost the only example. The majority of the names appear to be of
Romance origin, or at least to have passed through a Romance source.
Thus Mirabel, the name of a place in Southern France, and Serabel,
here the ending _bel_ indicates the French origin; Villegarunz is the
Prov. _Villagrana_; Jovedast of Arles, a Provençal, proclaims his own
nationality.
It is probably no accident that this majority of classical names appear
in the first list, that of Feirefis, since, as noted above, Greeks and
Romans alike were classed by the mediæval writers as heathens, and they
would see nothing incorrect in giving Saracens classical names, in the
same way as they provided them with classical deities.
Page 154, line 608--'_Olympia and Klauditté_.' Here again we find the
names of the three queens beloved by Feirefis of distinctly classical
origin: Klauditté being a French derivation from Claudia. Sekundillé is
the only queen of whom we hear elsewhere, the other two are mentioned
by name only.
Page 155, line 643--'_Heraclius or Hercules_.' Heracles was the
hero of a German poem of the twelfth century, which attributes to
him a knowledge of the properties of precious stones. The Alexander
here referred to is Alexander the Great; not the lover of Surdamur,
mentioned in Books XII. and XIV. (cf. note to XII.)
Page 156, line 664--'_Drianthasmé_.' Apparently a combination of
Triande and Thasmé, cf. Book XIII. p. 74.
Page 158, line 723--'_With turtle-doves, all shining_.' Kondrie does
not seem to have borne the badge of the Grail on her first visit (Book
VI. p. 177); this, her second appearance, seems to bear more of an
official character.
Page 158, line 741--'_Without a kiss_.' A kiss was the customary sign
and seal of forgiveness (cf. Book V. 151, 152; Book VI. 177; Book XIV.
129), but Kondrie is fully aware of her repulsive appearance, and
would, therefore, release Parzival from the fulfilment of a distasteful
duty. It must be noted that, throughout the poem, Kondrie is in no
sense represented as a malicious character. Her brother, Malcréature,
on the contrary, seems to have been thoroughly evil-disposed, cf. Book
X. p. 12.
Page 159, line 767--'_Now rejoice with a humble heart_.' Kondrie's
announcement to Parzival appears, in some points, to be a direct
contradiction of what we have already been told with regard to the
promised healing of Anfortas. In Book IX. p. 278, Trevrezent distinctly
says that the question must be asked on the _first_ night of the visit
to the Castle; that no warning must be previously given; and that
_if_ the knight fulfils these conditions, then, and then only, will
he become king of the Grail. Now Parzival apparently traverses all
these conditions, he omits to ask the question on his first visit, he
is told of the sin he has thereby committed, and on this, his second
visit, is made well aware of what is expected of him (cf. lines 774
and _seq._), while the Grail announces him as king _before_ he has
asked the question. It is true that no one tells him the exact words
in which he is to put the query, but Parzival is well aware that he
is to ask Anfortas the cause of his anguish, and it scarcely seems
likely that the virtue of the question depends upon the form in which
it is put. Are we to consider from Trevrezent's words, Book XVI. p.
171, that Parzival's valour and steadfastness of purpose have wrought
a change in the Divine Counsels, and that the bliss which he had in
his folly forfeited is to be granted to him on his fulfilment of the
_spirit_ of the Grail conditions, the fulfilment of the _letter_ being
dispensed with? The question is a perplexing one, and difficult to
solve satisfactorily.
Page 160, line 779--'_Seven stars did she name unto him_.' The
introduction of these Arabic names is decidedly curious in view of
Wolfram's emphatic statement that the origin of the _Parzival_ was an
Arabic MS., though Bartsch remarks that the names in question were not
necessarily derived from the source, there being still extant a German
astronomical poem of the twelfth century which contains a number of
Arabic names. Still it is strange that Wolfram's version should be
as close as it is to the original form of the words, thus Zevâl is
the Arabic _Zuhal_, Saturn; Almustri, _El-musteri_, Jupiter; Almaret,
_El-mirrêk_, Mars; Samsi, _Shams_, the Sun; Alligafir and Alkamer
cannot be exactly identified with the remaining two planets, Venus and
Mercury, but seem to represent rather the names of two constellations,
respectively called El-gafir and El-kidr. Alkamer is the moon, Arabic
_El-kamer_.
Page 160, line 799--'_If thou speakest, Lady_.' The humility of this
speech of Parzival's, contrasted with the indignant outbreak of wounded
pride in Book VI. pp. 187, 188, is the most decisive proof which the
poem affords of the spiritual change which has passed over him, and of
his fitness to become king of the Grail, a blessing which Anfortas has
forfeited through lack of humility (cf. Book IX. p. 272 and Book XVI.
p. 182).
Page 161, line 817--'_From the bright eyes of Orgelusé_.' Cf. Book XII.
p. 65.
Page 162, line 861--'_Triant_.' Cf. Book XIII. p. 74. Nouriente = von
ourient, _i.e._ Orient.
BOOK XVI
Page 165, line 5, _and seq._--'_Then he spake to the knights of
Monsalväsch_.' Those readers who are familiar with Wagner's _Parzival_
will see in this speech of Anfortas to the knights, and his attempt
to win death for himself by shutting his eyes to the Grail, the germ
of the scene in the Grail Temple in Act III. of the Drama. It will be
noted that _here_ Anfortas does not injure any one but himself by this
attempt at self-destruction. Titurel is still alive, cf. p. 178. It
is noteworthy that the knights still await the advent of the promised
Healer; though, as we gather from Trevrezent's speech, Book IX. p. 278,
'The knight, he hath come, and hath left us,' they were aware that
_Parzival_ was he, and had failed to fulfil his mission.
Page 166, line 49--'_Teriak_.' Cf. Book IX. p. 278, Ambra=Amber.
Page 167, line 67, _and seq._--'_Carbuncle and Balas ruby_,' _etc._
It has before been remarked that the belief in the virtue of precious
stones was very real and very general in the Middle Ages. Similar lists
are given by various writers, Albertus Magnus among them; and San Marte
remarks that, if this list is compared with mediæval writings, it will
be found that the names have not been put together in a haphazard
fashion, but that the special virtue ascribed to each stone has a
direct bearing on Anfortas' sufferings. _Jewels_, in the strict sense
of the term, these stones are not exclusively, _e.g._ we find Asbestos
and Pyrites among the list; the expression 'precious stones' was freely
construed in those days. The Latin equivalent of all these names can be
found in writings of the period, but it would scarcely be interesting
to give a minute description and identification.
Page 169, line 119--'_And e'en as was there the custom_.' Cf. Book V.
p. 132.
Page 169, line 130--'_O'er-long have I waited_.' Anfortas' speech to
Parzival is curious; some critics have opined that he alone was not
aware of the lately read Grail writing, and of Parzival's election to
the Grail kingdom, and was, therefore, in doubt as to whether or not he
was the destined Deliverer. But, if that were the case, how did he come
not only to know Parzival's name, but to lay such stress upon it ('If
_Parzival_ men shall call thee, _then_, etc.'), _i.e._ 'If thou art
indeed the chosen ruler of these knights, then exercise thine authority
on my behalf.' We learn from Book IX. p. 271, that the _name_ of the
elect knights appeared on the Grail. If Anfortas had learnt it from
Trevrezent, the only other source of information he could have had,
he would have had no doubt of the identity of the promised Deliverer
with the knight who had already paid an abortive visit to the Castle;
as it is, he recognises him at once, but is in doubt whether he is
the 'Parzival' named by the Grail. The meaning of his speech seems to
be that Anfortas was unaware how far Parzival himself was acquainted
with the _rôle_ assigned to him, and feared to transgress the Grail's
commandment, and risk the promised healing by saying too much.
Page 169, line 141--'_Now say where the Grail It lieth?_' It is
remarkable that though Parzival is well aware of the nature of the
question which he is to put to Anfortas, and of the happy results which
will follow (p. 159), yet he fully realises that this healing can only
be brought about by the blessing of God; it is as God's Messenger, and
not in his own power, that he speaks. He feels himself, and wishes the
knights to regard him, merely as the instrument in God's hand; there is
no trace of self-assertion or presumption in his action, the grace of
humility has been fully won. The beautiful touch in lines 155-56 seems
to show that to Anfortas, also, the long ordeal issued in distinct
spiritual gain. It is worth noting that, from this point onwards,
Anfortas is spoken of as a knight in the prime of life, worthy to be
compared in skill and prowess with his nephew, Parzival, and excelling
him in physical beauty; whereas Trevrezent, who was considerably the
younger (cf. Book IX. p. 275), is always spoken of as an old man. This
is, of course, due to the youth-preserving powers of the Grail (cf.
Book IX. p. 270), so Répanse-de-Schoie, who had been in the service of
the Grail from her childhood, would have retained the appearance of a
young girl, and there is nothing surprising, therefore, in Feirefis
becoming enamoured of her beauty.
Page 178, line 147--'_By the mouth of His saint, Sylvester_.' An
allusion to a well-known story told of S. Sylvester; how when he was
defending Christianity against a Jew, in the presence of the Emperor
Constantine, he restored to life, by the invocation of Christ, a steer
which the Jew had slain by whispering the most Holy Name into its ear,
but had failed to revivify by the same means.
Page 170, line 168--'_The wood when they fought of old_.' Cf. Book VI.
p. 160 and _seq._ This reunion of Parzival and Kondwiramur on the very
spot where he had been overcome by the mystic love-trance is a most
poetical feature of Wolfram's version, and one found nowhere else.
Page 171, line 183--'_Greater marvel I ne'er may see_.' Cf. Book IX. p.
267. This passage, with its practical unsaying of much that Trevrezent
has said in Book IX., is extremely difficult of explanation. That
there is a distinct discrepancy, not to say contradiction, between the
statements of Book IX. and those of Book XVI. is undoubtedly the fact;
the most probable solution appears to be that suggested in Excursus
C at p. 194 of this volume; _i.e._ the original interpretation, that
of Kiot, was purely religious, and it was that which Wolfram in Book
IX. was mainly following; he himself, however, had grafted another
meaning on to that originally suggested, that of salvation by fidelity
to the knightly ideal, the power of the _unverzagter mannes muot_.
By the time Wolfram had reached the end of the poem, he found that
his interpretation had dominated that of Kiot, he had practically
made Parzival do that which Trevrezent says is impossible ('Wouldst
thou force thy God with thine anger?' Book IX. p. 267. 'Thou by thy
wrath hast won blessing'), and this passage seems to be an attempt to
harmonise these two conflicting ideas. It is certainly not easy of
interpretation, for on the face of it, while Trevrezent is asserting
the unchanging nature of God's decrees, as illustrated by the history
of the rebel angels, he is also implying that Parzival himself has been
the object of special and peculiar favour on the part of the Deity, and
that the foreordained course of events has in his case been at least
modified.
Page 172, line 213--'_Duke Kiot of Katelangen_.' Cf. Book IV. p. 107,
and Book IX. p. 274.
Page 174, line 277--'_When many a year had flown_.' This is the only
indication we have of the eventual recovery of Parzival's inheritance.
From the emphasis laid upon the episode in Book III. one would have
expected to find Parzival himself making some effort for the recovery
of his kingdoms, but he never seems to have done so (cf. Notes to Book
III. pp. 308, 309).
Page 174, line 302--'_Schoysiané, the dead maid's mother_.' In
Wolfram's poem, _Titurel_, we find exactly the reverse of this
statement; _i.e._ Siguné, whose mother died at her birth (as we are
repeatedly told), was given into the care of the mother of Kondwiramur,
and the two children were brought up together till Siguné was five
years old, when Herzeleide persuaded Duke Kiot to transfer his daughter
to her charge. How this discrepancy arose is not clear; Wolfram may
perhaps have forgotten what he had said in _Titurel_, or he may have
followed his French source.
Page 174. line 306--'_Nor my tale like the bow shall be bended_.' Cf.
Book V. p. 137.
Page 175, line 310--'_A Templar of Patrigalt_.' Cf. Book II. p. 39.
Page 175, line 319--'_Garschiloie of Greenland_.' Cf. Book V. p. 144.
Greenland here is not to be understood as the Greenland we know, but
as part of Norway. The Grail maidens have not been individually named
before, though the Countess of Tenabroc and the daughter of Jernis were
mentioned in Book V. pp. 133, 134. Florie of Lünel may be the daughter
of the Count of _Nonel_ named in conjunction with Jernis.
Page 177, line 373--'_Claret, Morass, or Sinopel_.' Morass seems to
have been a wine made from mulberries; Sinopel, wine mixed with sweet
syrups.
Page 178, line 411--'_The Tourney hath fashions five_.' Cf. Note to
Book II. 'The Tourney.'
Page 178, line 434--'_If he be a heathen_.' This inability of the
unbaptized to behold the Grail, and the renewal of the power of the
stone every Good Friday are the two most direct proofs of the Christian
nature of the Talisman to be found in the poem. As remarked in Note
to Book IX., Wolfram never seems really to connect the Grail with the
Passion of our Lord.
Page 179, line 441--'_If I, for your sake, be baptizèd_.' It should be
noted that Feirefis is not in the least influenced by any religious
motive in seeking Baptism; throughout, as in the combat with Parzival
in Book XV., it is _Love_ that is his guiding impulse.
Page 181, line 501--'_God is Man_,' _etc._ Cf. p. 171 where Trevrezent
makes use of exactly the same words.
Page 181, line 506--'_Each tree from the water draweth_,' _etc._ This
and the following lines are inscribed on the fountain erected in 1860
to the memory of the poet, in the market-place of Ober-Eschenbach.
Page 182, line 526--'_The Templar whom God henceforward_.' In the face
of the antiquity of the Swan-knight legend, it is impossible to regard
this as more than an ingenious attempt on the part either of Wolfram or
of his French authority to account for Lohengrin's prohibition of the
question, cf. Note on 'Lohengrin.'
Page 183, line 562--'_Anfortas, he sent a message_.' Cf. Book IX. p.
285.
Page 183, line 566--'_Loehprisein_,' Book VIII. and Note.
'Loehtamreis,' Book XII. and Note.
Page 183, line 580--'_Camelot_.' This is the only mention in this poem
of the town so well known in other versions of the Arthurian legend.
Page 184, line 589--'_Prester John_.' The belief in a Christian kingdom
in the East, ruled over by a king who was at the same time a priest was
very widely spread in the Middle Ages, but it is very curious to find
it thus connected with the Grail legend. Simrock takes this connection
to be a confirmation of his theory, that the Grail myth was originally
closely connected with St. John the Baptist. According to _Der jüngere
Titurel_, a poem which, professedly written by Wolfram and long
supposed to be his, is now known to be the work of a certain Albert
von Scharffenburg, the Grail with its guardians, Parzival, Lohengrin,
Kondwiramur, and all the Templars, eventually left Monsalväsch, and
found a home in the domains of Prester John, but the story seems to be
due rather to the imagination of the writer than to any real legendary
source.
Page 184, line 610, _and seq._--'_The Lohengrin myth_.' This legend of
a supernatural benefactor or deliverer, who arrives at the land which
he is to benefit in a boat, miraculously guided, and leaves it in
the same way, is extremely widely spread, and may be regarded rather
as the property of the Aryan race as a whole, than of one nation in
particular. In its earliest forms, such as the legend of Sceaf among
the Anglo-Saxons, and Höni in the Faroe Isles, the hero is undoubtedly
of divine origin, and the second of these seems to be the first in
which the swan element is introduced. The original signification
appears to be that of a 'year-myth,' symbolising the conflict between
the seasons; the god of spring first overcoming, and then in his turn
being overcome by, the power of winter. Bloete, in an article on the
subject in the _Zeitschrift für Deutsches Alterthum_, explains the
connection with the swan by the fact that this is a migratory bird,
and that in the days when the lower part of the Rhine formed a marshy
Delta, swans frequented these lowlands in large numbers on their way
to, and from, their summer quarters in Northern Europe. In this way
the birds were the heralds alike of the coming and of the departing
light and warmth, and became associated with the embodied genius of
spring and summer. It is certainly a curious fact that the legend of
the Swan-knight in its developed form is distinctly to be traced to
these countries. The original association with the god of light, Bloete
thinks, was the work of Keltic fancy, and by them imparted to their
Batavian successors in the lowlands of the Rhine. By the thirteenth
century, the story had clothed itself in distinctly chivalric form, the
hero was no longer a god, but a knight, and in this shape the legend
became connected with the origin of more than one noble family of the
day; notably with that of Godfrey de Bouillon, the Crusader. It is
noticeable in this connection that Gerbert, one of the continuators
of Chrêtien, has a passage prophesying that of Perceval's race shall
spring the 'Swan-knight and the Deliverer of the Holy Sepulchre.'
This passage, together with the fact that Wolfram connects Lohengrin
with Brabant, seems to indicate that the German poet was not the first
to connect the legend of the Swan-knight with that of the Grail,
but found the story in his French source; though he certainly gives
the earliest version of the legend in the shape in which, through
Wagner's _Lohengrin_, it is familiar to us to-day. A more prolonged
and elaborate account of Lohengrin's adventures is given in _Der
jüngere Titurel_ already referred to; here the lady is the Duchess
of Lizaborye, and the catastrophe is brought about by the advice of
a treacherous maid, who persuades the Duchess that if she cuts off,
roasts, and eats a portion of her husband's flesh, he will be unable
to leave her. In pursuance of this intention, armed knights break into
Lohengrin's chamber at night, and in the struggle with them, though
overcoming his assailants, he is himself slain. The unhappy wife dies
of grief, and the name of the country is changed from Lizaborye to
Lothringen (Lorraine) in memory of Lohengrin. (Those familiar with the
Wagner Drama will note the skill with which Wagner has combined these
two versions of the legend.)
In the forbidden question we probably have a surviving testimony to
the originally divine nature of the hero; it is a well-known feature
of such legends that a mortal wife wedded to a divine husband may not
inquire too closely into that husband's nature, _e.g._ the myths of
Jupiter and Semele, and of Eros and Psyche. The question therefore
probably belongs to the original form of the story, and the passage on
p. 182 is merely, as suggested above, an ingenious attempt to explain a
feature which puzzled the later compilers.
Page 186, line 661--'_Here Herr Erec should speak_.' An allusion to
Hartmann's _Erec_, so often referred to. The hero forbids his wife
to speak to him, she breaks the silence in order to warn him of an
impending danger, and is punished by him for so doing.
Page 186, line 663--'_If Chrêtien of Troyes_,' _etc._ Here for the
first time Wolfram gives us clearly to understand that he knew
Chrêtien's Grail poem, but deliberately preferred to follow Kiot's'
version, to which he has made frequent allusions. If Wolfram's
statement is to be accepted as it stands, we must perforce conclude
that both the first two books and the last three (of which Chrêtien
has no trace) were in Kiot's poem, '_To the end_, the Provençal told
it.' Certainly Wolfram himself does not wish us to consider that any
part of the tale was due to his own invention, but rather that he was
throughout faithfully adhering to lines already laid down. The question
of the connection between Chrêtien and Wolfram will be found fully
discussed in Excursus B.
FINIS
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