Book XIV · GRAMOFLANZ, part 11 of 11

¶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.