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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

Then Parzival, e'en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the ground;
Humbly he stood before him, as he told how he folk had found
Who had told of the hermit's dwelling, and the counsel he wisely gave,
And he spake, 'I am one who hath sinnèd, and rede at thy lips I crave!'
As he spake the hermit answered,'Right gladly I'll counsel thee, 415
But, say, what folk hast thou met with? Who showed thee thy way to me?
'In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he spake,
And kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to take,
On his track my steed came hither.' Then answered the hermit old,
''Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told. 420
A prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis' king
Hath taken to wife—Fairer maidens no mother to earth did bring
Than those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon thy road,
Of a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode!'

Then Parzival spake to the hermit, 'Now say, when thou saw'st me here,425
Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no touch of fear?'
Quoth the hermit,'Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for stag or bear
Have I feared than I feared a man's face, in sooth shalt thou be aware
I fear me for no man living! Both cunning and skill have I,
And tho' I were loath to vaunt me, yet I ne'er to this life did fly430
For fear, as beseems a maiden! For never my heart did quail
When I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne'er did my courage fail,
In the days when such things became me, in the days when I too might fight,
I was armèd as thou art armèd, like thee did I ride, a knight!
And I strove for high love's rewarding, and many an evil thought 435
With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I wrought
To win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,
And my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no more.'

'Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there 'neath the rocky wall
Thy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall fall, 440
Will gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may be,
Yet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too ill with me!'
But Parzival deemed that surely 'twas unfitting a hermit old
Should thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from his hand withhold,
'Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive 'gainst thine host's good-will,445
Let not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my counsel still.'
In this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did the knight,
And the charger he led 'neath the hillside where but seldom did sun-rays light.
In sooth 'twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed would stall,
And thro' it, from heights o'erhanging, foamed ever a water-fall. 450

The snow lay beneath our hero, no weakling was he, I ween,
Else the frost and the cold of his harness o'er-much for his strength had been.
To a cavern the hermit led him where no breath of wind might blow,
And a fire of coals had warmed it, and burned with a ruddy glow.
And here might the guest refresh him by the fire and a taper's light,455
(Well strewn was the ground with fuel,) then swiftly the gallant knight
Laid from off him his heavy armour, and warmed his limbs so cold,
And his skin in the light glowed ruddy, and his face might the host behold.
He might well be of wandering weary, for never a trodden way
Nor a roof save the stars of heaven had he known for many a day. 460
In the daylight the wood had he ridden, and his couch, it had been the ground:
'Twas well that he here a shelter, and a kindly host had found!

Then his host cast a robe around him, and he took him by his right hand,
And he led him into a cavern where his Missal did open stand.
And as fitted the Holy Season the Altar was stripped and bare; 465
And the shrine—Parzival must know it, 'twas the spot where he once did swear
With true hand, true oath and faithful, that ended Jeschuté's woe,
And turnèd her tears to laughter, and taught her fresh joy to know!

Quoth Parzival, 'Well I know it this chapel and shrine! Of yore,
As hither my wanderings led me, an oath on that shrine I swore; 470
And a spear, with fair colours blazoned, that did here by the altar stand
I bare hence, and in sooth, I think me, right well did it serve my hand!
Men say it much honour brought me, yet I wot not if it be so,
For in thoughts of my wife had I lost me, and naught of the thing I know.
Yet, unwitting, two jousts had I ridden, and two foemen I overthrew,475
In those days all men gave me honour, nor sorrow nor shame I knew.
Now, alas! is my sorrow greater than ever to man befell!
Say, when did I bear the spear hence? The days of my wanderings tell!'

'It was Taurian,' quoth the hermit, 'who his spear in my care did leave,
And much did he mourn its losing, and I with the knight must grieve.480
And four years and a half and three days shall have passed since we lost the spear,
Sir Knight, an my word thou doubtest, behold! it is written here!'
Then he showed unto him in the Psalter how the time it had come and gone,
And the weeks and the years he read him that silent and swift had flown.
And he spake, 'Now first do I learn them, the days that I aimless stray,485
And the weeks and the years that have vanished, since my joy hath been reft away.'
And he spake, 'Now indeed me-seemeth that my bliss it was but a dream,
For heavy the load of sorrow that so long hath my portion been!'

'And, Sir Host, I yet more would tell thee, where cloister or church shall be
And men unto God give honour, there no eye hath looked on me, 490
And naught but strife have I sought me, tho' the time as thou sayst be long,
For I against God bear hatred, and my wrath ever waxeth strong.
For my sorrow and shame hath He cherished, and He watched them greater grow
Till too high they waxed, and my gladness, yet living, He buried low!
And I think were God fain to help me other anchor my joy had found 495
Than this, which so deep hath sunk it, and with sorrow hath closed it round.
A man's heart is mine, and sore wounded, it acheth, and acheth still,
Yet once was it glad and joyous, and free from all thought of ill!
Ere sorrow her crown of sorrow, thorn-woven, with stern hand pressed
On the honour my hand had won me o'er many a foeman's crest! 500
And I do well to lay it on Him, the burden of this my shame,
Who can help if He will, nor withholdeth the aid that men fain would claim,
But me alone, hath He helped not, whate'er men of Him may speak,
But ever He turneth from me, and His wrath on my head doth wreak!'

Then the hermit beheld him sighing, 'Sir Knight, thou shalt put away505
Such madness, and trust God better, for His help will He never stay.
And His aid to us here be given, yea, alike unto me and thee.
But' twere best thou shouldst sit beside me, and tell here thy tale to me,
And make to me free confession—How first did this woe begin?
What foe shall have worked such folly that God should thine hatred win?510
Yet first would I pray thee, courteous, to hearken the word I say,
For fain would I speak Him guiltless, ere yet thou thy plaint shall lay
'Gainst Him, Who denieth never unto sinful man His aid,
But ever hath answered truly, who truly to Him hath prayed.'

'Tho' a layman I was yet ever in books might I read and learn 515
How men, for His help so faithful, should ne'er from His service turn.
Since aid He begrudged us never, lest our soul unto Hell should fall,
And as God Himself shall be faithful, be thou faithful whate'er befall;
For false ways He ever hateth—and thankful we aye should be
When we think of the deed, so gracious, once wrought of His love so free!520
For our sake the Lord of Heaven in the likeness of man was made,
And Truth is His name, and His nature, nor from Truth shall He e'er have strayed.
And this shalt thou know most surely, God breaketh His faith with none.
Teach thy thoughts ne'er from Him to waver, since Himself and His ways are One!'