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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

Thus maiden and man beheld him, and his honour all men did praise,
Till he found here the goal of sighing, and the end of his joyous days.
For hither came one I must tell of, and faithful was she in truth
Tho' discourteous her ways, and for sorrow, I ween, had she little ruth!
And the folk for her message sorrowed—Now hear how the maid must ride,585
Her mule it was tall as a war-horse, and branded on either side;
And its nostrils were slit as is custom in the far land of Hungary,
Yet her harness and bridle were costly, with rich work broidered cunningly.
Soft and slow paced her mule, yet the maiden was not as a maid, I trow.
What sought she? She came as 'twas fated, and sorrow must Arthur know.590
And of wisdom forsooth this maiden might boast her a wondrous store,
No tongue but she spake, French, Latin, and Paynim: in all such lore
As men read in the highest heavens, Dialectics, Geometry,
In all was she courteous trainèd, and her name it was called Kondrie.
'The sorceress' did men name her, nor her speech halted on its way,595
Too ready her tongue, since rejoicing she smote into grief that day.

This maiden, so rich in wisdom, bare little of maiden grace,
No lover e'er praised her beauty, no tongue spake her fair of face.
A tempest she, joy destroying, yet of bridal cloth from Ghent
Did she wear a mantle, bluer than azure the soft tints blent. 600
As a cap was it fairly fashioned, such as maidens in France shall wear,
And beneath it, around her body, a silken robe she bare.
And a hat of the English peacock, with silk of orient lined,
And new was the hat, and the fastening, and it hung low the maid behind.
And like to a bridge her message, that sorrow o'er joy had crossed,605
And shame enough did she bring them, till laughter in tears was lost.

In a thick plait above her headgear had she flung her tresses back,
And adown on the mule were they hanging, so long, and so coarse, and black,
Nor softer to touch than the bristles, which swine on their backs shall show.
And her nose as a dog's was shapen, and from out her mouth did grow610
Two tusks as had 'seemed a wild boar, a hand's-breadth long were they;
And above her eyes the eyebrows as thick as plaits they lay.
And I speak but the truth, as I needs must, tho' my words lack in courtesy
Since I speak of a maid, yet, for such cause, none other reproacheth me.

And ears as a bear had Kondrie, and never the eye might trace 615
A shy glance of love, or of longing, I ween in that wondrous face.
And a scourge did she bear, and the handle was a ruby, of silk the cord;
And the hands of this winsome maiden like a lion's were sharply clawed,
And the skin as an ape's was dusky, and the nails they were not too light,
And I ween, for her maiden favours, but seldom would heroes fight! 620

So rode she unto the circle, and her coming did sorrow bring,
And fair joy did she put in peril—Then turned she unto the king,
(And Kunnewaaré sat beside him, his table-mate was she,
And fair Guinevere, his consort, a queen bare her company.)
Thus in royal state King Arthur as monarch sat that day— 625
To the Breton king rode Kondrie, and in French did she speak alway;
And tho' I in another language than hers shall the venture tell,
Yet I rede ye to wit that the telling it pleaseth me none too well!

'Thou son of high Pendragon, thyself, and thy Breton host,
By thy deed hast thou shamed—From all lands the noblest that they might boast630
Once sat here a gallant circle, but poisoned is now their fame,
And thy Table Round dishonoured by traitor, and brought to shame.
King Arthur, o'er all thy fellows, thy praises of old stood high,
But it sinketh now, thy glory, and thy fame, that did swiftly fly,
Henceforward goeth halting; thine honour doth seek the ground 635
Since it showeth stain of falsehood—The fame of thy Table Round
It suffered for the friendship ye with Parzival did swear,
Tho' I wot well the outward token of a spotless knight he bear.
"The Red Knight" ye here do call him, the name of one who lay
Dead before Nantes, yet I tell thee unlike in their life are they! 640
For no mouth hath read of a hero whose fame knew nor fault nor flaw,
As his!' From the king she turned her, and did rein by the Waleis draw,

And she quoth, 'Now sore shalt thou rue it, since I, for thy sake deny
My greeting unto King Arthur, and the knights of his company.
May thy fair face be dishonoured, and thy manhood I look on here. 645
Of forgiveness and joy were I merchant, in sooth shouldst thou buy them dear!
And I deem thou art but a monster, and myself shall far fairer be!
Speak, Sir Parzival, as I bid thee, and this riddle read thou to me,
When thou sawest the fisher sit there, joyless, of comfort reft,
Why didst thou not loose his sighing? Why was he in bondage left?' 650

'For he showed thee of his sorrow—Oh! thou false and faithless guest,
For hadst thou had pity on him, his anguish had gotten rest.
I would that thy mouth might perish, yea, the tongue thy mouth within,
For e'en as the heart the tongue is, in thine heart is the root of sin.
To Hell shalt thou be predestined, by the Ruler of Heaven high, 655
And this be on earth thy portion, that true men thy face shall fly.
And ban hast thou won for blessing, and for bliss shalt thou find but bale,
For too late dost thou strive for honour, and thy striving shall naught avail.
And so feeble shall wax thy manhood, and thy fame it shall be so weak,
That never shall soul's physician the promise of healing speak. 660
An one to the oath should drive me, on thine head were I fain to swear,
That never a darker treason was wrought by a man so fair.
Thou hook in fair feathers hidden, bright serpent with poisoned fang,
Who ne'er of the sword was worthy, which thine host at thy side did hang!
The goal of thy sins, this thy silence, of Hell's horde art thou now the sport,665
And dishonour upon thy body, Sir Parzival, hast thou wrought.
Saw'st thou not how they bare before thee the Grail, and the bleeding spear,
And sharp silver? Thy joy's destruction, and thy shelter from grief were here!'

'Yea, hadst thou but asked at Monsalväsch; afar, in a heathen land,
Rich o'er all earthly riches, doth the town of Tabronit stand; 670
Yet the riches thy speech had won thee had been greater far, I ween—
And with gallant strife of knighthood the hand of that country's queen
Feirefis Angevin hath won him: no fear doth his manhood stain;
One father, I ween, hath borne ye, yet unlike shall ye be, ye twain.
And thy brother is strange to look on, for both white and black his face,675
And at Zassamank he reigneth o'er the folk of his mother's race.'

'And my thoughts to thy sire are turning; his country was fair Anjou,
And he left thee far other heirdom (for his heart never falsehood knew,)
Than the heritage thou hast won thee, and the crown of an evil fame!
And could I but think thy mother had wrought here a deed of shame 680
I had said that his child thou wert not! Yet her faith it but wrought her woe,
And of her naught but good be spoken! And thy father, as all men know,
In his manhood was true and steadfast, and in many a distant land
He won for him meed of honour, and his praise o'er all men did stand.
For great heart and little falsehood as a roof did defend his breast,685
A dam 'gainst the flood of evil, and a home for his love to rest.
And in manly strength and courage was his honour for aye held fast,
But thy truth it is turned to falsehood, and thine honour to earth is cast!
Alas! for the day I heard it, alas! for the mournful tale,
That the child of fair Herzeleide in knighthood and faith should fail.'690
She herself was the prey of sorrow, and her hands did she wring amain,
While the teardrops they chased each other down her cheeks like a shower of rain.
And her eyes they gave faithful witness to the grief that her bosom filled,
For of true heart she spake, the maiden, nor e'en then was the sorrow stilled.