Book V: Anfortas

Now he who would hear what befell him who thus for ventures sought,Shall hearken many a marvel ere the tale to an end be wroughtLet the son of Gamuret ride forth, and all ye good folk and trueWish him well, for bitter sorrow this hero hereafter knew,Tho' honour and joy should crown him--And sorely his heart did grieveThat the wife he loved so dearly he now for a space must leave.For the mouth never read of woman, and never hath tale been toldOf a fairer wife and truer, and his heart did she captive hold,And his spirit so high was troubled by thoughts of his wife and queen--Had courage not been his birthright he had lost it ere this, I ween!

O'er rock and marshy moorland, with loosened reins the steedDashed free, the rider thought not to guide or check its speed.Of a truth the venture telleth, so far did he ride that dayE'en a bird had been outwearied, and its flight were fain to stay.An the tale hath not betrayed me, no further the knight did fareWhen Ither he slew, or from Graharz rode swift unto Pelrapär.

Now hear ye what chanced unto him; he came at the close of dayTo a water fair, and upon it many boats at anchor lay,And the fishers were lords of the water; to the shore did they lie so nearThat e'en as they saw him riding his question they well might hear.And one he saw in a vessel all clad in such royal prideScarce richer had been his vesture were he lord of the world so wide;Of peacock's plumes his head-gear--Then the knight to the Fisher spakeAnd he prayed him for knighthood's bidding, and he prayed him for God's dear sake,To help him unto a shelter where he might thro' the night hours rest.And the Fisher sad he answered in this wise the stranger guest;

And he quoth, 'Nay, Sir Knight, I know not for full thirty miles around,By land alike or water, where dwelling may yet be foundSave one house, I would bid thee seek it, for it lieth in sooth anear,Thro' the livelong day wert thou riding none other thou findest here.Ride there to the high cliff's ending, then turn thee to thy right handUntil to the moat thou comest, and thy charger perforce must stand;Then bid thou the castle warder to let the drawbridge fallAnd open to thee the portals, then ride thou unto the hall.'

Then he did as the Fisher bade him, and leave would he courteous pray,But he quoth, 'I myself will thine host be, an thou fail not to find the way,Be thy thanks then as is our tendance--As thou ridest around the hillHave a care lest the wood mislead thee, such mischance would but please me ill.'

Then Parzival turned his bridle, and gaily he took his way,Nor missed he the path till before him the moat of the castle lay;And the drawbridge was raised, and the fortress it lacked not for strength I trow,As a turner with skill had wrought them stood the turrets in goodly row.But with wings, or on winds of heaven uplifted, might ye have wonTo that Burg, an a foeman stormed it little harm he methinks had done.And so strong were the towers and the palace that its folk they had held the hallAnd mocked at the foe, if all armies thirty years long beset the wall.

Then a squire looked forth from the castle, of the knight was he well aware,And he asked whence he came? and wherefore he thought to their Burg to fare?And Parzival spake, ''Tis the Fisher who hath bidden me ride to thee,With all courtesy have I thanked him for the shelter he proffered free,'Tis his will that the bridge be lowered, and I ride here the Burg within.''Sir Knight thou shalt here be welcome, and thy way to the Burg shalt winSince the Fisher so spake--And honour would we shew unto thee his guest!'Then the squire he let fall the drawbridge, for so was their lord's behest.

So the hero came to the fortress, to a courtyard so broad and wide,By knightly sports untrodden--Nor oft would they Tourneys ride,(By short green turf was it covered) and but seldom with banners brightAs on Abenberg's field did they ride there, as fitting for gallant knight.'Twas long since they might disport them in such pastimes of warlike skill,For sorrow lay heavy on them, and mirth it beseemed them ill.

But little the guest should rue that, for knights both old and young,They welcomed him with all honour, and swift to his bridle sprung.And pages of noble breeding laid their hands on his bridle rein,And others would hold his stirrup as the knight to dismount was fain.And the knights they prayed him enter, and they led him where he might rest,And with ready hands and skilful of his armour they freed the guest,And they looked on the beardless hero, and they saw his face so fair,And they spake, of a truth Good Fortune and blessing should be his share.

Then he bade them to bring him water, and the rust-stains he washed awayFrom face and hands, and they saw him as the light of a second day,So he sat in all eyes lovely--Then a mantle rich they broughtOf silk of Araby fashioned, and flaw therein was there naught;And he laid it around his shoulder, that hero so fair and bright,But the clasp did he leave unfastened, and with one voice they praised the knight.

'Repanse de Schoie, our lady and queen, did this mantle bear,'Quoth the chamberlain, 'She hath lent it while fit robes they for thee prepare.And I feared not this boon to ask her since it seemeth sure to meThat a gallant man and faithful, Sir Knight, thou shalt prove to be!''God reward thee who lookest on me with such true and trusting heart,Methinks, an thou seest rightly, Good Fortune shall be my part,Yet I wot well such gifts come only from the power of God on high.'Then gladly they pledged the hero, and in honour and loyaltyThey who sorrowed with him were joyful; far more had they there, I ween,Than at Pelrapär, when his right hand their shelter from grief had been!Then sadly he thought, as his harness the squires on one side would bear,That in knightly joust and Tourney he here might find little share.Then one to the host would call him, and fast came his words and free,And boldly he spake to the stranger, yea, e'en as in wrath might be.With his life had he nigh paid forfeit to Parzival's youthful pride,For he laid his hand to his sword-hilt--When he found it not by his sideThen he clenched his fist so tightly that the clasp rung the blood-drops redFrom beneath his nails, and crimson to the sleeve of his robe they spread.

'Nay, nay,' quoth the knights, 'be not wrathful, for fain would he make us smile,He hath licence to jest, and with jesting our sadness would he beguile.Show thy courtesy here towards him, nor be wroth for a foolish word,That the Fisher hath come to the castle, naught else shalt thou here have heard.Now do thou to our lord betake thee, here art thou an honoured guest,And the load of thy heavy anger be banished from off thy breast.'

To the palace hall they gat them, where a hundred crowns hung lowWith many a taper laden; round the walls shone the tapers' glow.And beneath stood a hundred couches, with a hundred cushions fair,And each of these goodly couches four knights should between them share.And betwixt each twain of the couches an open space was found,And before each there lay a carpet of cunning work fashioned round.Thereto had he wealth in plenty, King Frimutel's son and heir:And one thing had they not forgotten, nor their gold did they think to spare,For within the hall were builded three hearths of marble rare,With skill and wisdom fashioned, and each hearth stood four-square,And the wood was Lignum aloe, and so great a fire, I ween,Ne'er hath burnt on the hearth at Wildberg--Such things have aye costly been.

And the host had bid them lay him on a costly folding bed'Fore the central hearth; and gladness from before his face had fled,And his life was but a dying--Parzival the hero fairIn the hall found kindly welcome from him who had sent him there.Then his host bade him stand no longer, but be seated his couch anear,'Yea, here by my side, didst thou seat thee yet further from me, I fear'Twere treating thee as a stranger'--In this wise to his gallant guestSpake the host thus rich in sorrow, whose heart was by grief opprest.

And the host he craved thro' his sickness great fires, and warm robes would wearBoth wide and long, and with sable were they lined and garnished fair.And the poorest skin was costly, and black was its hue and grey;And a cap of the self-same fashioned he wore on his head that day,'Twas within and without of sable, with bands of Arabian goldWrought around, and a flashing ruby in the centre might all behold.

Now many brave knights they sat there, and grief passed their face before,For a squire sprang swift thro' the doorway, and a lance in his hand he bore,(And thus did he wake their weeping) from the point did the blood run fastAdown to the hand of the holder till 'twas lost in his sleeve at last.And then thro' the lofty palace was weeping and wailing sore,The folk of thirty kingdoms could scarce have bemoaned them more.And thus to each of the four walls with the lance in his hand he drew,Till he reached once again the doorway, and passed him the portal thro'.And stilled was the lamentation, and the grief that this folk must knowWhen the squire bare the lance before them, and thus bade them to think on woe.

(An here ye be not outwearied I gladly would tell the tale,How the feast in this Burg was ordered, for in courtesy naught did fail.)

At the end of the hall a doorway of steel did they open fair,And two noble children entered--Now hearken what guise they bare,An a knight for love would serve them, with love they his task might pay,Two fair and gracious maidens as e'er man might woo were they.And each wore on her hair loose flowing, a chaplet of blossoms boundWith silken band, beneath it their tresses sought the ground.And the hand of each maiden carried a candlestick all of gold,And every golden socket did a burning taper hold.Nor would I forget the raiment these gentle maidens ware,For one was Tenabroc's countess, ruddy-brown was her robe so fair,And the self-same garb wore the maiden who beside the countess paced,And with girdles rich and costly were they girt round each slender waist.And behind them there came a Duchess and her fellow; of ivory whiteTwo stools they bare, and glowing their lips e'en as fire is bright.Then they bowed, the four, and bending, the stools 'fore the host they laid,Nor was aught to their service lacking, but fitly their part they played.Then they stood all four together, and their faces were fair to see,And the vesture of each fair maiden was like to the other three.

Now see how they followed swiftly, fair maidens twice told four,And this was I ween their office, four tapers tall they bore;Nor the others deemed too heavy the weight of a precious stone,And by day the sun shone thro' it, and as Jacinth its name is known.'Twas long and broad, and for lightness had they fashioned it fair and meetTo serve at will for a table where a wealthy host might eat.And straight to the host they stepped them, and they bowed their fair heads low,And four laid the costly table on the ivory white as snow,The stools they had placed aforetime--and courteous they turned aside,And there by their four companions stood the eight in their maiden pride.

And green were the robes of these maidens, green as grass in the month of May,Of Samite in Assagog woven, and long and wide were they.At the waist were they girt with a girdle, narrow, and long, and fair,And each of these gentle maidens ware a wreath on her shining hair.

Now Iwan, the Count of Nonel, and Jernis, the lord of Reil,To the Grail were their daughters summoned from many a distant mile.And they came, these two princesses, in raiment wondrous fair,And two keen-edged knives, a marvel, on cloths did those maidens bear.Of silver white and shining were they wrought with such cunning skill,And so sharp, that methinks their edges e'en steel might they cut at will.And maidens four went before them, for this should their office beTo bear lights before the silver; four children from falsehood free.Six maidens in all they entered and took thro' the hall their way,Now hearken, and I will tell ye the service they did that day.

They bowed, and the twain who carried the silver they laid it lowOn the Jacinth, and courteous turning to the first twelve in order go.And now, have I counted rightly, here shall eighteen maidens stand;And lo! see six more come hither in vesture from distant lands,Half their robes were of silk, gold inwoven, half of silk of Nineveh bright,For both they and the six before them, parti-coloured their robes of light.

And last of those maids a maiden, o'er the others was she the queen,So fair her face that they thought them 'twas the morning's dawn, I ween!And they saw her clad in raiment of Pfellel of Araby,And she bare aloft on a cushion of verdant AchmardiRoot and blossom of Paradise garden, that thing which men call 'The Grail,'The crown of all earthly wishes, fair fulness that ne'er shall fail!Repanse de Schoie did they call her, in whose hands the Grail might lie,By the Grail Itself elected was she to this office high.And they who would here do service, those maids must be pure of heart,And true in life, nor falsehood shall have in their dealings part.

And lights both rare and costly before the Grail they boreSix glasses tall, transparent--and wondrous balsam's storeBurnt within with a strange sweet perfume; with measured steps they came,And the queen bowed low with the maidens who bare the balsam's flame.Then this maiden free from falsehood, the Grail on the Jacinth laid,And Parzival looked upon her, and thought of the royal maidElect to such high office, whose mantle he needs must wear.Then the seven courteous turned them to the eighteen maidens fair,And the noblest they placed in the centre, and twelve on either sideThey stood, but the crownèd maiden no beauty with hers had vied!

And as many knights as were seated around that palace hall,So to each four was there a server, with golden beaker tall,And a page so fair to look on who bare a napkin white--Riches enow, I trow me, had ye seen in the hall that night!And they bare there a hundred tables, at each table four knights would eat,And swiftly they spread them over with coverings fair and meet.

The host himself took water, and heavy at heart was he,And Parzival, too, he washed him, for so should the custom be.A silken towel, bright coloured, a count's son would proffer fair,Swift to the guest he gat him, and knelt low before him there.And wherever there stood a table there four squires were ready dightTo serve the four who sat there, and their service they knew aright,For twain would carve, low kneeling, and twain to the knights would bearOf food and drink as needful, and thus for their wants would care.

Now hearken ye greater riches--on wheelèd cars were rolledTo every knight in order, fair vessels of wroughten gold,And four knights set them on the tables, and with each ye a steward might seeTo aid them, and claim the vessels when the feast at an end should be.

Now hearken another marvel--to a hundred squires they spake,And they bade them in fair white napkins the bread from the Grail to take.And straightway they went, and to each knight at each table the bread they bare;As I heard so I tell unto ye, and the truth ye, each one, shall swear,'Twas the Grail Itself that fed them, and before the Grail did standWhat of food or drink desiring, each one might stretch forth his hand.(Would I here betray another then in sooth ye shall lie with me)Food warm or cold, or dishes that known or unknown shall be,Food wild or tame--Such riches ye never on earth shall find,So many have said, yet I think me that folly doth rule their mind--For the Grail was the crown of blessing, the fulness of earth's delight,And Its joys I right well may liken to the glories of Heaven's height!

Then they brought in small golden vessels that which every man should needOf sauces, or salt, or pepper--would one sparely or fully feed,Yet each found enough--and courteous they bare to each noble guest;And red wine and sweet drinks luscious, each one as he liked him bestMight speak the word, and proffer the cup, and behold! 'twas filledBy the power of the Grail--Thus the hunger of that gallant host was stilled,And the Grail Itself sustained them, and Parzival wondering sawThe riches and mighty marvels, yet to question his host forbore.

And he thought, 'Gurnemanz he bade me, in truth, without thought of guile,To withhold my lips from question--If here I abide awhileMethinks it will then befall me as aforetime in Graharz land,They will tell me, without my question, how here with this folk it stands.'Then e'en as he sat thus musing came a squire who a sword did bear,And its sheath was a thousand marks' worth, and its hilt was a ruby rare,And the blade, it might well work wonders--Then the host gave it to the knight,And he spake, 'I full oft have borne it in many a deadly fightEre God's Hand thus sorely smote me; now with this shalt thou be repaidIf aught hath in care been lacking--Henceforth shalt thou bear this bladeWhatever chance befall thee, and when thou its power hast triedThou wilt know thou art fully armèd, whatever strife betide.'

Ah! woe to the guest that asked not, I am sorrowful for his sake,When his hand clasped the sword 'twas a token that his silence he well might break.For the host too my heart is heavy, thus tortured by nameless woe,And a question therefrom had freed him, yet to question his guest was slow.

But now the feast was ended, who the vessels hither boreAgain to their task they turn them, and they bear them forth once more.The cars again they circle; each maid to her task was fainFrom last to first; the noblest she turned to the Grail again,To host and guest all-courteous the queen and her maidens bend,What they brought they once more would bear forth thro' the door at the high hall's end.

And Parzival he gazed after, and lo! thro' the open doorWithin an outer chamber, on a folding couch he sawThe fairest of old men ancient whom ever his eyes had seen,Grey was he as mists of morning--Nor o'er rash is the tale, I ween,Who he was shalt thou know hereafter, when a fitting time shall be,The host, his Burg, and his kingdom, yea, all will I name to ye,And all shall be clear and in order, no halting my tale shall know;Methinks that I then shall show ye the bowstring without the bow.

'Tis a symbol good, the bowstring, for swift as ye deem the bow,Yet the shaft that the bowstring speedeth findeth swifter its aim, I trow!And not without thought I said it, for the string, it seemeth me,Is like to the simple story wherewith men well-pleased shall be;For it goeth straight to its ending, while he who aside shall stray,Tho' his goal at last he reacheth findeth all too long his way.When unbent the bow thou sawest, then straight was, I ween, the string,From the straight line thou erst must draw it, ere the shaft to its goal may wing.But he who his story aimeth at the ear of a fool shall findHis shaft go astray, for no dwelling it findeth within his mind.Too wide is the road, I think me, and that which he chance to hearEre yet he may know the meaning flies out at the other ear.Far rather at home I 'ld bide me than in such ears my story tell,A beast, or a stock, I think me, as a hearer would serve as well.

But further I fain would tell ye of this people so full of woeTo whom he had come, our hero, glad song might they seldom know,Or sound of dance or of Tourney; so heavy were they at heartThat never a thought of gladness might find in their life a part,And oft shall the folk be fewer yet of joy shall have fuller share,But here every nook was crowded, nor space in the court to spare.

The host to his guest spake kindly, 'Methinks they thy couch have spread,Art thou weary? then list my counsel, and get thee, my guest, to bed.'(Now here might I raise my war-cry at the parting betwixt the twain,For I wot well that bitter sorrow each must from the venture gain.)

To the side of his host he stepped him, Parzival the fair of face,And the Fisher a fair night wished him--Then the knights stepped each from his place,And a part drew near towards him, and they led the stranger guestStraightway to a sleeping chamber, and goodly should be his rest.'Twas richly decked for his honour, and the couch it was spread so fairThat my poverty sorely grieves me since the earth doth such riches bear.

And that bed knew, I ween, no lacking, and a rich silk above it lay,Bright-coloured its hue, and glowing as tho' fire-light did on it play;Then Parzival prayed the heroes to get them again to rest,For he saw there but one couch only, and they passed hence at his behest.

But he lacked not for other service--His fair face and tapers lightGave challenge unto each other--What day e'er might shine so bright?And before his couch was another, thereon would he take his seatWhile pages drew them nearer, and proffered him service meet.And they bared his white feet comely, and they laid his robes aside,And of noble birth were these children, and fair in their youthful pride.Then there passed thro' the open doorway four maidens fair and bright,They would know if they well had served him, and if soft lay the stranger knight.And so the venture telleth, a squire a taper bareBefore each gentle maiden--Parzival, that hero fair,Sprang swift to his couch; then the maidens with gentle voice they spake,'Sir Knight, we fain would pray thee for our sake awhile to wake'--Yet as children sport with each other had he hidden him from their sightEre yet they might hear his greeting, yet their eyes had found swift delight,And their heart's desire was quickened at the sight of his red lips' glowThat for youth were as yet unhidden, for no hair did upon them grow.

Now hear what they bare, these maidens, three in their hands so whiteBrought syrups sweet, and red wine, and the fourth, that maiden bright,Bare fruit that e'erwhile had ripened in the garden of ParadiseOn a cloth fair and white, and she knelt low before him that maiden wise,And he bade her sit, but she answered, 'Nay, Sir Knight, so is it bestFor else were I sure unworthy to serve such a gallant guest.'Then he drank and would eat a little, and he spake to them soft and sweet,And he laid him adown, and the maidens craved leave of him as was meet.Then down on the costly carpet the squires set the tapers brightWhen they saw that he slept, and swiftly they gat from the gallant knight.

Yet Parzival lay not lonely, for until the dawn of dayHeart-sorrow would lie beside him, nor passed with the dawn away.And every coming anguish its heralds before would speed,E'en so that the fair youth's vision out-weighed e'en his mother's needWhen she dreamed ere the death of her husband. As a carpet unrolled his dream,The centre of fair jousts woven, while the edge was with swords agleam.And in slumber his foemen pressed him, and would swiftly upon him ride;So fearful his dream that, wakened, thirty times had he rather died.Thus fear and unrest awoke him, and the sweat streamed from every limb;The daylight shone fair thro' the windows, yet no voice had called on him.Then he spake, 'Where are now the pages, who stood before me of late?Who shall hand unto me my garments?' Then awhile would he patient waitTill slumber again o'ercame him; none spake, none aloud would cry,Vanished the folk--When he wakened the noon-tide sun was high.

Then he sprang up, and lo! before him on the carpet his harness lay,And two swords, his host's gift, and the other from Prince Ither he bare away.Then he spake to himself, 'Now wherefore was this done? I these arms will take,In sleep I such anguish suffered, methinks that I surely wakeTo-day to some task of knighthood--If mine host doth some foeman fearThen his will will I do right gladly, and faithful her prayer will hearWho of true heart this mantle lent me--If my service she think to takeThen I were for such service joyful; yet not for her sweet love's sake,For my wife hath a face as lovely as ever this castle's queen,Nay more, an the truth be spoken she is fairer far I ween!'

Then he did e'en as seemed him fitting, and he armed himself for fightFrom foot to head, and beside him he girded those swords of might.Then forth went the gallant hero, and his steed to the palace stairWas bound, shield and spear stood by it, and he joyed as he found them there.

Then ere Parzival, the hero, his charger would mount again,He sought thro' many a chamber, and he called on the folk amain,But none might he see or hearken, and it vexed the knight full sore,And wrathful he grew--Yet seeking, the hero he came once moreTo where he at eve dismounted when first he the castle found,And the earth and grass were trampled, and the dew brushed from off the ground.

Then, shouting, he turned, the young knight, once more to his charger good,And with bitter words he mounted--Wide open the gateway stood,And the track led across the threshold; nor longer he thought to stayBut he turned his rein, and swiftly to the drawbridge he made his way,But a hidden hand drew the rope taut, and the forepart it rose on highAnd well-nigh had his charger fallen, then he turned him right speedilyFor fain would he ask the meaning, but the squire cried aloud in scorn,'Goose that thou art, ride onward, to the sun's hate hast thou been born!Thy mouth hadst thou thought to open, of these wonders hadst asked thine host,Great fame had been thine--But I tell thee now hast thou this fair chance lost!'

Then the guest cried aloud for his meaning, but answer he ne'er might win,For the squire made as if he slumbered, and the portal he barred within.Too early for peace his parting, and the hour it hath brought him woe,And he payeth in joy the tribute, nor longer may gladness know;And doubled the throw of sorrow since here he had found the Grail,With his eyes, not his hand, had he cast it, and dice to the throw should fail.If by grief he be now awakened such was never his wont of yore,For naught had he known but gladness, nor sorrow of heart he bore.

On the track that he saw before him would Parzival ride apace,And he thought, 'They who go before me to-day will a foeman faceAnd fight for their master's honour; an they knew it, their ring of mightMethinks would be little weakened if I in their ranks should fight!I would waver not, but would aid them whate'er be their need to-day,Thus my bread would I earn, and this fair sword, the gift of my host, repay,Undeserved as yet do I bear it--Sure they hold me for coward knight!'Then he turned him, the free from falsehood, where the hoof-tracks still met his sight,(And sorely I rue his parting--Now the venture doth grow apace,)They had parted who rode before him, and their track he might scarcely trace,What aforetime was broad waxed narrow till he lost it nor found it moreAnd tidings he heard, the hero, that wrought to him sorrow sore.

For the young knight, rich in courage, heard a woman's voice make moan.(On the grass lay the dew of morning.) On a linden there sat aloneA maiden, whose truth wrought her sorrow, for between her arms so whiteEmbalmed did she lifeless hold him who living had been her knight.Were there one who saw her sorrow and mourned not for her bitter woeThen false of heart must I hold him, one who true love might never know!Then he turned his steed towards her, tho' as yet unknown was she,(Tho' the child of his mother's sister)--As the wind that fleeteth freeIs all earthly faith to her true love--Then Parzival greeting spake,'Lady, methinks that sorrow I must bear for thy sorrow's sake,An thou needst in aught my service, would it free thee from further ill,Then look thou on me as thy servant, thy grief were I fain to still!'

Then sadly her thanks she bade him, and asked him, 'Whence camest thou here?He were ill-advised who his journey should take thro' this woodland drear.To them who know not its pathways great evil might here betide.Yea, oft have I seen and hearkened how men in this wood have died,For death was in strife their portion--Turn hence then, thou gallant knight,An thou lovest life--Yet tell me in what shelter didst pass the night?''But a mile from here stands a castle, there I thro' the night abode,And naught have I seen like its riches, from thence in short space I rode.'Then the maiden she looked upon him, and she spake, 'Now, methinks, 'twere illWith falsehood to thus betray them who trust thee with right goodwill.From thy shield art thou here a stranger, and canst naught but woods have found,An here thou hast ta'en thy journey from planted and builded ground,For thirty miles round have they never, for a dwelling, hewn wood or stone,Save but for one Burg, in this region that Burg it doth stand alone.'Tis rich in all earthly riches, yet he who that castle fairWould seek, he may never find it, tho' many that quest shall dare.Unawares must they chance upon it, for I wot in no other wiseShall that Burg and all that it holdeth be looked on by mortal eyes.Sir Knight, thou hast never seen it; Monsalväsch I ween its name,Terre de Salväsch the kingdom where its lord the crown may claim,And Titurel once bequeathed it to his son King Frimutel,So they called him, the dauntless hero; much fame to his portion fell,In a joust was he slain at Love's bidding, and four children fair he left,And three, they have store of riches, yet are they of joy bereft.And poor is the fourth, for penance hath he chosen this lot I trow,Trevrezent is his name--Anfortas, his brother, hath grief enow,He can neither stand, nor be seated, nor walk, but must aye recline,At Monsalväsch he hath his dwelling, the head of that noble line.'Then she spake, 'If indeed thou camest to that folk who so sore doth mournThen perchance is their king releasèd from the burden he long hath borne?'Out spake the Waleis, 'I saw truly great marvels, and many a maidOf beauty rare'--she knew him by his voice ere the words were said.

And she quoth, 'Now indeed I know thee, for in sooth art thou Parzival!Didst thou see the mournful monarch? Didst thou see the wondrous Grail?Ah! tell me the joyful tidings, may his woe at last be stilled?Well is thee that the blessèd journey thou hast ta'en, now shall earth be filled,As far as the winds of heaven may blow, with thy fair renown;Naught on earth but shall do thee service, fulfilment each wish shall crown!'

Then Parzival spake in wonder, 'Say, Lady, whence knowest thou me?'And she answered, 'I am that maiden who erewhile made her plaint to thee,I am she who thy name first told thee, near of kin to that gracious queenThy mother, of all earth's blossoms the fairest flower, I ween,Tho' a flower that the dew ne'er nourished! May God reward thee wellWho didst truly mourn my hero who in knightly combat fell.See, here in my arms I hold him, now think thou upon the woeGod hath laid for his sake upon me who too short a life must know;Rich was he in all manly virtues, his death it has wrought me pain,And day by day as it dawneth reneweth my plaint again!

'Alas! is it thou, Siguné? Say, where are thy lips so redThat gave me to wit so truly who I was? From thy youthful headHave thy locks so brown and waving been shorn since I saw thee last;Then wert thou still fair to look on, tho' sorrow might hold thee fast,Now pale art thou waxed and feeble, such friendship, methinks with woeHad vexed me too much, hear my counsel, and bury this dead knight low!'

Great tears bedewed her garments, for ne'er to that maiden fairHad any given such counsel as Lunete to her lady bare.(This rede did she give to her lady, 'Let him live who thy lord hath slain,Thou shalt in his love hereafter amends for thy sorrow gain.')Not such was the will of Siguné, as maidens of wavering mind,(On their names I had best keep silence) here the tale of true love ye'll find.Then she spake, 'If joy e'er befall me that shall be when I know reliefIs his, who so long hath suffered, when is lightened his load of grief.If thro' thee he hath found this succour then in truth shall all praise be thine;Methinketh e'en now at thy girdle do I see his sword to shine--If its magic spell thou knowest then to strife mayest thou fearless fare,For its edge is keen--Its maker a noble name doth bear,Trebuchet's hand hath wrought it; by Karnant there flows a spring,And 'Lac' from the name of that streamlet methinks is he named, the king.The sword will withstand the first blow, at the next it will break in twain,An thou to these waters bring it from their flow 'twill be whole again.Yet where at its source the streamlet flows forth from its rocky bed,Shalt thou seek those healing waters ere the sun stand high overhead.Lac is the name of that fountain--If unsplintered shall be the bladeThen press thou its halves together, from the waters shall it be made,Not whole alone, but stronger the blade and the edge shall grow,Nor their brightness and fair adorning be dimmed by the water's flow.Yet a spell thou first must master, ere thou draw that sword of might,Thou hast left it behind, I fear me! Hast thou learnt its words aright,Then in truth all earthly blessings shall blossom and bear for thee--Believe me, dear my cousin, what of marvels thou there couldst see,To thine hand shall they all do service; the crown of blessings fairUplifted o'er all earth's noblest henceforward thine head shall bear.And thine is desire's fulfilment, and none with thy wealth and mightMay measure himself, if the question hath won at thy lips its right!'

Then he quoth, 'Nay, I asked no question!' 'Alas I' cried the mournful maid,'That ever mine eyes have seen thee, who to question wast sore afraid!Such marvels they there have shown thee, yet no word might they win from thee,When thou sawest the Grail, and those maidens who serve It, from falsehood free,Fair Garschiloie, and yet fairer Repanse de Schoie the queen.Thou hast seen the knives of silver, thou the bleeding spear hast seen--Alas! wherefore hast thou sought me? Dishonoured, accurst art thouWho bearest wolf's fang empoisoned! And deep in thine heart I trowIs it rooted, the plant of falsehood, and afresh doth it ever spring!Thou shouldst have had pity on him, Anfortas, their host and king,And have asked of his bitter sorrow, on whom God hath a wonder sped,Now thou livest, and yet I tell thee to bliss art thou henceforth dead!'

Then he spake, 'Nay, gentle cousin, show kindness to me I pray,If in aught I have sinned, repentance my sin sure shall put away!''Little good may repentance do thee,' quoth the maiden, 'for well I knowThat thy knightly fame and honour at Monsalväsch were laid alow.And never a further answer or word shalt thou win from me.'Then Parzival turned his bridle and left her right mournfully.

That his lips were so slow to question when he sat by the mournful king,To the heart of the gallant hero must sorrow and rueing bring;And thus thro' his heavy trouble, and the heat of the summer's day,Great sweat-drops stood on his forehead as he rode on his lonely way.For the sake of the air he loosened his helmet and visor band,And his face shone fair thro' the iron-rust as he carried them in his hand.

Then he saw a fresh track, and before him short space did two horses fare,A war-horse was one, well harnessed, but unshod was, I ween, the mare,And it bare on its back a woman--Behind her he took his way,And he looked on her steed, to hunger o'er-long had it been a prey;Thro' its skin might its ribs be counted, a halter of hemp its rein,Its colour was white as an ermine, to the hoofs hung the untrimmed mane;The eyeballs were sunk in the sockets, the hollows were deep and wide,And I ween that this lady's palfrey by famine had oft been tried.'Twas lean and dry as touchwood, 'twas a marvel it yet could go,For little should she who rode it of the care of a charger know.

Narrow and poor the trappings that lay on that charger's back,The saddle and bells were shattered, and much did the harness lack;And the lady was sad, not joyful, and her girth was a hempen cord,Yet, I ween, was her birth too noble in such guise to ride abroad.By twigs and thorny branches tattered her shift and torn,And the rags had she knit together where'er it had been out-worn,But beneath her skin gleamed spotless, white as the swan's white wing;And naught but rags was her clothing--where they might some shelter bringThere her skin was fair to look on, but elsewhere 'twas by sunburn dyed.Yet her lips were red, tho' sorrow and want she must long abide,And so glowing and bright their colour a fire had ye kindled there,And where-e'er one would ride beside her on that side had ye found her bare.Yet of base degree to hold her were to do her a wrong, I ween,Tho' little had she upon her, yet guiltless she aye had been--(Of your courtesy shall ye heed me, she forgot not her womanhood)Of her poverty have I told ye, yet wherefore? If ye deem goodThen this will I say, that ragged and bare I this dame would takeO'er many a well-clad maiden, were it fitting my choice to make.

As Parzival bade her greeting, she saw him, and red she grew,Of all men was he the fairest, small marvel his face she knew.Then she quoth, 'Once before have I seen thee, great grief have I won thro' thee:God grant to thee greater honour than thou hast deserved from me!Far other hath been my raiment when thou sawest me last, I wot,Hadst thou ne'er in that hour come near me then honour were still my lot!'

Then he spake, 'Now bethink thee, Lady, who thus should thy hatred claim,For never my hand, I think me, hath brought to a woman shame,(So had I myself dishonoured) since ever I bare a shield,Or thought upon deeds of knighthood, or hath striven in battle-field;Yet else am I sad for thy sorrow!' Then forth brake the tear-drops bright,And ran fast adown her bosom, and over her breasts so white,So fair, and so softly moulded, that never might turner's skill,Tho' swiftly he wrought and rounded, his task in such wise fulfil.And so lovely was she in her sorrow his heart was to pity fain,And with hands and arms a cover from his glance did she strive to gain.

Then Parzival spake, 'Now, Lady, of true service from mocking free,In God's Name take thou here my surcoat, a covering 'twill be for thee.''Nay, Sir Knight, I may never take it, e'en tho' bliss I thereby should gain,Ride swift on thy way, I pray thee, an thou wouldst not we both were slain;Tho' my death it would little grieve me, if I fear me, 'tis for thy sake!''Say, Lady, who thus would wrong us? Who thinketh our life to take?'Twas God's hand that gave it to us--Nay, were they an armèd hostWho here for our life were thirsting, I would face them nor fear the cost!'

Then she spake, ''Tis a dauntless hero, so gallant in strife is heThat heavy would be their labour if six should his foemen be;(I would thou wert not beside me) I aforetime his wife had been,Yet so poor am I now and wretched, for his slave were I all too mean,Thus his wrath doth he wreak upon me.' To that lady he spake again,'Say, who rideth here with thy husband? For if I to fly were fain,As here thou dost give me counsel, thyself sure wouldst deem it ill,Ere of flight I have learnt the lesson I would die with a right good will!'

Then out spake the Duchess sadly, 'Alone with my lord I fare,But yet that may little serve thee, nor shall victory be here thy share.'And in rags was all her vesture, and naught but the hem untorn,Yet the crown of woman's honour in her poverty had she worn,And her ways were ways of goodness, and falsehood afar had fled--Then he bound afresh his visor and the helmet upon his headAs one who to battle rideth--Then his charger aloft would rear,It was 'ware of the steed beside it, and its neigh rang out loud and clear;And he who a space before them on the woodland way would ride,He hearkened the sound, and would see him who rode there by his lady's side.Then he turned his bridle wrathful by the side of the narrow way,And with lance in rest for jousting Duke Orilus rode that day,And manly, I ween, his bearing, from Gaheviess came his spear,And weapon alike and harness of one colour were blazoned clear.

His helmet, Trebuchet wrought it; the shield in distant SpainWas welded fair for the hero, King Kailet in that land doth reign,And strong were the rim and the centre--In Alexandria's city fairWas the costly pfellel woven that for surcoat and coat he ware.The covering of his charger at Tenabroc was it madeOf rings of steel close welded--And thus he his pride displayed,For over the iron cover lay a pfellel so fair to see,And all men who saw bare witness that costly its worth must be--And gorget, and greaves, and headgear, tho' rich, yet their weight was light,And many a plate of iron it guarded this gallant knight;In Beàlzenan was it fashioned, chief city of fair Anjou.(But she who rode bare behind him far other her garb to view,For in sooth might she find none better) from Soissons his breastplate came,But he won his gallant charger from the far-off lake Brimbane,In the mountains of Monsalväsch--Lähelein, his brother bold,In a joust o'erthrew the rider, and the steed as his prize would hold.

And Parzival too was ready--his charger in onward flight'Gainst Orilus of Lalande bare swiftly the gallant knight;And he saw on his shield a dragon, yea, e'en as it were alive,And another upon the helmet fast bounden did upward strive.And many small golden dragons on surcoat and robe he bare,Enriched with many a jewel, and with red eyes of ruby fair.From afar would they make their onslaught, these dauntless heroes twain,No need to renounce their friendship, nor thro' kinship from strife refrain,Aloft flew the spears in splinters--Methinks I might vaunt me wellIf I such a joust had witnessed as here in this wood befell!

Thus they rode at swiftest gallop not one joust alone, I ween,And Jeschuté at heart bare witness fairer jousting she ne'er had seen;So she stood, and her hands she wrung them, this lady of joy bereft,Nor harm did she wish to either, that one should be lifeless left.In sweat were they bathed, the chargers, and the knights they strove for fame,And sparks sprang bright from the sword-blades, and forth from the helm flashed flame,And the blows fell fierce and mighty, and far flashed the light of strife,None were better than they in battle, and they met here for death or life,And tho' willing and swift the chargers that the heroes would here bestride,They forgot not their spurs, and their sword-blades bright-glancing they deftly plied.And Parzival won him honour, for here hath he rightly shownHow before a hundred dragons one man well might hold his own.

And ill did it fare with one dragon, and sore were its wounds that day,'Twas the crest that aloft in glory on Orilus' helmet lay,And so clear that the light shone thro' them were the costly jewels brightThat fell when the helm was smitten by Parzival's sword of might;'Twas on horse, not afoot, that they fought thus--The love of her angry lordWas won back again for Jeschuté by the play of the glittering sword.Then they dashed again on each other so close that they smote away,With their knees, the rings of iron--So valiant in strife were they!I will tell ye why one was wrathful; that his lady of royal raceEre this had been shamed; her guardian, from him might she look for grace;Yet he deemed that with wandering fancy her heart from her lord had strayed,And that she, in the love of another, her honour had lowly laid.And he would for such wrong have vengeance, and his judgment on her was doneIn such wise, save were death her portion no woman such woe had won,And yet she in naught had wronged him--If his favour he would withhold,What man e'er might think to hinder? For ever from days of oldThe man hath power o'er the woman, the husband shall rule the wife.Yet Parzival the hero, he thought him to win with strifeFor Jeschuté her husband's favour--Methinks one should pray such graceIn courteous wise, but flattery it here found but little place.And both they were right, I think me--He who ruleth the ways of life,Or straight they may be or crooked, 'twas His so to rule their strifeThat never to one nor the other the joust death for guerdon brought,Harm enow had they done to each other the while they so fiercely fought.

Now hotter it waxed, the conflict, each hero would fain defendHis knightly fame 'gainst the other; Duke Orilus of Lalande,He fought with the skill and cunning his hand had learnt of yore,For I ween none like him had battled--he had courage and strength in war,And therefore had he been victor on many a foughten field,Tho' other were here the ending--His foe would he force to yield;And he threw his arms around him, the hero so proud and bold,But Parzival, little daunted, on his foeman made good his hold,And he drew him from off his saddle; as a sheaf from the field ye reapSo beneath his arm he swung him, and light from his horse did leap.O'er a fallen tree he held him, for here was he overthrownWho never of need or peril such fortune before had known.'Now do penance for this thine anger that hath wrought to thy lady woe,An thy favour be yet withholden, then death shalt thou surely know!''Nay, nay, not so swift,' quoth his foeman, Duke Orilus of Lalande,'Tho' o'erthrown, I am not so vanquished that I may not thy will withstand!'

Then Parzival, strong and valiant, his foeman he gripped amain,And forth thro' the visor gushing streamed the blood in a crimson rain,And the prince, I ween, was vanquished, he could win from him what he would,To die was he all unwilling, and he spake to the hero good,'Alas! thou bold knight dauntless, who evil on me hath sped,Say how have I earned this peril, to lie here before thee, dead?'

Then Parzival quoth, 'Right gladly, Sir Knight, will I let thee live,If favour and love to thy lady thou swearest again to give!''That I will not! Her sin against me I trow all too great shall be.Rich in honour she was; she hath injured herself, and she plungeth me,Her lord, in yet deeper sorrow. In all else thy will I'll heed,An thou thinkest my life to leave me--'Twas God gave it me indeed,Now thine hand is become His servant, to give it to me anew,And I to thy valour owe it'--In this wise spake the hero true:

'For my life will I give fair ransom, for kingdoms twain, I trow,My brother with might hath won him, of riches he hath enow.Thou shalt ask as it best may please thee: if from death thou wilt set me free,He loveth me, and will loose me whatever the cost may be.And my Dukedom again as thy vassal will I take from thy valiant hand,Thy fame it shall gain new lustre, since I might not thy power withstand.Now release me, thou hero dauntless, from forgiveness of her, my wife;Whatever shall be for thine honour, by that will I buy my life,But with her, my dishonoured Duchess, at peace will I never be,Nay, not for all pain or sorrow that shall otherwise fall to me!'

Quoth Parzival, 'Folk or kingdoms, or riches or jewels rare,All these they shall nothing profit--Thy pledge thou to me shalt swearIn naught to delay thy journey, but to haste thee to BrittanyWhere dwelleth a gentle maiden--One hath smitten her sore for me,And I will on that man have vengeance, an his safety she shall not pray--Thy pledge and my loyal service bear thou to that maid straightway,Or here, without fail, I slay thee--To King Arthur and to his queen,To both shalt thou bear my greeting; well paid hath my service been,If they for that blow ill-smitten the maiden do well entreat.But first will I see that thou givest to this lady thine homage meet,And that without guile--Dost withstand me, and thinkest my will to dare,On a bier, and no more on a charger, from hence shalt thou lifeless fare!Now mark thou my words, for their doing a pledge shalt thou straightway give,And thy surety swear unto me, if longer thou fain wouldst live!'To King Parzival spake his foeman, Duke Orilus, 'Helpeth naught'Gainst this thy will, I will do it, for fain I my life had bought!'

In the fear for the life of her husband Jeschuté, that lady fair,Mourned sore for his woe, yet the foemen to part might she little dare.Then Parzival bade him rise up, and speak to his lady brightThe words of peace and of pardon; and thus quoth the vanquished knight,'Lady, since this my shaming in strife hath been for thy sake,So be it, the kiss of forgiveness from my lips shalt thou herewith take.Thro' thee have I lost much honour--What boots it? I pardon sware!'Then swift from her steed on the meadow sprang the lady with white limbs bare,Tho' the blood that ran from his nostrils had dyed his mouth with red,Yet she kissed him e'en as he bade her, so was Parzival's bidding sped.

Then the three rode on together till a hermit's cell they sawIn the rocky wall, and our hero his bridle was fain to draw;For he saw there a shrine so holy, and a spear with fair colours blentStood beside the shrine; 'twas the dwelling of the hermit Trevrezent.

There Parzival dealt with honour--On the relic an oath he sware,Himself laid the oath upon him, and he spake and they hearkened fair;'If I have worth or valour, as 'seemeth a gallant knight--If I have it or not let those witness who have looked on my shield in fight;Yea, let them approve my knighthood, for knighthood's power may claim,As the shield-bearer oft shall tell us, high guerdon of praise and fame,And the name of knight is honoured--My body to shame for ayeWill I give, and my fame and honour henceforth shall be put away;(With these words I my bliss would pledge here in the Hand that shall highest be,And that Hand is God's Hand, I think me)--All loss, bitter mockery,In this life and the next be my portion from His power, if this lady fairE'er did thee wrong when it chanced her that the clasp from her robe I tare--(Of a token of gold I robbed her)--A fool and no man was I,Not yet had I waxed to wisdom--And sore did she weep thereby,And anguish and grief she suffered; yea, guiltless was she that day--And forfeit my bliss and mine honour if the words be not truth I say!Now see, dost thou hold her guiltless thou shalt give her her ring again,From the clasp I in such wise parted that my folly must bear the blame!'

Then the Duke took the ring, and the blood-stains he wiped from his lips away,And he kissed her, his heart's best treasure--And a covering she won straightway;The ring he placed on her finger, with his surcoat her shame would hide,Tho' hewn by the hand of hero, of rich silk was it fashioned wide.But seldom in coat emblazoned mine eyes have a woman seen,And this one was marred in combat. No war-cry was hers, I ween,That should summon the knights to Tourney, and never a spear she brakeWhatever her garb--In Tourney far better the part they'ld take,Lambekein, methinks, and the good squire, if together they thought to fight--But now was the lady pardoned, and her sorrow had taken flight.

Quoth Orilus, 'Now, thou hero, the oath thou didst freely swear,Great joy and small grief hath brought me; tho' shaming I needs must bear,Yet gladness therefrom I win me--In all honour I will repayThis lady true for her sorrow when I put her in shame away.And since all alone I left her she was guiltless did aught betide;Yet so did she speak of thy beauty, methought there was more beside.But now may God reward thee, thou hast shown her from falsehood free,I have done her a wrong--Thro' the young wood have I ridden in search of theeAfar from Briziljan's forest.' Then Parzival took the spear,Wild Taurian, Dodine's brother, erewhile had he left it here.Now say where the heroes rested, or how they would pass the night--Helmet and shield had suffered, they were shattered and hewn in fight.Then Parzival to the lady, and her husband, a farewell bade;The Duke to his hearth would bid him, 'twas in vain howsoe'er he prayed.

So here, as the venture telleth, they parted, those heroes twain,And the Prince Orilus he sought him his pavilion and folk again.And glad were his faithful people with one mind when at last they sawTheir lord and his gracious lady dwell in peace and in love once more.Nor longer was there delaying, the Duke he aside would layHis arms, and the rust and blood-stains from his face did he wash away;By her hand he led the Duchess where atonement he fain would make,Weeping she lay beside him for joy, not for sorrow's sake.For such is the way of women, know ye not the saying well?'Tearful eyes make sweet lips,' of such lore methinks I yet more might tell!For Love knoweth joy as sorrow, and he who the twain would weighIn a balance shall find them equal an he testeth the scales alway!

At peace were they now, full surely, forthwith to the bath they went,Twelve fair maidens they waited on her, with them had she shared her tent,They had tended her since, all guiltless, the wrath of her love she bare;(At night might she lie well covered, tho' by day she ill-clad must fare)And joyful they bathed their lady--But now are ye fain to hearHow Orilus won him tidings that King Arthur would now draw near.

For thus spake a knight to his master, 'On a grassy plain I sawIn fair and knightly order a thousand tents, yea, more,For Arthur the noble monarch, the King of the Breton's landWith a wondrous fair host of maidens his court holdeth nigh at hand;Methinks scarce a mile are they distant, nor shout of knights shall fail,On either side Plimizöl's waters their camp lies adown the vale.'

Then the Duke in haste and gladness forth from his bath he stept--Would ye know how she fared, Jeschuté? No longer the lady wept,But she went, the fair and gentle, from her bath to her couch straightway,And far fairer, I ween, her garments than she ware for many a day.And closely they clung together, the prince and the princess wise,And Love came to the aid of gladness, and joy here hath won the prize.Then the maidens they clad their lady, but the knights their lord's armour brought,And much had ye praised the vesture of Jeschuté, 'twas fairly wroughtAnd birds caught in snares they brought them, on their couch did they sit the twain,And joyful they ate; many kisses from her lord did Jeschuté gain!

Then they brought to the lovely lady a palfrey, so strong and fair,'Twas bridled, and richly saddled, and a lady right well might bear,And they lifted her to the saddle, with her brave lord she hence would ride;But his charger was armed, as for battle the knight would his steed bestride,And the sword he that morn had wielded hung the saddle-bow before.Then from foot to head well armèd he came forth to his steed once more,And there, where his lady waited, to the saddle he sprung, the knight,He would ride forth without delaying, with Jeschuté his lady bright.But his folk should fare back to Lalande, save one knight who should show the wayTo the camp and the court of King Arthur, so he counselled his folk that day.

Soon came they anear King Arthur, and his tents they right well espied,For the space of a mile they stretched them adown by the water's side.The knight who had led him hither he bade to his folk repair,No comrade he'ld have save Jeschuté, his lady so true and fair.And Arthur, the brave and humble, he sat where at eve he'ld eat,On a plain with his vassals round him, in order due and meet.Duke Orilus rode to their circle, and none might his blazon know,So hewn were both shield and helmet--'twas Parzival dealt such blow!

From his horse sprang the gallant hero, Jeschuté she held his rein;Swift sprang the squires to aid them, and thronged close around the twain,And they spake, 'We will care for the horses,'--Orilus, on the grass he laidHis shield so marred and splintered, and he asked of the gracious maidFor whose sake he had ridden thither, and they showed him the lady's seat,Kunnewaaré she was of Lalande, and her mien for a maid was meet.

Then, armed, he drew near unto them--King and queen bade him welcome fair,He thanked them, and to his sister his pledge was he fain to swear,But the maiden, right well she knew him by the golden dragon's shine,And she spake, 'Thou art sure my brother, Orilus, or Lähelein,And pledge will I take from neither, for both of ye aye were fainTo render to me such service as I from your hands would gain.I were dead to all truth and honour if I dealt with thee as a foe,My courtesy sure were shamèd by my own hand, and laid alow.'

Then the prince knelt before the maiden and he spake, 'Thou the truth hath said,I am Orilus thy brother; the Red Knight this oath hath laidOn me that my pledge I yield thee, for so must I buy my life,Wilt thou take it, then have I done that which I sware after bitter strife.'Then his pledge, who had borne the dragon, in her white hand the maid must take,And she set him free, and he rose up, and thus to his sister spake:

'Now to sorrow shall faith constrain me, alas! who hath smitten thee?The blows perforce must wound me--He who lusted thereto might see,If this were the hour for vengeance, that grief I with thee must share;And the bravest of men mourneth with me that ever a woman bare,He calleth himself the Red Knight--O king! he doth bid me greetBoth thee and the queen thy lady, he doth offer ye service meet,As he fain would serve this my sister--His service ye will repay,If ye kindly entreat this maiden that her shaming be put away.And I, too, had fared far better at the hand of this dauntless knight,Had he known the maid for my sister, and her blows on my heart must light.'

Now Kay, he hath earned fresh hatred from all who would there abide,Both knights and gentle ladies, by Plimizöl's flowing tide,From Iofreit the son of Idöl, from Gawain, and the vanquished kingKlamidé, of whose sore peril I of yore unto ye would sing.And from many another hero whose names I right well had told,But o'er-long would it be my story--So they thronged round the hero bold,And, courteous, he took their service--his wife would they nearer bring,She sat as yet on her palfrey, and they welcomed her, queen and king.

Then the women they kissed each other, and thus spake the king so true,'Thy father, King Lac of Karnant, for a gallant man I knew,For his sake I mourned thy sorrow when first men the tale did bear,Methinks that thy lord should have spared thee for the sake of thy face so fair!For the prize was thine at Kanedig thro' the light of thy beauty's ray,And the hawk didst thou win for thy fairness, on thine hand did it ride away.If Orilus wrong hath done me, yet I wished unto thee no ill,And never I liked his judgment; and so doth it please me stillTo see thee restored to favour, and clad in these garments fair,As fitting thy state, O Lady! since woe thou o'er-long didst bear.'And she quoth, 'Now may God reward thee, O Sire! for these words so true,That thy fame may wax the higher, and may blossom and bloom anew!'

Then Jeschuté and her husband, the twain, she took by the hand,And forth from the circle led them, the maiden of fair Lalande.And near to the royal pavilion, where a stream from the meadow sprung,Stood her tent on the plain, and above it a wingèd dragon hung;Half an apple it held in its clutches, and four ropes did it draw on high,E'en as if the tent it lifted, and aloft to the clouds would fly.And Orilus thereby knew it, for the self-same arms he bare,And beneath it would they disarm him--Then his sister so true and fair,She gave him due care and honour, and the vassals, each one they spake,How the Red Knight's valour dauntless would Fame for its comrade take.

As thus aloud men praised him, in Kingron's ear spake Kay,And he bade him do Orilus service--(Well he might, whom he thus did pray,For oft had he done such service for Klamidé in Brandigan.)And for this Kay would give his office to the hand of another man,His ill-star had bid him smite her, the prince's sister fair,So hard with his staff, 'twas fitting from their service he should forbear.Nor pardon she found for his trespass, this maiden of royal race;But viands he sent, and Kingron, he set them before their face.

Kunnewaaré, the wise and gentle, with her slender hands and white,Would cut the food for her brother, at his side sat his lady bright.And Jeschuté of Karnant bare her with courteous and comely mien,And Arthur the King forgat not, for fain he the twain had seen,And he came where they sat together, and ate with right friendly will,And he spake, 'Be good service lacking, then for sure it shall please me ill,For ne'er hath a host received ye, I trow, with a will so good,And a heart so free from falsehood!' And he spake in kindly mood,'My Lady Kunnewaaré, see thou well to this gallant knight,And the blessing of God be on ye, and keep ye till morning light!'Then Arthur to rest betook him, and a couch for the twain they spread,And till daylight in peace they slumbered, and sorrow afar had fled.