BOOK VI

ARTHUR

Now perchance it were well I should tell ye, how, as this his folk did pray,
From Karidöl and his kingdom, King Arthur had ridden away.
And now the venture telleth, on his own and on stranger ground
For eight days long had they ridden, nor yet had the Red Knight found.
For in truth 'twas for him they were seeking, to honour his hand were fain,5
From sorrow had he released them, who had erst Prince Ither slain;
And Klamidé the king, and Kingron, in a welcome hour had sent
To the court of the Breton Monarch: for on this was King Arthur bent,
He would make him one of his circle, a knight of the Table Round,
No labour too great he counted, so the hero at last he found! 10

Thus o'er mountain and vale they sought him—All who knightly shield might bear,
King Arthur now called around him, and in this wise he bade them swear:
What deeds so e'er of knighthood they should see, by this their oath,
They should on no conflict venture, but faithful still keep their troth,
As they sware unto him, their monarch, and fight but as he thereto 15
Should give them leave—He spake thus, 'Now, 'tis well! Since we needs must go
Thro' many a stranger country, where many a stranger spear,
And many a gallant hero are waiting us, I fear,
If ye, like hounds untrainèd whose leash shall have slipped the hand
Of him who was late their master, shall roam free o'er all the land,20
Much evil might there befall ye, and such chance should but please me ill,
And by this your oath, I think me, such rashness I best may still.
Be ye sure and need ariseth, your king ne'er will say you Nay,
Till then, as I here command ye, ride peaceful upon your way.'

Now the oath, ye shall well have heard it—Now hear ye how Parzival,25
The Waleis, rode near unto them: thro' the night did the snow-flakes fall,
Light they fell, yet lay thickly on him, yet if well I the tale may know,
And the singer aright hath sung it, it was never the time of snow;
For whate'er men have sung or spoken of King Arthur, at Whitsuntide,
Or when May-blossoms deck the meadow, these marvels did aye betide. 30
For sweetly the springtide bloometh, and many a garb, I ween,
Shall it bear this song of my singing, tho' snow-clad it now be seen.

The falconers from Karidöl, as the shadows of evening fell,
Rode, hawking, by Plimizöl's waters, when an evil chance befell,
For the best of their hawks flew from them, nor stooped to the lure again,35
But all night in the dusky shadows of the woodland it did remain.

With Parzival it sheltered; to the twain was the woodland way
A road unknown, sharp the frost stung, in the far east uprose the day,
And, lo! all around the hero, the snow-flakes lay thick and white:
Thro' the forest paths untrodden, in ever waxing light, 40
Rode our hero by hedge or thicket, by rock and by fallen tree,
Till clear grew the shadowy woodland, and its depths he well might see,
And a mighty tree of the forest had fallen where he would ride,
(The falcon yet followed after) 'mid its clustering boughs he spied
A flock of wild-geese from the Northland, their hissing he first had heard,45
Swift swooped the falcon upon them and struck to the earth a bird:
And scarce might it fly the clutches of its foe, and fresh shelter take
'Neath the shade of the fallen branches; in its flight from the wounds there brake
Three blood-drops, all glowing crimson, and fell on the spotless snow,
As Parzival's eyes beheld them, swift sorrow his heart must know! 50

Now hear ye his love so loyal—As he looked on these blood-drops bright,
That stained with a stain of crimson the snow-flakes that lay so white,
He thought, 'Say what hand hath painted these colours that here I see?
Kondwiramur, I think well, these tints sure shall liken thee!
And white snow and blood-drops crimson, do ever thy likeness share, 55
For this favour I praise God's working, and the world he hath wrought so fair!
For in this wise I read the vision,—in this snow that so spotless lies,
'Gainst the blood-drops, that ruddy-gleaming, glow crimson beneath mine eyes,
I find ever thy face so gracious, my lady, Kondwiramur,
Red as blood-drops and white as the snowdrift, it rejoiceth me evermore!'60
Then her sweet face arose before him, in that night she first sought his side,
When on each cheek a tear-drop glistened, and a third to her chin did glide.
And so true was his love and steadfast, little recked he of aught around,
But wrapped round in love and longing, saw naught but the blood-stained ground.
Frau Minne with force constrained him, as here on his wife he thought,65
And by magic of colours mystic, a spell on his senses wrought.

So held he him still, as sleeping—Would ye know who found him there?
The squire of fair Kunnewaaré would forth unto Lalande fare,
And as on his way he journeyed, by the woodland green he saw
A helmet all battle-dinted, and a shield which yet traces bore 70
Of many a bitter conflict that was foughten for lady fair;
And a knight there abode in armour, and his lance he aloft did bear
As one who here patient waited the joust that he fain would ride.
The squire swiftly turned his bridle and back to the camp he hied.
Yet in sooth had he seen the stranger, and his lady's champion known,75
He had ne'er been so swift to decry him, nor had wished he were overthrown,
Nor e'en as he were an outlaw, set the heroes upon his track:
The squire he of queen unfaithful, small wonder he knighthood lacked!