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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

But yet tho' his wounds they pained him, his sorrow had taken flight
When he looked upon Orgelusé, so fair was her mien and bright. 270
Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt win me a garland of fresh leaves from off a tree,
And I for the gift will praise thee—If thou doest this deed for me
Thou shalt find in my love rewarding!' Then he quoth, 'Wheresoe'er it stand,
The tree that shall bring such blessing as reward unto this mine hand,
If I not in vain bemoan me, but win hearing for this my grief, 275
Then thy garland, tho' death it bring me, shall lack not a single leaf!'

And tho' many a blossom bloomed there yet their colour it was as naught
To the colour of Orgelusé, and Gawain on her beauty thought
Till it seemed him his grief of aforetime and his anguish had fled away—
And thus with her guest did she journey a space from the Burg that day, 280
And the road it was straight and easy, and it led thro' a forest fair,
And Tamris I ween and Prisein were the names that the trees did bear,
And the lord of the wood was Klingsor—Then Gawain the hero spake,
'Say, where shall that garland blossom which the spell of my grief shalt break?'

(In sooth he had best o'erthrown her, as oft shall have chanced I trow 285
To many a lovely lady.) Then she quoth, 'Thou shalt see the bough
Whose plucking shall win thee honour!' O'er the field ran a deep ravine,
And so near did they ride to the chasm that the tree from afar was seen.
Then she quoth, 'Now, Sir Knight, one guardeth that tree who my joy hath slain,
If thou bring me a bough from off it, no hero such prize shall gain 290
As from me shall be thy rewarding! And here must I hold my way,
Nor further may I ride with thee; but make thou no more delay,
God have thee in His safe keeping! Thine horse must thou straightway bring
To the gulf, and with sure hand urge it o'er the Perilous Ford to spring.'

So still on the plain she held her, and on rode the gallant knight, 295
And he hearkened the rush of water that had riven a path with might
Thro' the plain—it was deep as a valley, and no man its waves might ford;
Then Gawain spurred his steed towards it, and he sprung o'er the flood so broad,
And yet but the charger's fore-feet might light on the further side,
And they fell in the foaming torrent; and the lady in anguish cried, 300
For swift and wide was the water; yet Gawain he had strength enow,
Tho' heavy the weight of his armour, for he saw where there grew a bough
That hung o'er the foaming torrent, and he grasped it, for life was dear,
And he gained on the bank a footing, and he drew from the waves his spear.

Up and down the stream swam the charger, and Gawain to its aid would go, 305
Yet so swift was the rush of the water he followed with pain its flow,
For heavy I ween his harness, and his wounds they were deep and sore:
Then he stretched out his spear as a whirlpool bare the charger towards the shore—
For the rain and the rush of the waters had broken a passage wide,
And the bank at the place was shelving, and the steed swept towards the side— 310
And he caught with the spear its bridle, and drew it towards the land
Till the hero at last might reach it and lay on the rein his hand.

And Gawain, the gallant hero, drew his horse out upon the plain,
And the steed shook itself in safety, nor the torrent as prize might gain
The shield—Then he girt his charger, and the shield on his arm he took: 315
And if one weepeth not for his sorrow methinks I the lack may brook,
Tho' in sooth was he in sore peril—For love he the venture dared,
For the fair face of Orgelusé, his hand to the bough he bared.
And I wot, 'twas a gallant journey, and the tree it was guarded well,
He was one, were he twain, for that garland his life must the payment tell. 320
King Gramoflanz, he would guard it, yet Gawain he would pluck the bough.
The water, men called it Sabbins, and the tribute was harsh enow
That Gawain would fetch when both charger and knight did the wild waves breast.
Tho' the lady was fair, I had wooed not! To shun her methinks were best.

When Gawain erst the bough had broken and its leaves in his helm did wave, 325
Uprode a knight towards him, and his bearing was free and brave.
Nor too few were his years nor too many; and in this he his pride had shown,
What evil so e'er befell him he fought not with one alone,
Two or more must they be, his foemen! So high beat his gallant heart,
That whate'er one might do to harm him unscathed might he thence depart. 330
To Gawain this son of King Irôt a fair 'good-morrow' gave,
'Twas King Gramoflanz—'To the garland that doth there in thine helmet wave
I yield not my claim!' thus quoth he, 'Sir Knight, were ye two I trow,
Who here for high honour seeking had reft from my tree a bough,
I had greeted ye not, but had fought ye, but since thou alone shalt be, 335
Thou canst ride hence, for strife unequal I deem it a shame to me!'

And Gawain, too, was loth to fight him, for no armour the king did wear,
And naught but a yearling falcon he did on his white hand bear.
(And the sister of Gawain gave it, Itonjé the maid was hight.)
His headgear in Sinzester fashioned was of peacock's plumage bright, 340
And green as grass was the mantle of velvet that wrapped him round,
And with ermine lined, and on each side it swept even unto the ground.

None too tall yet strong was the charger on which the king did ride,
From Denmark by land they brought it, or it came o'er the waters wide.
And the monarch he rode unarmèd, nor even a sword would bear. 345
Quoth King Gramoflanz, 'Thou hast foughten, if thy shield may the truth declare,
For but little unharmed remaineth, and it seemeth sure to me
That the "Lit Merveil" was thy portion, and this venture hath fallen to thee!'

'Now hast thou withstood the peril that myself I were fain to dare,
Had not Klingsor been ever friendly, and warfare with her my share 350
Who in Love's strife is ever victor, since her beauty doth win the day;
And she beareth fierce wrath against me, and in sooth hath she cause alway!
Eidegast have I slain, her husband, and with him I slew heroes four;
Orgelusé herself, as my captive, I thence to my kingdom bore,
And my crown and my land would I give her, yet what service my hand might yield, 355