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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

Then he spake, 'Now bethink thee, Lady, who thus should thy hatred claim,
For never my hand, I think me, hath brought to a woman shame,
(So had I myself dishonoured) since ever I bare a shield,
Or thought upon deeds of knighthood, or hath striven in battle-field;
Yet else am I sad for thy sorrow!' Then forth brake the tear-drops bright,555
And ran fast adown her bosom, and over her breasts so white,
So fair, and so softly moulded, that never might turner's skill,
Tho' swiftly he wrought and rounded, his task in such wise fulfil.
And so lovely was she in her sorrow his heart was to pity fain,
And with hands and arms a cover from his glance did she strive to gain.560

Then Parzival spake, 'Now, Lady, of true service from mocking free,
In God's Name take thou here my surcoat, a covering 'twill be for thee.'
'Nay, Sir Knight, I may never take it, e'en tho' bliss I thereby should gain,
Ride swift on thy way, I pray thee, an thou wouldst not we both were slain;
Tho' my death it would little grieve me, if I fear me, 'tis for thy sake!'565
'Say, Lady, who thus would wrong us? Who thinketh our life to take?
'Twas God's hand that gave it to us—Nay, were they an armèd host
Who here for our life were thirsting, I would face them nor fear the cost!'

Then she spake, ''Tis a dauntless hero, so gallant in strife is he
That heavy would be their labour if six should his foemen be;570
(I would thou wert not beside me) I aforetime his wife had been,
Yet so poor am I now and wretched, for his slave were I all too mean,
Thus his wrath doth he wreak upon me.' To that lady he spake again,
'Say, who rideth here with thy husband? For if I to fly were fain,
As here thou dost give me counsel, thyself sure wouldst deem it ill,575
Ere of flight I have learnt the lesson I would die with a right good will!'

Then out spake the Duchess sadly, 'Alone with my lord I fare,
But yet that may little serve thee, nor shall victory be here thy share.'
And in rags was all her vesture, and naught but the hem untorn,
Yet the crown of woman's honour in her poverty had she worn, 580
And her ways were ways of goodness, and falsehood afar had fled—
Then he bound afresh his visor and the helmet upon his head
As one who to battle rideth—Then his charger aloft would rear,
It was 'ware of the steed beside it, and its neigh rang out loud and clear;
And he who a space before them on the woodland way would ride, 585
He hearkened the sound, and would see him who rode there by his lady's side.
Then he turned his bridle wrathful by the side of the narrow way,
And with lance in rest for jousting Duke Orilus rode that day,
And manly, I ween, his bearing, from Gaheviess came his spear,
And weapon alike and harness of one colour were blazoned clear. 590

His helmet, Trebuchet wrought it; the shield in distant Spain
Was welded fair for the hero, King Kailet in that land doth reign,
And strong were the rim and the centre—In Alexandria's city fair
Was the costly pfellel woven that for surcoat and coat he ware.
The covering of his charger at Tenabroc was it made 595
Of rings of steel close welded—And thus he his pride displayed,
For over the iron cover lay a pfellel so fair to see,
And all men who saw bare witness that costly its worth must be—
And gorget, and greaves, and headgear, tho' rich, yet their weight was light,
And many a plate of iron it guarded this gallant knight; 600
In Beàlzenan was it fashioned, chief city of fair Anjou.
(But she who rode bare behind him far other her garb to view,
For in sooth might she find none better) from Soissons his breastplate came,
But he won his gallant charger from the far-off lake Brimbane,
In the mountains of Monsalväsch—Lähelein, his brother bold, 605
In a joust o'erthrew the rider, and the steed as his prize would hold.

And Parzival too was ready—his charger in onward flight
'Gainst Orilus of Lalande bare swiftly the gallant knight;
And he saw on his shield a dragon, yea, e'en as it were alive,
And another upon the helmet fast bounden did upward strive. 610
And many small golden dragons on surcoat and robe he bare,
Enriched with many a jewel, and with red eyes of ruby fair.
From afar would they make their onslaught, these dauntless heroes twain,
No need to renounce their friendship, nor thro' kinship from strife refrain,
Aloft flew the spears in splinters—Methinks I might vaunt me well 615
If I such a joust had witnessed as here in this wood befell!

Thus they rode at swiftest gallop not one joust alone, I ween,
And Jeschuté at heart bare witness fairer jousting she ne'er had seen;
So she stood, and her hands she wrung them, this lady of joy bereft,
Nor harm did she wish to either, that one should be lifeless left. 620
In sweat were they bathed, the chargers, and the knights they strove for fame,
And sparks sprang bright from the sword-blades, and forth from the helm flashed flame,
And the blows fell fierce and mighty, and far flashed the light of strife,
None were better than they in battle, and they met here for death or life,
And tho' willing and swift the chargers that the heroes would here bestride,625
They forgot not their spurs, and their sword-blades bright-glancing they deftly plied.
And Parzival won him honour, for here hath he rightly shown
How before a hundred dragons one man well might hold his own.

And ill did it fare with one dragon, and sore were its wounds that day,
'Twas the crest that aloft in glory on Orilus' helmet lay, 630
And so clear that the light shone thro' them were the costly jewels bright
That fell when the helm was smitten by Parzival's sword of might;
'Twas on horse, not afoot, that they fought thus—The love of her angry lord
Was won back again for Jeschuté by the play of the glittering sword.
Then they dashed again on each other so close that they smote away,635
With their knees, the rings of iron—So valiant in strife were they!
I will tell ye why one was wrathful; that his lady of royal race
Ere this had been shamed; her guardian, from him might she look for grace;
Yet he deemed that with wandering fancy her heart from her lord had strayed,
And that she, in the love of another, her honour had lowly laid. 640
And he would for such wrong have vengeance, and his judgment on her was done
In such wise, save were death her portion no woman such woe had won,
And yet she in naught had wronged him—If his favour he would withhold,
What man e'er might think to hinder? For ever from days of old
The man hath power o'er the woman, the husband shall rule the wife.645
Yet Parzival the hero, he thought him to win with strife
For Jeschuté her husband's favour—Methinks one should pray such grace
In courteous wise, but flattery it here found but little place.
And both they were right, I think me—He who ruleth the ways of life,
Or straight they may be or crooked, 'twas His so to rule their strife650
That never to one nor the other the joust death for guerdon brought,
Harm enow had they done to each other the while they so fiercely fought.

Now hotter it waxed, the conflict, each hero would fain defend
His knightly fame 'gainst the other; Duke Orilus of Lalande,
He fought with the skill and cunning his hand had learnt of yore, 655
For I ween none like him had battled—he had courage and strength in war,
And therefore had he been victor on many a foughten field,
Tho' other were here the ending—His foe would he force to yield;
And he threw his arms around him, the hero so proud and bold,
But Parzival, little daunted, on his foeman made good his hold, 660
And he drew him from off his saddle; as a sheaf from the field ye reap
So beneath his arm he swung him, and light from his horse did leap.
O'er a fallen tree he held him, for here was he overthrown
Who never of need or peril such fortune before had known.
'Now do penance for this thine anger that hath wrought to thy lady woe,665
An thy favour be yet withholden, then death shalt thou surely know!'
'Nay, nay, not so swift,' quoth his foeman, Duke Orilus of Lalande,
'Tho' o'erthrown, I am not so vanquished that I may not thy will withstand!'

Then Parzival, strong and valiant, his foeman he gripped amain,
And forth thro' the visor gushing streamed the blood in a crimson rain,670
And the prince, I ween, was vanquished, he could win from him what he would,
To die was he all unwilling, and he spake to the hero good,
'Alas! thou bold knight dauntless, who evil on me hath sped,
Say how have I earned this peril, to lie here before thee, dead?'