TREVREZENT
'Ope the portal!' 'To whom? Who art thou?' 'In thine heart would I find a place!'
'Nay! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be the space!'
'What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my presence be,
Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels I'll tell to thee!'
Is it thou, then, O Dame Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival, 5
What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the Grail
Hath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens fair
That the path of his far wayfarings the knight from their side must bear.
So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide to-day?
Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray?10
Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft,
Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left?
His renown is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin?
Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win.
Hath he seen once again Monsalväsch, and Anfortas, the mournful king,15
Whose heart was with sorrow laden? Of thy pity swift comfort bring,
And say if his woe be ended—Speak, speak for we tidings pray
Of him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day?
Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret's son,
And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done?20
Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe?
He hath striven, but rides he ever thro' the wide world nor rest doth know?
Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o'er-long at ease?
I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please!
And this hath the venture told me—He hath ridden many a land, 25
And hath sailèd many a water; and ever, before his hand,
Were he man of the land or kinsman who would joust with him, he fell,
Nor abode his mighty onslaught, and all men of his praises tell.
And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe must lie,
'Twas outweighed by his fame, and his glory uprose to the stars on high,30
And all others paled before it—In many a mighty strife
With sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his life.
And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they paid full dear—
The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear,
Sprang asunder onewhile, yet 'twas welded afresh in the mystic spring35
By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring!
Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tell
How adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,
(But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,)
When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight, 40
And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er the brooklet's wave
Then in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave,
Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led.
But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped,
For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth,45
And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.
For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love,
Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above.
Tho' but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass,
All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her days she'ld pass.50
And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade,
And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.
Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die,
And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly.
And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had Lunete braved55
Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave.
And today may we look upon women, who never a willing ear
Had turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear.
For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone,
And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own,60
But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true,
Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new!
And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair!
And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear.
Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide,65
Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!
Shall I joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Siguné brought?
Nay, 'twere better I speak not of it—O'er rough stones, and a road unwrought
Rode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too near).
He would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its windings hear.70
And he thought him, perchance, the hermit might tell of the unknown way,
'Doth one dwell here?' the voice of a maiden it was that made answer,'Yea!'
As he knew 'twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his steed aside
On the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too near did ride,
And sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt 75
Within such a lowly dwelling, and shame, as was meet, he felt.
Then his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a fallen tree,
And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous knight was he.
Then he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place and road,
And the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as 'seemed grief's abode.80
He spake, would she come to the window? and the maiden from prayer arose,
She was tall as a virgin lily, and pale as a faded rose,
And he deemed not as yet that he knew her—A shirt woven rough of hair,
Next her skin, 'neath a flowing garment of grey, did the maiden wear,
And sorrow was her heart's treasure, and fallen her courage high, 85
And the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in many a sigh!
Then the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did she courteous greet,
In her hand did she hold her psalter, and her voice it was low and sweet.
And Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of a ring of gold,
For truly she bare the token she won from true love of old. 90
And the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose slumbering light
Flashed red mid the dusky shadows, as mid ashes the sparks glow bright.
And the band that her head encircled was black as a mourning band—
Then she spake, 'Sir Knight, 'neath the window a bench shalt thou see to stand,
Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey will brook delay,95
God reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me this day!'
Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat 'neath the window small,
And he prayed her, 'Sit thou within there!' 'Nay! ne'er did such chance befall
That here by a man I sat me!' Then he asked her, what did she here?
That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in this desert drear100
Seemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt thou live,
Since no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give?'