Parzival: A Knightly Epic (vol. 1 of 2)

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

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!