Book IX · TREVREZENT, part 3 of 16

¶And she quoth,'From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I forswear, For too much of thy joy lieth forfeit since the question thou didst forbear! 150 And I would not too sorely grieve thee--Alas I that thou didst withhold The word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his griefs had told Who sat there as thine host beside thee--nor thine host alone was he, Anfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to thee! And thy question great bliss had brought thee, and thy silence had wrought thee woe, 155 And thy spirit shall fail, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade thou well shalt know. And yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had sought thy side, Hadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did its host betide!'

¶'Yea, I did there as one who wrongeth himself; yet my cousin dear I prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen near. 160 And tell me, how fares it with thee? I would sorrow for this thy woe Were my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never know!'

¶Then she quoth, 'May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all men's woe, Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall show That shall lead thee once more to Monsalväsch, and thine heart's bliss afresh shall spring. 165 'Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I could tidings bring Of whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg again, Or passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet she draweth rein, Where, from cleft in the high rock riven, the waters flow fresh and clear. It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet anear, 170 And, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.' Then the knight he made no delay But farewell did he bid to the maiden; and he followed the woodland way, And fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the mule must choose Thro' the depths of the dusky thicket that its traces he soon must lose. As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again to-day, 175 And joy and delight fled with It--Yea, had he but found the way, And reached once again Monsalväsch, for better than erst of old Had he known how to ask the question--thus in sooth is the venture told.

¶So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered head, And blazoned coat o'er his shining harness, full swiftly towards him sped! 180 And to Parzival thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, I must deem it ill That thus thro' the woods of my monarch thou takest thy way at will! Begone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself far from here! Monsalväsch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls anear, And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor's fame, 185 Or such penance be thine, as without there, in the open, men Death shall name!' And he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of silken sheen, Sharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new and strong I ween! And wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain should be His threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for joust was he; 190 But many a spear as goodly had splintered 'fore Parzival, And he thought, 'Now, it well had chanced me, that death to my lot should fall If I rode thro' the corn upstanding--then reason had he for wrath, But now hath he none, since I ride here on naught but a woodland path, And I tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not lose its skill 195 I will leave him such pledge for my journey as, I think me, shall please him ill!'

¶Then they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged them with spur and rein, As the bolt from the bow of the archer so swift flew those heroes twain, And the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly fray Unscathed had Parzival ridden, and e'en so should it chance to-day. 200 (Unto skill and the lust of battle must his father's son be heir.) His lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman's helm struck fair, And it smote him where men in jousting their shield are wont to hold, And down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the Templar bold. And the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a rocky dell, 205 Tho' couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered not over well.

¶But the victor's steed sped onward, and in vain would he check its flight Ere it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death the knight. A cedar o'erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast, (Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last, 210 He hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by his own hand) His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand: Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead, Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled. Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival? 215 Far better at home in Monsalväsch had he fared with the wondrous Grail! To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar stood, For down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the war-horse good. As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell, Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well. 220 Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won-- Nor Lähelein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e'er had run! Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gurnemanz). Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance, Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalväsch, yet one grief must vex his soul, 235 He found not the Grail--Ever further he rode, further fled the goal!

¶Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell, Tho' the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir Parzival Had met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before-- One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho' thin was the cloak it bore 230 Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost; As he rode thro' the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway crossed, And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and fair, And his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did bear. And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey, 235 For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way. And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men's eyes are fain to see, In like garments they followed barefoot, e'en as pilgrims are wont to be.