Chapter VI: Book III: Gurnemanz (1)

Is there ever a singer among you, who singeth a sweeter song
Of the favour and love of women, I hold not he does me wrong!
Full fain am I still to hearken to aught that may give them
joy,
But to one alone among women my homage I still deny.
Nay, ever the fire of my anger doth kindle and flame anew, 5
And the sorrow her treason wrought me, it grieveth me still I
trow!
I, whom men have named the singer, I, Wolfram of Eschenbach,
The words that against a woman I spake, I may ne'er take
back.
Nay, I hold fast my wrath for ever, and clasp it closer
still,
As I think how in soul and body alike hath she wrought me
ill! 10
How can I do aught but hate her, till death setteth seal on
life?
Yet it grieveth me sore that others should mingle in this our
strife;

It grieveth me sore that maidens should say, as they name my
name,
'Forsooth he hath shamed all women, let it be unto him for
shame!'
Nay, then, an they reckon for evil the words that in grief I
spake, 15
I will speak them no more for ever, though my heart should in
silence break!
But let them beware in their anger, these warlike maidens
fair,
How they stir from his eyrie the eagle, rouse the lion from
his lair!
Full well I know how to defend me, full well know I what
beseems
The maid of a knight's devotion, the maid of the poet's
dreams! 20
Let a maiden be steadfast-hearted, pure and true in word and
deed,
And her champion true she'll find me, comes there ever an
hour of need.

I hold his renown waxeth slowly, and halteth upon the road,
Who, for wrong at the hand of one woman, shall slander all
womanhood:
But if any will look upon me, and hearken to what I sing, 25
Of a sooth I will not deceive them, though my tale
over-strange may ring.
Born was I unto the bearing of knightly shield and spear,
And though sweet be the song of the singer, I hold it not all
too dear:
I had rather my love should love me for my deeds of high
renown,
Than because in the hall of the Wartburg they should crown me
with music's crown! 30
With the shield and the spear of knighthood will I seek for a
knight's reward,
Nor charm, with the harp of the singer, what I failèd to win
with the sword!

Nor in praise of fair women only runs this tale that I have
to tell,
Full many strange deeds it holdeth, and marvels that once
befell
Ere the course of this wondrous venture be tracèd unto its
end; 35
Yet he who heareth shall reckon, if he fain would account me
friend,
That this is no book he readeth, for no maker of books am I!
But a singer of strange adventures, and of knightly prowess
high:
Stripped bare will I be of all honour, naked and reft of
fame,
Ere I trust my renown unto letters, and give to a book my
name! 40

It vexes me, soul and body, that so many should bear the name
And speak with the tongue of women, who reck not of woman's
fame;
That those who have known no falsehood, and those who are
swift to fall,
Should carry one name in common, be counted as sisters all!
A truth that has faltered never, a faith that has aye
withstood, 45
Is the only glory of woman, the crown of her womanhood!

Many will say, 'What good thing can come out of poverty?'
She who for love endures it, she 'scapeth Hell thereby,
And, in the kingdom of Heaven, receiveth a hundredfold
For all she has borne for love's sake, new joys for her
sorrows old! 50
Not one have I known in my lifetime, I count it a bitter
truth,
Neither a man nor a maiden, who the joy and the pride of
youth,
And all earth's riches and honour, will leave as a worthless
thing
If weighed with the glory of Heaven, and the service of
Heaven's King!
But Queen Herzeleide only, she left her fair estate, 55
In her youth of all joy bereavèd, with sorrow afar to mate.
So holy was she and gentle, so faithful and pure of mind,
That no tongue spake a word against her, and no eye a fault
could find.
Sunlight or shadow, what recked she? the day was to her as
night,
For her heart was the home of sorrow, and dead was the
world's delight. 60
And in sorrow and grief she wandered, till she came to
Soltanè's strand,
A woodland wild and lonely afar from her native land:
Fair flowers might bloom and blossom without, on the sunlit
plain,
And be woven in rosy chaplets, but for her they would bloom
in vain!
And there, mid the woodland shadows, she hid with Gamuret's
son, 65
For she willed that her life's last treasure be revealed unto
none:
So she called her folk around her, (who toiled in the upland
field
With oxen and plough, that the furrows their daily bread
might yield,)
And she charged them all, by the service which she as their
queen might claim,
That they hide from the boy his birthright and the fame of
his father's name. 70
'For the knightly deeds ye vaunt of, and the glory and pride
of war,
Have wrought me but heart's affliction, and trouble and
anguish sore,
So, lest I yet more should suffer, I pray you, my servants
dear,
That ye speak no word of knighthood, lest my son perchance
should hear!'

Then full sore were her people grievèd, for they held it an
evil thing, 75
And a training that ill beseemèd the son of a mighty king.
But his mother kept him hidden in the woodland valleys wild,
Nor thought in her love and sorrow how she wronged the kingly
child:
No knightly weapon she gave him, save such as in childish
play
He wrought himself from the bushes that grew on his lonely
way, 80
A bow and arrows he made him, and with these, in thoughtless
glee,
He shot at the birds as they carolled o'erhead in the leafy
tree.

But when the feathered songster of the woods at his feet lay
dead,
In wonder and dumb amazement he bowed down his golden head,
And in childish wrath and sorrow tore the locks of his sunny
hair; 85
(For I wot well of all earth's children was never a child so
fair
As this boy, who afar in the desert from the haunts of
mankind did dwell,
Who bathed in the mountain streamlet, and roamed o'er the
rock-strewn fell!)
Then he thought him well how the music, which his hand had
for ever stilled,
Had thrilled his soul with its sweetness, and his heart was
with sorrow filled, 90
And the ready tears of childhood flowed forth from their
fountains free
As he ran to his mother weeping, and bowed him beside her
knee.
'What aileth thee child?' quoth the mother, 'but now wast
thou gay and glad'--
But, childlike, he gave no answer, scarce wist he what made
him sad!

But Queen Herzeleide watched him through the sunny summer
days, 95
Till beneath a tree she saw him stand silent, with upturned
gaze,
And a look of joyful rapture in the radiant childish eyes,
As he listed the bird, that, soaring, sang clear thro' the
cloudless skies;
And the mother's heart was troubled, and her wrath waxed to
fever heat,
She would brook in his love no rival--not even God's singers
sweet! 100
So she sent forth in haste her servants, with many a cunning
snare
To capture the singers whose music made joyful the woodlands
fair.
Then, alas! for the birds, who struggled in the cruel snare
in vain,
Yet some few burst their bonds, and joyful, brake forth into
song again!

Then the boy spake,'Now sweet my mother, why trouble the
birds so sore? 105
Forsooth they can ne'er have harmed thee, ah, leave them in
peace once more!'
And his mother kissed him gently, 'Perchance I have wrought a
wrong,
Of a truth, the dear God who made them, He gave unto them
their song,
And I would not that one of his creatures should sorrow
because of me.'
But the boy looked up in wonder, 'God, Mother? Who may God
be?' 110
'My son, He is light beyond all light, brighter than summer's
day,
And He bare a Man's Face, that we men might look on His Face
alway!
Art thou ever in need of succour? call on Him in thine hour
of ill,
And be sure He will fail thee never, but will hear thee, and
help thee still.
Yet one there is dwelleth in darkness, and I wot men may fear
him well, 115
For his home is the house of falsehood, and his kingdom the
realm of Hell!
Turn thy mind away from him ever, nor waver betwixt the
twain,
For he who doubteth, his labour shall ever be wrought in
vain.'

Thus his mother read him the riddle, the myst'ry of day and
night,
The dread and the doom of darkness, and the glory and grace
of light! 120
Then javelin in hand he hastened thro' the forest pathways
wild,
And the deer sprang up from their thickets, and fled from the
dauntless child;
But clear-eyed and eager-footed he hastened upon their track,
And full oft with a hornèd trophy, at even he hied him back.
Little cared he for rain or sunshine, summer's storm or
winter's snow, 125
And daily in strength and beauty all men might behold him
grow;
Till at length no beast so mighty thro' the forest wild did
roam,
If it fell 'neath his shaft, unaided, on his shoulder he bore
it home!

It chanced thro' a woodland thicket one morn as he took his
way,
And brake from o'erhanging bushes full many a leafy spray, 130
That a pathway steep and winding rose sharply his track
anear,
And the distant beat of horse-hoofs fell strange on his
wondering ear.
Then the boy grasped his javelin firmly and thought what the
sound might be;
'Perchance 'tis the devil cometh! Well, I care not if it be
he!
Methinks I can still withstand him, be he never so fierce and
grim, 135
Of a truth my lady mother she is o'er-much afraid of _him_!

As he stood there for combat ready, behold, in the morning
light,
Three knights rode into the clearing, in glittering armour
bright;
From head to foot were they armèd, each one on his gallant
steed,
And the lad as he saw their glory thought each one a god
indeed! 140
No longer he stood defiant, but knelt low upon his knee,
And cried, 'God, Who helpest all men, I pray Thee have
thought for me!'

Then wroth was the foremost rider as the lad barred his
further way,
And he spake out, 'This stupid _Waleis_ will hinder our work
to-day!'
(Now here would I give to the Waleis the fame we Bavarians
hold; 145
They are duller than e'en our people, yet manly in strife and
bold.
And in sooth were one born in both countries such marvel of
strength and skill
Would he hide in himself that I think me their fame he might
well fulfil!)

Then there rode swift with hanging bridle, in costly harness
dight,
With plumed and jewelled helmet another gallant knight; 150
Swiftly he came as thirsting to challenge in mortal fight
The foe who sped far before him, who had done him a sore
despite;
For two knights from out his kingdom a maiden had borne away,
And he held it a deed most shameful and one he must needs
repay;
For the maiden's sorrow grieved him, and fain would he ease
her pain: 155
(And the three knights who rode before him were part of his
warlike train.)
He rode a Spanish war-horse, and his shield had fierce
conflict seen,
And Karnachkarnanz did they call him (he was Ulterleg's count
I ween).
Then he cried to his knights, 'Why loiter? who barreth our
onward way?'
And straight on the lad did he ride there, who deemed him a
god alway, 160
For ne'er had he seen such glory; his harness shone fair with
dew,
And on either foot the stirrups with golden bells rang true.
And their length was e'en as fitting, and with bells did each
strong arm ring,
As he stirred himself, or his sword-blade in battle aloft
would swing.
And the hero was swift in seeking the guerdon of knightly
prize, 165
So he rode here, the prince, and had decked him in a fair and
wondrous wise.

Then spake this flower of all knighthood, 'Say, boy, did they
pass thy way?
Two knights who have shamed their knighthood, nay, _robbers_
I ween are they,
For they bear a maiden with them, and she rideth against her
will!'
Yet the boy, tho' he spake with a man's tongue, as a god must
account him still; 170
For he thought how Queen Herzeleide had told him that God was
Light
And dwelleth in Light for ever; and so to his dazzled sight
This knight, in his shining armour in the glow of the
summer's day,
Was the God of his mother's lesson, and he knelt him again to
pray.

But the prince he spake full gently, 'Fain am I to do God's
will, 175
And yet for no God I hold me, but a sinful mortal still.
Nay, wert thou more clear of vision, thou wouldst see, an
thou sawest aright,
No Lord of the host of Heaven, but only a humble knight!'

'Knight?' quoth the boy in answer, 'Nay! I wot not what that
may be,
Is thy strength not of God, but of knighthood, then I would
such were given to me!' 180
'Then wend thy way to King Arthur, an thou camest unto his
court,
A noble knight he would make thee, ashamed and afeared for
naught,
For sure, now I look upon thee, thou com'st of a noble
strain.'
Then his knights they turned their bridles, and gazed at the
boy again.
Full well might they look and wonder, at the work that God's
Hand had wrought, 185
For they say, who tell this story, that never could human
thought
Have dreamed of aught so goodly, since ever the world began,
For of all men beloved by women, was there never so fair a
man!
Loud they laughed as the boy spake further, 'Good knight,
what may these be?
These rings that so close around thee, above and below I
see.' 190
Then he handled, with curious finger, the armour the knight
did bear,
His coat of mail close-linkèd as behovèd a knight to wear;
And he spake as he looked on the harness, 'My mother's
maidens string
On their chains, and around their fingers, full many a
shining ring,
But they cling not so close to each other as these rings that
here I see, 195
I cannot force them asunder, what good are they then to
thee?'

Then the prince drew forth from its scabbard his shining
blade so keen,
'Now see, he who fights against me, must withstand my sword I
ween,
And lest he, on his part, should slay me, it is fit that with
mail and shield,
I ward me against his spear-thrusts, and the blows that his
arm may wield.' 200
Swiftly the lad made answer, 'Little good would it do the
deer
An their coats were e'en such as thine is, they would fall
still beneath my spear.'

Full wroth were the knights and scornful that their lord thus
long had talked
With this lad with the face of an angel, and the speech as of
one distraught;
Then the prince he spake full gently, 'God keep thee in His
good grace, 205
I would that my shield's bright mirror might show me as fair
a face!
Nay, an the Giver of all gifts but gave thee wit enow
To match with a mien so goodly, full rich wert thou then I
trow!
May He keep all sorrow from thee, and thy life be a summer's
day--'
And with that he turned his bridle, and wended once more his
way. 210
Then adown the woodland pathway they rode, till they came
full soon
Where the carles of Queen Herzeleide toiled hard thro' the
sultry noon:
The fields must they plough and harrow, if a harvest they
hoped to reap,
So they goaded the patient oxen to their toil on the hillside
steep.

Then the prince he gave them 'Good-morrow,' and asked if
there passed that way 215
A maiden in need and sorrow? and they dared not to say him
nay;
But they answered him e'en as he prayed them, and they spake
'Yea, at early morn
Two knights and a maiden passed here, and the maiden, she
wept forlorn,
And the knights as they rode beside her, spurred ever her
flying steed.'
Then the prince knew his foe, Meljakanz, and his wrath waxed
hot indeed, 220
On his tracks he followed swiftly, and they who this venture
tell,
Say he won back in fight the maiden ere the shadows of
evening fell.

But sore were the queen's folk troubled that the heroes had
chanced that way,
And they spake, 'God forbid that our queen's son fall in with
these knights to-day!
An he chances to light upon them in the pride of their
warlike gear, 225
It will anger full sore our mistress if by hap she the tale
should hear:
And ill-luck will it bring upon us that, ere ever the dawn of
day,
With us while his mother slumbered, to the woods he stole
away!'
Little recked the boy of their trouble as he chased the
flying deer,
And shouted in youthful gladness, as they fell before his
spear 230
Then homeward he sped to his mother, but ere he his tale
might tell
She was smitten with deadly terror, and low at his feet she
fell.

Then soon as Queen Herzeleide found hearing and speech once
more
Her boy was she fain to question tho' her heart it misgave
her sore;
'Who spake to thee, son, of knighthood? What knowest thou of
such-like rede?' 235
'I met in the woods, sweet mother, four men I deemed gods
indeed,
So light were they all and shining, God Himself ne'er could
brighter be,
And of knighthood they spake and King Arthur, who might well
make a knight of me!'
Then her sorrow of old-time wakened, and the queen in her
heart she sought
For some cunning wile of woman, that her boy from his will be
brought. 240

When the simple lad and gallant would crave from her hand a
steed,
Tho' heavy her heart, she bethought her in naught to gainsay
his need,
'Yet not as he asks will I give him, no mother's gifts be
mine,
But ever the worst and the meanest that my skill may aye
divine.'
And she thought her, Queen Herzeleide, 'Many folk thro' the
world shall fare 245
Who love mocking--On his fair body my son shall a Fool's
dress wear,
Then sure when the mockers see him, and to scoff at his garb
are fain,
An he at their hands be smitten, then he cometh to me again!'
Alas! for a woman's cunning, and the cruelty of mother's
love,
She chose from her stores a sackcloth, the coarsest that
might be wove, 250
And a garment of this she made him that should reach e'en
unto his knee;
For his sunny hair such covering as on fools men are wont to
see;
And instead of hose she bound him on his limbs so strong and
fair
Leggings of undressed calf-skin--And all wept who beheld him
there.

Then his mother with forethought bade him to tarry till
morning light, 255
'Nor from hence would I have thee journey till my rede thou
hast heard aright--
_'Keep thou ever from paths untrodden and ford not the
darkling stream,
Where the waters flow clear and limpid, there safe is the
ford I ween.
And be ever fair and courteous, greet all men who pass thy
way.
If a wise man old and grey-headed would teach thee, as well
he may,_ 260
_All courteous ways and fitting, as his word so shall be thy
deed,
Nor wax wroth if by whiles he chide thee, but give to my
words good heed.
And one thing, my son, would I tell thee, canst thou win from
a maid her ring
And her greeting fair, thou shalt take them, and sorrow hath
lost her sting!
If a kiss from her lips she will give thee, and thine arms
shall the maid enfold,_ 265
_Be she pure and true thou art blessèd, and thy strength
shall wax high and bold!'_

'And hearken my son, a proud knight, Lähelein, do men call
his name,
From thy princes two lands hath wrested, else from them
couldst thou tribute claim.
And Waleis they are and Norgals--and one of thy princes
brave,
Turkentals, hath he slain, and thy people he hath smitten and
doth enslave.' 270
'For such wrong will I vengeance, mother, if vengeance be
here God's will,
Be he never so strong with my javelin I think me to wound him
still.'

Then e'en at the daylight's dawning the boy would no longer
stay,
For the thought of King Arthur's glory yet heavy upon him
lay.
Then Queen Herzeleide kissed him, and she sped swift his
steed behind, 275
And the sorrow of sorrows smote her when her boy she no more
might find.
(Hence he rode and what heart rejoiceth?) Then the queen from
all falsehood free,
Fell low on the earth, and grief tare her till death must her
portion be!
Yet I wot that her death so faithful it hath saved her from
pains of Hell,
And to be of such son the mother, it repayeth all anguish
well! 280
Thus she, the root of all goodness whence humility's flower
might blow,
Herself on a pilgrimage wended that a goodly goal should
know.
Woe worth us! that none of their children should live still,
to hand us down
In these days when we look on falsehood their honour and fair
renown.
And therefore shall faithful women wish well to this lad so
bold, 285
Who rideth fair ventures seeking, whose journey ye now
behold!

Then the gallant lad rode onward on his way toward
Briziljan's wood,
And he came to a rippling streamlet, and a cock well might
wade that flood!
And flowers in the grass were blooming, yet so darkling ran
the wave
That the lad he thought not to ford it; but as wit the
counsel gave, 290
So he followed its course thro' the daylight, and he passed
as he could the night,
Till he saw once more the morning, and he came to a fair ford
bright.
On the further side was a meadow, and a tent decked the grass
so green,
And tall was the tent wide-spreading, and riches thereon were
seen;
'Twas of samite of threefold colours, on the seams lay fair
ribbons wide, 295
And a leathern covering hung there, 'gainst the rain-cloud to
guard its pride.

('Twas Duke Orilus of Lalande, whose wife he beneath it
found--
She lay there in peaceful slumber with riches happed fair
around,
A Duchess she was, well worthy the love of a gallant knight,
And the venture it tells that Jeschuté was the name of that
lady bright) 300

Softly the princess slumbered,--yet weapons of love she bore;
A mouth so red and glowing, that a knight's heart had wounded
sore,
And e'en as she slept they parted asunder, her lips so
bright,
That the fire of love had kindled, (fit venture for gallant
knight)
And even as ivory snow-white, and little, and close the row 305
Of the teeth that gleamed white betwixt them--methinks that a
man were slow
To use himself to such kisses from a mouth that all men might
praise--
I wot that so fair a guerdon but seldom hath crowned my days!

A covering of richest sable over foot and knee was thrown,
(For the heat she aside hath cast it, whom her lord had thus
left alone) 310
And her form it was fairly fashioned, and wrought by a
skilful hand,
Since 'twas God Himself in His wisdom who so fair a work had
planned.
And long was her arm and rounded: on her snow-white hand a
ring
Gleamed golden, and when he saw it the lad to her side did
spring;
For had not his mother told him such jewels were the guerdon
fair 315
That a knight well might crave? and he thought him he fain
would such token bear!

Then the lady awoke in terror as his clasp on her white arm
fell,
And gazed in startled wonder and wrath as beseemed her well;
'Who is it, who thus would shame me? Nay, sir, thou art all
too free!
Go, choose thee some fairer maiden, my favours are not for
thee!' 320

In vain might she weep and bewail her; he asked not her yea,
or nay,
But took from her lips unwilling the kiss she would fain
gainsay;
And the ring of gold from her finger with ungentle hand he'ld
take,
And the clasp that her shift had fastened from the garment he
roughly brake:
In vain were her tears and struggles, she was but a woman
still, 325
And his strength was to hers as an army, perforce must she do
his will.
Then the lad spake aloud, he hungered, from his hand was the
lady free,
And she quoth, 'Of a truth 'twere better thou shouldst not
make meal of me!
If thou wert but a little wiser thou wouldst choose thee some
other meat,
There stand bread and wine, and two game-birds, of them mayst
thou freely eat, 330
Methinks when my maiden brought them, 'twas scarcely of thee
she thought!'
Then he asked not where sat the hostess, but he ate e'en as
hunger taught,
And he drank his fill; and the lady she deemed all too long
his stay,
For she thought him bereft of his senses, and she wished he
were well away,
And for fear and shame the sweat-drops stood thickly upon her
brow-- 335
And she spake, 'Thou my ring shalt give me, and the clasp
thou didst take but now,
And get thee away, if he cometh, my husband, then shalt thou
bear
The weight of his wrath, and I think me thou wouldst then
wish thyself elsewhere!'

Quoth the noble youth, 'What care I how fierce thy lord's
wrath may be?
If my presence doth shame thine honour, then from hence will
I swiftly flee.' 340
And he stepped to the bedside boldly, and kissed her as there
she lay,
Tho' little it pleased the Duchess, and without leave he rode
away;
And he spake a word of parting as he vaulted upon his steed,
'God have thee in His safe keeping, so my mother she gave me
rede.'

Then the lad he was glad of his booty, and thus did he ride a
while-- 345
Methinks there was little lacking that from hence he had gone
a mile,
Ere he came of whom I would tell you: on the dew he the
tracks might see
Of one who had sought his lady--The tent-ropes displaced
should be
Where the lad thro' the grass had ridden; then the gallant
Duke and proud
Found his lady within in sorrow, and Orilus spake aloud, 350
'Alas! for the service done thee--for smitten and put to
shame
Is the crown of my knightly honour, since another thy love
can claim!'
Then little, alas! might it profit that with streaming eyes
she swore
No lover had she save her husband,--he would hearken her tale
no more.

Then she spake in her fear and anguish, 'Twas a _fool_, he
who came to me, 355
And yet tho' a fool, of all men I wot he may fairest be!
My ring and my clasp gold-gleaming, he took them against my
will!'
'Nay, I doubt not so well he pleased thee, thou didst grant
him more favours still,'
'Now, God forbid! for his fool's garb and his javelin were
e'en too near,
It shameth us both, my husband, such words from thy lips to
hear! 360
Are _queens_ wont to love thus lowly, that thou speakest such
words of me?
Thou wrongest our royal breeding, when thou deemest such
things may be!'

Then the Duke spake, 'This shame, O lady! alone hast thou won
from me,
Thou dost call thyself _Queen_ no longer; tho' thy title
shall _Duchess_ be
Little good hath that bargain brought me--So bold shall my
manhood be, 365
That thy brother, King Lac's son Erec, for that cause beareth
hate to thee:
He is wise, and right well he knoweth that my fame so high
shall stand
That nothing shall stain mine honour, save at Prurein when
his right hand
In knightly joust once felled me, but that have I paid right
well,
In a joust at Karnant I smote him, and behind his steed he
fell, 370
And his pledge did he yield unto me,--thro' his shield I thy
token bare,
I thought not, my wife Jeschuté, with _another_ thy love to
share!'
'Thou mayst also well assure thee that the son of King
Gandein,
Proud Galoes, once lay lifeless before this arm of mine;
And thou thyself wast witness when the Knight Plihopleheri 375
Rode swift in a joust against me, nor his strife it hath
passed me by,
My spear from the saddle thrust him that his charger he sat
no more;
Yea, great was the fame that I won me by my prowess in days
of yore,
Many knights have I borne from their chargers,--yet it
profiteth not I ween,
Nor outweigheth the bitter shaming that thro' thee hath my
portion been!' 380

And with reason good do they hate me, those knights of the
Table Round,
Since eight of their bravest champions have I borne unto the
ground,
And many fair maidens saw it, when at Kanedig fierce we
fought
For the hawk; there was I the victor, and my hand fame to
thee hath brought
And that didst thou see with King Arthur--At his court doth
she dwell to-day, 385
My sister, sweet Kunnewaaré, and grave is her mien alway,
For her lips may not move to laughter till the day that her
eyes shall light
On him who of all shall be reckoned the fairest and bravest
knight.
Would he come unto me, that hero! Ah! then should a strife be
seen
As to-day in the early morning already my lot hath been. 390
I have fought, and a prince hath suffered, for joust he
toward me sped,
But my spear-point so sorely smote him that he lay there
before me, dead!'

'Well I know that in righteous anger for a lesser sin than
thine
Full many had slain the sinner, but I would not such deed
were mine!
For the service of knightly honour that to thee I had offered
fair, 395
Henceforth shalt thou know but lacking; nor thy need do I
think to spare--
No more with thy white arms circled in love and in peace I'll
lie,
Those golden days of love's glory have faded and passed us
by,
But pale be thy mouth so rosy, and tear-dimmed thy shining
eyes,
For joy shall be put far from thee, and thy heart's songs be
turned to sighs!' 400

Then sadly she looked upon him, that princess so fair and
true,
'May it be for the honour of knighthood what seemeth thee
best to do,
Wise art thou indeed and loyal, and I in thy power may be,
And I know well that heavy sorrow and pain thou canst bring
on me:
To the ordeal, I prithee, put me, and do this for all women's
sake, 405
Thereafter, an I be guilty, for my sin do thou vengeance
take!
If another's hand shall slay me, (for _thee_ were such deed
un-meet)
Then gladly I'll die--Dost thou scorn me? then welcome is
death, and sweet!'

Then he broke out in bitter anger, 'If thy pride be still so
great,
It is meet I should meekness teach thee, tho' the lesson be
all too late-- 410
No more shall we be companions, together no more we'll eat;
Be our marriage couch forgotten and the hours of communion
sweet.
This garment in which I found thee thy only robe shall be,
And instead of jewelled bridle hempen twist will I give to
thee;
Thy steed be the guest of hunger, and thy saddle once decked
so fair 415
Shall be robbed of its goodly trappings!' and with hasty hand
he tare
The samite adown, and he brake it, the saddle she rode
erewhile,
(Nor her gentle ways and seemly might his angry wrath
beguile)
With a hempen cord he bound it--Too soon had she won his
hate!
As he did this he spake, 'Now Lady, 'tis best we no longer
wait, 420
Could I reach him who shared thy favours, then fulfilled were
my heart's desire,
The venture I'ld face, though as dragon he were breathing
forth flames and fire!'
Then with weeping instead of laughter she passed from out the
tent
That lady so rich in sorrow, and sadly her way she went;
Yet more than she mourned her shaming she wept her lord's
grief, I ween, 425
His sorrow so sorely moved her, e'en death would have lighter
been.
Now of true heart shall ye bemoan her who thus did sore
anguish know,
And tho' hatred I won from all women, still I'ld mourn for
Jeschuté's woe!

So rode they upon the traces of the lad who before them fled,
And, dauntless, he little thought him how a foeman behind him
sped, 430
But whoever his eyes might light on, as his pathway they drew
anear,
He gave to him kindly greeting, 'Thus bade me my mother
dear!'

Thus rode he, our lad so foolish, adown a mountain side,
When a woman's voice before him from amid the rocks loud
cried;
'Twas a cry of heartfelt sorrow, for her joy was in ruins
laid-- 435
Then swift rode the lad towards her,--Now hear what she did,
this maid:
She tore, the maid Siguné, her plaits of long brown hair
From out her head thro' sorrow; and the lad he beheld her
there,
And he saw Schionatulander, the prince, on her knee lie dead,
And the maiden she wailed above him, and her joy had for ever
fled. 440

('If sad be their mien or joyful, my mother she bade me still
Greet all men, whoe'er might meet me) God keep thee from
greater ill,
For in sooth a sorry treasure have I found on thy knee
to-day!
Who hath wounded this knight?' (For an answer the lad he
would press alway)
'Did one with a javelin slay him? For Lady, he sure is dead; 445
Wilt thou tell me naught? Who hath slain him? If he none too
far hath fled
Methinks I might overtake him, for gladly with him I'ld
fight!'
Then the lad he laid hold on his quiver wherein lay the
javelins bright,
And still in his hand tight claspèd, the tokens twain he bore
Which he in his thoughtless folly erewhile from Jeschuté
tore. 450
Had he known the courtly customs with his father's life
in-bound,
His shield were better smitten when the duchess alone he
found
Who thro' him must suffer sorrow--for more than a whole year
long,
Her husband withheld his favour, tho' in sooth did he do her
wrong.

Now list to this maid Siguné who her grief would bemoan as
meet, 455
She spake to the lad, 'Thou art courteous, all hail! to thy
youth so sweet,
And thy face so fair; yea blessèd thy lot shall hereafter be!
No javelin pierced this hero, but slain in a joust was he--
From truth wast thou born who truly for another's woe can
grieve!'
Then his name she was fain to hearken, ere the lad her side
might leave, 460
And she spake, God with skill had wrought him--But his answer
was naught but this,
'At home all who know me call me '_Bon fils, Cher fils, Beau
fils!_'

Ere ever the word was spoken, the maiden she knew his name--
Now hearken aright his title, that hereafter ye own his fame
Who is hero of this my venture, who now standeth the maid
beside-- 465
And her red lips they spake unfaltering, 'Thou art
_Parzival_,' she cried,
And thy name it shall mean '_to pierce thro_',' for thy
mother's faithful heart
With furrow of grief was riven when she from her lord must
part:
And I speak not that those shouldst vaunt thee; thy mother my
aunt shall be,
And in truth, with no guile of falsehood, thy race will I
tell to thee!' 470

'An Angevin was thy father, thy mother of fair Waleis,
And I know for a truth thy birthplace was the city of
Kanvoleis;
And thou art the King of Norgals, and there in the citadel
As king shalt thou bear the sceptre and crown as beseems thee
well.
For thy sake was he slain, this hero, who thy kingdom for
thee would guard, 475
His truth it hath faltered never, tho' in death did he find
reward.
Two brothers have wrought thee evil, two kingdoms from thee
have reft,
And Orilus this thy kinsman in a joust hath lifeless left.
And me too hath he left in sorrow--He served me nor thought
it shame,
This prince of thy land, where my childhood did thy mother's
tending claim. 480
Now fair and sweet my cousin wouldst thou hear how he met his
end?
'Twas the fair wove leash of a brachet that brought sorrow
unto my friend--
He hath served us twain, in our service hath he won him but
death alone,
And I, I have won but sorrow, and henceforth for his death
make moan,
For scant of wit was I surely, that I gave not my love
afore-- 485
So God hath my gladness shattered, and the dead I love
evermore!'

Then he spake, 'I must mourn, O cousin, thy grief, and my
bitter wrong,
Of a truth till I may avenge them the time seemeth
over-long!'
Then straight would he ride to battle, but the way did she
falsely show,
For she feared were he slain then henceforward yet sorer
should wax her woe. 490
But a road he found that led him straightway to the Breton's
land,
And smooth and wide was that highway--An there met him on
either hand
Afoot or ahorse a merchant or knight, he would greet them
still,
For so was his mother's counsel; and she spake with no
thought of ill.

But great weariness o'ertook him, as darkened the eventide, 495
And a house that was none too stately the youth in his folly
spied.
'Twas a churl he who sat within it, discourteous by birth and
low,
(A fisherman he, little kindness might one at his hand e'er
know)
Then the lad drew rein for he hungered, and craved of him
drink and meat.
But the host quoth, 'Nay, not a half-loaf shalt thou have at
mine hand to eat 500
In thirty years; he who waiteth, in the gifts of mine hand to
share,
O'er-long shall delay his journey--For none but myself I
care,
Thereafter perchance for my children--Thou comest not here
to-day,
Hadst thou money or pledge 'twere other, then thine host
would I be straightway!' 505

Then Jeschuté's clasp all golden the lad he would bid him
take,
And soon as the peasant saw it, with smiling mouth he spake,
'Wilt thou stay here, sweet lad? then due honour be thy
portion from all within--'
'Wilt thou feed me to-night and to-morrow wilt help me the
way to win
To King Arthur (for well I love him) then thyself mayst keep
the gold!' 510
'Yea, that will I do,' quoth the peasant, 'for ne'er might
mine eyes behold
A face and form so comely--I will thee, as a marvel, bring
To the court, and the good Round Table, and the face of the
noble king!'

So the lad thro' the night abode there, and ere ever the dawn
of day
He roused himself full eager to get on his onward way, 515
And the fisher, he made him ready, and before the lad he ran,
And the boy he rode behind him, and swift were both steed and
man.

(Herr Hartmann von Aue, and thy lady, the queenly Guinevere,
And thy gallant lord, King Arthur, a guest do I bring ye
here;
No tool is he for your mocking, nay, never a harp or lute, 520
Ye shall choose ye some other plaything, such as courtesy
well doth suit;
Else will I thy lady Enid, and her mother Karnafite
Pass under the mill, and their honour with bitter scorn I'll
smite--
Tho' I tune my song to mocking, and thy lips with mockery
seal,
Yet here will I guard my hero lest thy scorn he perchance
should feel!) 525

When the lad with his guide so humble to the city walls drew
near,
And Nantes might be well discernèd in the morning light so
clear,
'God keep thee, boy,' said the fisher, 'thou seest where thou
must ride.'
Quoth the lad yet scant in knowledge, 'Yet nearer must thou
be guide!'
'Nay, nay, so proud as these court-folk, such folly be far
from me, 530
An' a peasant came nigh unto them, his welcome would sorry
be!'

So alone the lad rode onward o'er a plain that was none too
wide,
And the flowers stood fair around him and blossomed on every
side,
No Kurwenal was his teacher and of courtesy knew he naught--
They know it not, the untravelled, till the world hath wisdom
taught-- 535
Of hempen twist his bridle, and feeble and faint his steed,
And oft it fell, as stumbling it went o'er the flowery mead.
And nowhere upon his saddle fair leather and new was seen;
And of samite fair and ermine full great his lack had been.
No mantle clasp he needed, nor knightly garb he wore, 540
Of blazoned coat or surcoat; his javelin alone he bore.
He whose deeds were praised of all men, his father so brave
and wise,
Was robed in far other fashion on the carpet 'fore Kanvoleis!

He who ne'er felt the sweat of terror, to him did a knight
draw near;
Then he greeted him, 'May God keep thee! thus bade me my
mother dear.' 545
'God reward thee, lad, and thy mother,' swift answer the
knight would bring,
(Uther Pendragon reared him, he was cousin unto the king,
And unto the land of Bretagne did the self-same knight lay
claim)
He was Ither of Gaheviess, 'The Red Knight' they called his
name.

All dazzling red was his armour, the eye from its glow
gleamed red; 550
Red was his horse swift-footed, and the plumes that should
deck its head,
Of samite red its covering; redder than flame his shield;
Fair-fashioned and red his surcoat; and the spear that his
hand would wield
Was red, yea, the shaft and the iron; and red at the knight's
desire
Was his sword, yet the blade's fair keenness was not dimmed
by the raging fire. 555
And the King of Cumberland, stately, in his mailèd hand did
hold
A goblet, with skill engraven, and wrought of the good red
gold--
From the Table Round had he reft it--All red was his shining
hair
Yet white was his skin, and kindly his speech to the lad and
fair.

'Now hail to thy fair young body, that in sooth a true woman
bare, 560
Yea, blessèd is she thy mother! Ne'er saw I a face so fair,
And the light of thine eyes, I think me, is kindled by love
alone,
And Love shall in thee be victor, as by thee Love is
overthrown!
And in thee is the joy of woman, whose bliss finds in thee
its goal,
And for thee shall the load of sorrow weigh heavy upon the
soul-- 565
Now do me this grace I pray thee, an thou wend thee unto the
town
Bear greeting from me to King Arthur, and his heroes of high
renown,
And say that no fleeting vision am I who now speak with thee,
But here I abide, and await him who thinketh to joust with
me!'

'And never a man will wonder: to the Table Round I came 570
And there, in the heroes' presence to my kingdom would I lay
claim,
And with hasty hand I raised it, this cup, and the wine
out-poured
The robes of the queen besprinkled, as she sat there beside
her lord.
This I did as the custom olden of one who would claim his
right
For better I thought the wine-cup, than the straw-wisp all
alight, 575
For its smoke perchance had soiled me, thus I chose it not'
spake the king,
'Nor for robbery rode I hither, my crown doth forbid such
thing--
Say thou to the queen that the wine-drops, they fell on her
'gainst my will
Where those heroes sit, nor remember, nor their knighthood as
meet fulfil.
Whether kings they shall be or princes o'er-long doth he
thirst their king! 580
This cup, why delay to fetch it? Their fame it hath taken
wing!'

Then the lad spake, 'I'll bear thy message, yea, e'en as thou
biddest me.'
And then unto Nantes fair city he gat him right speedily,
And many a youth they followed to the court of the palace
fair,
And 'twas filled with a motley gathering, and they thronged
him and pressed him there. 585
Then Iwanet sprang from out them, and this youth from
falsehood free
He gave him a kindly greeting, and he proffered him company.
And the lad he quoth, 'God keep thee, (so my mother she bade
me speak
Ere yet from home I wended) King Arthur I fain would seek
But here see I full many an Arthur! Who of all these shall
make me knight?' 590
Then Iwanet laughed loud 'I will show thee, not yet hast thou
seen the right!'

To the Table Round he led him where sat the heroes all
And as best he could for the tumult cried the lad thro' the
lofty hall,
'God keep ye all ye heroes! I greet ye both queen and king,
For thus did my mother bid me fair greeting to ye to bring. 595
And all who have won by their valour at the Table Round a
seat
Ye gallant knights and heroes, ye too did she bid me greet!
But in one thing my skill doth fail me, who is host here I
may not know;
To him do I bear a message from a knight who all red doth
glow,
He waiteth without the portal (methinks he is fain to fight) 600
That he spilt o'er the queen the wine-cup that sorely doth
grieve the knight--
Ah! if I his gear so goodly from the king's hand as gift
might take,
In sooth were I rich in gladness--so knightly and fair its
make!'

Thus spake the youth gay and careless, and the courtiers they
thronged around
And hither and thither pressed him till scarce might he stand
his ground: 605
And well did they look upon him, for each for himself might
see
That never in man or maiden might the fruit of love fairer
be.
And in truth it was no ill working that in Parzival God had
wrought,
In whom never a sight of terror had wakened of fear a
thought.

Thus they brought him before King Arthur, he whom God for a
wonder chose, 610
And no man might bear him hatred--Then the queen from her
seat arose
And she gazed for a space upon him ere she passed from out
the hall
Where the wine from the golden goblet perforce on her robes
must fall.
Then Arthur he looked upon him--To the simple youth he spake,
'Now lad to thy kindly greeting a kindly answer take, 615
For this would I do thee service, yea with body alike and
land;
This I speak of a true heart truly, so my will doth toward
thee stand!'

'Would to God that were true! Now I think me it well-nigh a
year shall be
That I fain would be knight, lacking knighthood all else
seemeth ill to me!
Now make thou no more delaying, be knighthood my lot
straightway.' 620
Quoth the king, 'I were fain to do so if worth fail me not
alway,
So noble art thou to look on; and goodly gifts and rare
Would I give thee; to do thee service I'll naught of my
treasure spare.
Yea, loath had I been to refuse thee, wait but for
to-morrow's light,
And I myself will dower thee with all that befits a knight.' 625

The lad like a bird new cagèd, he shook himself to and fro,
And he quoth, 'For naught do I ask thee! But that knight who
as fire doth glow
If thou givest me not his armour no gift will I take from
thee,
My _mother_ will not withhold it--For a queen shall she
surely be.'

Then Arthur he quoth, 'That armour so gallant a knight doth
wear 630
That to give thee a gift so goodly methinks I may hardly
dare.
And guiltless I live in sorrow since his homage I must
forego,
Ither he is of Gaheviess; thro' my joy hath he wrought me
woe.'

'Now my King sure it were ungracious to say to his pleading
nay,
Thou shalt give him what he desireth, nor think it too
great,' quoth Kay, 635
'Let him forth to the plain; bid him bring thee the cup if it
be thy will!
Here hast thou the whip, there the top is, let the child have
of sport his fill.
The women, forsooth, will praise him, and it seemeth good to
me
He should learn to take blows an he gives them, many such
will his portion be.
For the life of the twain what care I? Each of us needs must
have his day, 640
If thy dogs for the spoil shall hunger, thou must e'en give
thy dogs their way.'
'I were loath to refuse his pleading, yet I feared lest he
here be slain,
And to knighthood I fain had helped him.' Thus Arthur he
spake again.

Thus the lad won the gift he craved for, which many perforce
must rue,
And young and old they followed, as forth from the hall he
flew. 645
By the hand would Iwanet lead him, 'fore a bower that was
none too high,
And backward and forward turning the lad gazed with eager
eye.
And the bower was so low that within it the lad he both heard
and saw,
And therefrom did he win a sorrow that vexed him with torment
sore.

The queen from her bower window to look on the sight was
fain, 650
And her knights and maidens round her they gazed and they
gazed again.
And the maiden Kunnewaaré she sat there, the fair and proud,
And never, that man might wot of, had she laughed or low or
loud.
For never she vowed, an she died first, would she laugh ere
her eyes might see
That knight, who of knights the bravest or was, or henceforth
should be. 655
As the lad rode beneath the window she brake into laughter
sweet,
And her back was sore from the guerdon--reward for a maid
unmeet!
For Kay the Seneschal seized her, the maiden of fair Lalande,
By her waving hair, and the tresses he wound fast around his
hand,
Without a band he bound her--Tho' never an oath she sware 660
His staff he laid unknightly on her maiden shoulders fair,
And ere ever the sound of the smiting on the ear had died
away
Thro' white skin and royal raiment had he wounded the maid
that day.

And thus did he speak in his folly, 'Now hast thou thine own
fair fame
Cast aside, and I wot thou hast done it to thine own mending
shame! 665
Now see, e'en in flight have I caught it, and I bring it to
thee once more
In such wise thou mayst well remember, and be e'en in the
memory sore:
For I wot well unto King Arthur, to his court and his palace
hall
Many gallant men have ridden, yet hast thou despised them
all,
And ne'er hast thou smiled upon them--And now doth thy
laughter ring 670
For one knowing naught of knighthood! Unseemly I deem this
thing!'

Now whate'er might be done in anger I wot well no king's
decree
Had bid him thus smite the maiden; and her friends mourned
her bitterly.
(Might she bear knightly shield and armour it had helped not
this sore disgrace,
Discourteous the blows were smitten.) She came of a royal
race, 675
Had her gallant brothers seen it, Lähelein and Orilus
Far fewer blows had fallen; she ne'er had been smitten thus.