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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

But the day drew near to its closing, and faint waxed the waning light,
And fair thro' the clouds of heaven gleamed the messengers of the night,
Many stars so bright and golden, who speed on their silent way
When the night would seek for shelter in the realm of departing day;
And after her standard-bearers, with her host doth she swiftly tread— 175
Now many a fair crown golden in the palace hung high o'erhead,
And with tapers they all were lighted around the stately hall,
And they bare unto every table a host of tapers tall;
And yet the story telleth that the Duchess she was so fair,
That ne'er was it night in her presence tho' never a torch were there! 180
For her glance was so bright and radiant it brought of itself the day;
And this tale of fair Orgelusé full oft have I heard men say.
He had spoken, methinks, untruly who said that he e'er had seen
A host so rich and joyous, and joyous his guests, I ween;
And ever with eager gladness each knight and each gentle maid 185
Looked well on each other's faces, nor shrank from the glance afraid.
If friendship they here desirèd, or each other would better know,
Then naught of their joy would I grudge them, methinks it were better so!

Tho' I wot well there none was a glutton, yet still had they ate their fill,
And they bare on one side the tables, and Gawain asked, with right goodwill, 190
If here there should be a fiddler? and many a gallant squire
Was skilled on the strings, and gladly would play at the host's desire,
Yet were they not all too skilful, and the dances were old alway,
Not new, as in fair Thuringia the dances they know to-day.

Then they thanked their host who, joyful, would give to their joy its vent, 195
And many a lovely lady in his presence danced well content,
For goodly their dance to look on, and their ranks, with many a pair
Of knight and lady, mingled, and grief fled from their faces fair.
And oft 'twixt two gentle maidens might be seen a noble knight,
And they who looked well upon them in their faces might read delight. 200
And whatever knight bethought him, and would of his lady pray
Reward, if for love he served her, none said to his pleading Nay.
Thus they who were poor in sorrow, and rich in joy's fairest dower,
With sweet words, by sweet lips spoken, made gladsome the passing hour.

Gawain and the Queen Arnivé, and Sangivé, the dance so fleet 205
Would look on in peace, for they danced not; then the Duchess she took her seat
By the side of Gawain, and her white hand he held in his own a while,
And they spake of this thing and the other, with many a glance and smile;
He rejoiced that she thus had sought him, and his grief it waxed small and faint,
And his joy it grew strong and mighty, nor vexed him with sorrow's plaint. 210
And great was the joy of the lady o'er the dance, and the merry feast,
Yet less was the sorrow of Gawain, and his joy o'er her joy increased.

Then spake the old Queen Arnivé, 'Sir Knight, now methinks 'twere best
That thou get thee to bed, for sorely, I ween, shall thy wounds need rest
Has the Duchess perchance bethought her to care for thy couch this night, 215
And tend thee herself, with such counsel and deed as shall seem her right?'
Quoth Gawain, 'That thyself mayst ask her; I will do as shall please ye twain!'
Then the Duchess she spake in answer, 'He shall in my charge remain.
Let this folk to their couch betake them, I will tend in such sort his rest
That never a loving lady dealt better by gallant guest; 220
And the other twain, my princes, in the care of the knights shall be,
Florand, and the Duke of Gowerzein, for so seemeth it good to me.'

In short space the dance was ended, and the maidens in beauty bright
Sat here and there, and between them sat many a gallant knight;
And joy took her revenge on sorrow, and he who so sweetly spake 225
Words of love, from his gentle lady must a gracious answer take.
Then the host must they hear, as he bade them the cup to the hall to bear,
And the wooers bemoaned his bidding; yet the host he wooed with them here,
And he bare of his love the burden, and the sitting he deemed too long,
For his heart by love's power was tortured with anguish so fierce and strong. 230
And they drank the night-drink, and sadly to each other they bade goodnight,
And the squires they must bear before them full many a taper bright.
And the two gallant guests did Gawain commend to them each and all,
And glad were the knights, and the heroes they led forth from out the hall.
And the Duchess, with gracious kindness, wished fair rest to the princes twain, 235
And then to their sleeping chambers forth wended the maiden train,
And as their fair breeding bade them, at the parting they curtseyed low:
Queen Sangivé and her fair daughters they too to their rest would go.

Then Bené, the maid, and Arnivé, they wrought with a willing hand
That the host he might sleep in comfort, nor the Duchess aside did stand, 240
But she aided the twain, and Gawain was led of the helpers three
To a chamber fair where his slumber that even should joyful be.
Two couches alone did he see there, but no man to me hath told
Of their decking, for other matters, I ween, doth this story hold.

Quoth Arnivé unto the Duchess, 'Now, Lady, think thou how best 245
This knight whom thou broughtest hither, shall beneath this roof-tree rest,
If aid at thine hand he craveth, to grant it shall honour thee;
No more would I say, save this only, his wounds they shall bandaged be
With such skill he might bear his armour—But if he bemoan his grief
Then methinks it were good and fitting that thou bring to his woe relief. 250
If thou wakest anew his courage, then we all in his gladness share—
Now think thou no ill of my counsel, but have for thy knight good care!'
Then the Queen Arnivé left them, (yet leave had she craved before,)
And Bené she bare the taper, and Gawain he made fast the door.

If the twain to their love gave hearing? The tale how should I withhold, 255
I would speak, were it not unseemly that love's secrets aloud be told,
For courtesy doth forbid it; and he who would tell the tale
Worketh ill to himself, o'er love's dealings true hands ever draw the veil.

Now betwixt his love and his lady had the joy of Gawain waxed small,
An the Duchess would have no pity, then healing might ne'er befall. 260
They who sat in the seat of the wise men, and knew many a mystic word,
Kancor, and Thèbit, and Trebuchet, the smith who Frimutel's sword
Once wrought, ('twas a wondrous weapon, and men of its marvels tell)—
Nay, all the skill of physicians, tho' they meant to the hero well
And plied him with roots well mingled—Had a woman ne'er sought his side, 265
Then vain were their skill, in his torment methinks had he surely died!