Book IX · TREVREZENT, part 1 of 16
¶ARGUMENT
¶Book IX. In the opening the spirit of adventure craves admission to the heart of the poet, who would fain learn from her tidings of Parzival. The venture telleth how the hero had ridden long in doubt and despair, and knew not the days of his wanderings. How he met again with Siguné and came to the forest of Monsalväsch, where he fought with a Knight of the Grail. How, on Good Friday, Parzival met with a pilgrim knight who reproached him for bearing arms at that Holy Tide, and bade him seek the hermit Trevrezent.
¶How Parzival came to the hermit's cell, and spake of his wrath against God, of his sorrow for his wife, and of his search for the Grail. How Trevrezent told him wherein he had sinned, and showed him the way of salvation.
¶How the hermit farther revealed to him the mysteries of the Grail, of the Bleeding Lance, and the knives of silver; how he told him of the wound of Anfortas, of the race of the Grail Kings, and how Parzival himself was nephew to Anfortas and Trevrezent. How Parzival confessed that it was he who came to the Grail Castle and failed to ask the question; how Trevrezent spake to him words of comfort and counsel, and absolved him from his sin; and how the two parted in sorrow.
¶BOOK IX
¶TREVREZENT
¶'Ope the portal!' 'To whom? Who art thou?' 'In thine heart would I find a place!' 'Nay! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be the space!' 'What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my presence be, Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels I'll tell to thee!' Is it thou, then, O Dame Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival, 5 What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the Grail Hath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens fair That the path of his far wayfarings the knight from their side must bear. So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide to-day? Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray? 10 Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft, Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left? His renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin? Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win. Hath he seen once again Monsalväsch, and Anfortas, the mournful king, 15 Whose heart was with sorrow laden? Of thy pity swift comfort bring, And say if his woe be ended--Speak, speak for we tidings pray Of him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day? Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret's son, And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done? 20 Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe? He hath striven, but rides he ever thro' the wide world nor rest doth know? Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o'er-long at ease? I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please! And this hath the venture told me--He hath ridden many a land, 25 And hath sailèd many a water; and ever, before his hand, Were he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him, he fell, Nor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises tell. And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe must lie, 'Twas outweighed by his fame, and his glory uprose to the stars on high, 30 And all others paled before it--In many a mighty strife With sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his life. And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they paid full dear-- The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear, Sprang asunder onewhile, yet 'twas welded afresh in the mystic spring 35 By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring!
¶Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tell How adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival, (But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,) When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight, 40 And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er the brooklet's wave Then in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave, Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led. But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped, For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth, 45 And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.
¶For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love, Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above. Tho' but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass, All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her days she'ld pass. 50 And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade, And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.
¶Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die, And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly. And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had Lunete braved 55 Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave. And today may we look upon women, who never a willing ear Had turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear. For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone, And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own, 60 But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true, Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new! And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair! And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear. Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide, 65 Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!