And fierce and strong was the heathen, when 'Tabronit,' he cried,
For there, 'neath the mount Kaukasus did the queen, Sekundillé', abide;
Thus gained he afresh high courage 'gainst him who ne'er knew of yore
The weight of such deadly combat, for in sooth was he pressed full sore— 140
To defeat was he aye a stranger, and ne'er had he seen its face,
Tho' his foemen right well must know it, as they yielded them to his grace!
With skill do they wield their weapons, and sparks spring from the helmets fair,
And a whistling wind ariseth as the blades cleave the summer air;
God have Gamuret's son in His keeping! and the prayer it shall stand for both, 145
For the twain shall be one nor, I think me, to own it were either loth.
For had they but known each other their stake ne'er had been so great,
For blessing, and joy, and honour, were risked on that combat's fate,
For he who shall here be victor, if true brother and knight he be,
Of all this world's joy is he forfeit, nor from grief may his heart be free! 150
Sir Parzival, why delay thee to think on thy queen and wife,
Her purity and her beauty, if here thou wouldst save thy life?
For the heathen, he bare two comrades who kindled his strength anew,
The one, in his strong heart, steadfast, lay ever a love so true;
And the other, the precious jewels that burnt with a mystic glow, 155
Thro' whose virtue his strength waxed greater, and his heart must fresh courage know.
And it grieveth me sore that the Christian was weary and faint with fight,
Nor swiftly might he avoid him, and his blows they were robbed of might;
And if the twain fail to aid thee, O thou gallant Parzival,
Thy queen and the Grail, then I think me this thought it shall help thee well, 160
Shall thy fair babes thus young be orphaned? Kardeiss and Lohengrin,
Whom thy wife, e'en as thou didst leave her, for her joy and her hope must win—
For children thus born in wedlock, the pledge of a love so pure,
I ween are a man's best blessing, and a joy that shall aye endure!
New strength did he win, the Christian, and he thought, none too soon, I ween, 165
On his love so true and faithful, on Kondwiramur, his queen,
How he won his wife at the sword's point, when sparks from the helm did spring
'Neath the mighty blows he dealt him, Klamidé, the warrior king.
'Tabronit! and Thasmé!' and above them rung clear his battle-cry,
'Pelrapär!' as aloud he cried it to his aid did his true love fly, 170
O'er kingdoms four she sought him, and her love gave him strength anew,
And lo! from the shield of the heathen the costly splinters flew,
Each one a hundred marks' worth—and the sword so strong and keen
That Ither of Gaheviess bare first brake sheer on the helmet's sheen,
And the stranger, so rich and valiant, he stumbled, and sought his knee— 175
For God, He no longer willed it that Parzival lord should be
Of this weapon of which in his folly he had robbed a gallant knight—
Then up sprang afresh the heathen who ne'er before fell in fight,
Not yet is the combat ended, and the issue for both shall stand
In the power of the God of battles, and their life lieth in His hand! 180
And a gallant knight was the heathen, and he spake out, right courteously,
(Tho' the tongue was the tongue of a heathen yet in fair French his speech should be,)
'Now I see well, thou gallant hero, thou hast no sword wherewith to fight,
And the fame shall be small I win me if I fight with an unarmed knight,
But rest thee awhile from conflict, and tell me who thou shalt be, 185
For the fame that so long I cherished it surely had fallen to thee
Had the blow not thy sword-blade shattered—Now, let peace be betwixt us twain,
And our wearied limbs will we rest here ere we get us to strife again.'
Then down on the grass they sat them, and courteous and brave were they,
Nor too young nor too old for battle—fit foemen they were that day! 190
Then the heathen, he spake to the Christian, 'Believe me, Sir Knight, that ne'er
Did I meet with a man so worthy the crown of such fame to bear
As a knight in strife may win him—Now, I prithee, tell thou to me
Thy name, and thy race, that my journey may here not unfruitful be!
Quoth the son of fair Herzeleide, 'Thro' fear shall I tell my name? 195
For thou askest of me such favour as a victor alone may claim!'
Spake the heathen prince from Thasmé, 'Then that shame shall be mine, I ween,
For first will I speak my title, and the name that mine own hath been;
"Feirefis Angevin" all men call me, and such riches are mine, I trow,
That the folk of full many a kingdom 'neath my sceptre as vassals bow!' 200
Then, e'en as the words were spoken, to the heathen quoth Parzival,
'How shall "Angevin" be thy title, since as heirdom to me it fell,
Anjou, with its folk and its castles, its lands and its cities fair?
Nay, choose thee some other title, if thou, courteous, wouldst hear my prayer!
If thro' thee I have lost my kingdom, and the fair town Béalzenan, 205
Then wrong hadst thou wrought upon me ere ever our strife began!
If one of us twain is an Angevin then by birthright that one am I!—
And yet, of a truth, was it told me, that afar 'neath an Eastern sky,
There dwelleth a dauntless hero, who, with courage and knightly skill,
Such love and such fame hath won him that he ruleth them at his will. 210
And men say, he shall be my brother—and that all they who know his name
Account him a knight most valiant, and he weareth the crown of fame!'
In a little space he spake further, 'If, Sir Knight, I thy face might see,
I should know if the truth were told me, if in sooth thou art kin to me.
Sir Knight, wilt thou trust mine honour, then loosen thine helmet's band, 215
I will swear till once more thou arm thee to stay from all strife mine hand!
Then out he spake, the heathen, 'Of such strife have I little fear,
For e'en were my body naked, my sword, I still hold it here!
Of a sooth must thou be the vanquished, for since broken shall be thy sword
What availeth thy skill in combat keen death from thine heart to ward, 220
Unless, of free will, I spare thee? For, ere thou couldst clasp me round,
My steel, thro' the iron of thy harness, thy flesh and thy bone had found!'
Then the heathen, so strong and gallant, he dealt as a knight so true,
'Nor mine nor thine shall this sword be!' and straight from his hand it flew,
Afar in the wood he cast it, and he quoth, 'Now, methinks, Sir Knight, 225
The chance for us both shall be equal, if further we think to fight!'
Quoth Feirefis, 'Now, thou hero, by thy courteous breeding fair,
Since in sooth thou shalt have a brother, say, what face doth that brother bear?
And tell me here of his colour, e'en as men shall have told it thee.'
Quoth the Waleis, 'As written parchment, both black and white is he, 230
For so hath Ekuba told me.' 'Then that brother am I alway,'
Quoth the heathen—Those knights so gallant, but little they made delay,
But they loosed from their heads the helmet, and they made them of iron bare,
And Parzival deemed that he found there a gift o'er all others fair,
For straightway he knew the other, (as a magpie, I ween, his face,) 235
And hatred and wrath were slain here in a brotherly embrace.
Yea, friendship far better 'seemed them, who owed to one sire their life,
Than anger, methinks, and envy—Truth and Love made an end of strife.