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 wrought

Let the son of Gamuret ride forth, and all ye good folk and true

Wish him well, for bitter sorrow this hero hereafter knew,

Tho’ honour and joy should crown him—And sorely his heart did grieve5

That 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 told

Of 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!10

O’er rock and marshy moorland, with loosened reins the steed

Dashed free, the rider thought not to guide or check its speed.

Of a truth the venture telleth, so far did he ride that day

E’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 fare15

When Ither he slew, or from Graharz rode swift unto Pelrap?r.

Now hear ye what chanced unto him; he came at the close of day

To 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 near

That e’en as they saw him riding his question they well might hear.20

And one he saw in a vessel all clad in such royal pride

Scarce 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 spake

And 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.25

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 found

Save 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.30

Ride there to the high cliff’s ending, then turn thee to thy right hand

Until to the moat thou comest, and thy charger perforce must stand;

Then bid thou the castle warder to let the drawbridge fall

And 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,35

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 hill

Have 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;40

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 won

To 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 hall45

And 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,50

’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 win

Since 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,55

By knightly sports untrodden—Nor oft would they Tourneys ride,

(By short green turf was it covered) and but seldom with banners bright

As 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.60

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,65

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 away

From face and hands, and they saw him as the light of a second day,70

So he sat in all eyes lovely—Then a mantle rich they brought

Of 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,’75

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 me

That 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,80

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 loyalty

They who sorrowed with him were joyful; far more had they there, I ween,

Than at Pelrap?r, when his right hand their shelter from grief had been!

Then sadly he thought, as his harness the squires on one side would bear,85

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 side90

Then he clenched his fist so tightly that the clasp rung the blood-drops red

From 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,95

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 low

With many a taper laden; round the walls shone the tapers’ glow.100

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:105

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.110

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 fair

In 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,115

‘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 guest

Spake 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 wear

Both wide and long, and with sable were they lined and garnished fair.120

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 gold

Wrought around, and a flashing ruby in the centre might all behold.

Now many brave knights they sat there, and grief passed their face before,125

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 fast

Adown 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.130

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 know

When 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,135

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.140

And each wore on her hair loose flowing, a chaplet of blossoms bound

With 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,145

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 white

Two stools they bare, and glowing their lips e’en as fire is bright.150

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,155

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 meet

To serve at will for a table where a wealthy host might eat.160

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,165

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.170

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 be175

To 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 low

On the Jacinth, and courteous turning to the first twelve in order go.180

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,185

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 Achmardi

Root 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!190

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 bore195

Six glasses tall, transparent—and wondrous balsam’s store

Burnt 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 maid200

Elect 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 side

They stood, but the crownèd maiden no beauty with hers had vied!

And as many knights as were seated around that palace hall,205

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.210

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 dight215

To serve the four who sat there, and their service they knew aright,

For twain would carve, low kneeling, and twain to the knights would bear

Of food and drink as needful, and thus for their wants would care.

Now hearken ye greater riches—on wheelèd cars were rolled

To every knight in order, fair vessels of wroughten gold,220

And four knights set them on the tables, and with each ye a steward might see

To 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;225

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 stand

What 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,230

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 need235

Of 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 best

Might speak the word, and proffer the cup, and behold! ’twas filled

By the power of the Grail—Thus the hunger of that gallant host was stilled,240

And the Grail Itself sustained them, and Parzival wondering saw

The 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 awhile

Methinks it will then befall me as aforetime in Graharz land,245

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 fight250

Ere God’s Hand thus sorely smote me; now with this shalt thou be repaid

If aught hath in care been lacking—Henceforth shalt thou bear this blade

Whatever chance befall thee, and when thou its power hast tried

Thou wilt know thou art fully armèd, whatever strife betide.’

Ah! woe to the guest that asked not, I am sorrowful for his sake,255

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 bore

Again to their task they turn them, and they bear them forth once more.260

The cars again they circle; each maid to her task was fain

From 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 door265

Within an outer chamber, on a folding couch he saw

The 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,270

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,275

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.280

But he who his story aimeth at the ear of a fool shall find

His 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 hear

Ere 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,285

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 woe

To whom he had come, our hero, glad song might they seldom know,

Or sound of dance or of Tourney; so heavy were they at heart

That never a thought of gladness might find in their life a part,290

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,295

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 guest

Straightway to a sleeping chamber, and goodly should be his rest.300

’Twas richly decked for his honour, and the couch it was spread so fair

That 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,305

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 light

Gave challenge unto each other—What day e’er might shine so bright?

And before his couch was another, thereon would he take his seat

While pages drew them nearer, and proffered him service meet.310

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 bare315

Before 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 sight

Ere yet they might hear his greeting, yet their eyes had found swift delight,320

And their heart’s desire was quickened at the sight of his red lips’ glow

That 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 white

Brought syrups sweet, and red wine, and the fourth, that maiden bright,

Bare fruit that e’erwhile had ripened in the garden of Paradise325

On 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 best

For 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.330

Then down on the costly carpet the squires set the tapers bright

When they saw that he slept, and swiftly they gat from the gallant knight.

Yet Parzival lay not lonely, for until the dawn of day

Heart-sorrow would lie beside him, nor passed with the dawn away.

And every coming anguish its heralds before would speed,335

E’en so that the fair youth’s vision out-weighed e’en his mother’s need

When 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.340

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 wait

Till slumber again o’ercame him; none spake, none aloud would cry,345

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 wake350

To-day to some task of knighthood—If mine host doth some foeman fear

Then his will will I do right gladly, and faithful her prayer will hear

Who of true heart this mantle lent me—If my service she think to take

Then 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,355

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 fight

From foot to head, and beside him he girded those swords of might.

Then forth went the gallant hero, and his steed to the palace stair

Was bound, shield and spear stood by it, and he joyed as he found them there.360

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 more

To where he at eve dismounted when first he the castle found,365

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 stay

But he turned his rein, and swiftly to the drawbridge he made his way,370

But a hidden hand drew the rope taut, and the forepart it rose on high

And well-nigh had his charger fallen, then he turned him right speedily

For 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,375

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;380

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,385

And he thought, ‘They who go before me to-day will a foeman face

And fight for their master’s honour; an they knew it, their ring of might

Methinks 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,390

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 more395

And 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 alone

A maiden, whose truth wrought her sorrow, for between her arms so white

Embalmed did she lifeless hold him who living had been her knight.400

Were there one who saw her sorrow and mourned not for her bitter woe

Then 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 free

Is all earthly faith to her true love—Then Parzival greeting spake,405

‘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.410

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,415

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 ill

With 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,420

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 fair

Would seek, he may never find it, tho’ many that quest shall dare.

Unawares must they chance upon it, for I wot in no other wise425

Shall that Burg and all that it holdeth be looked on by mortal eyes.

Sir Knight, thou hast never seen it; Monsalv?sch I ween its name,

Terre de Salv?sch 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,430

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,435

At Monsalv?sch he hath his dwelling, the head of that noble line.’

Then she spake, ‘If indeed thou camest to that folk who so sore doth mourn

Then perchance is their king releasèd from the burden he long hath borne?’

Out spake the Waleis, ‘I saw truly great marvels, and many a maid

Of beauty rare’—she knew him by his voice ere the words were said.440

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;445

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 queen

Thy mother, of............