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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

'Yet o'er thee will I speak my verdict, if thou dwellest anear my heart
Then thy dwelling is not within it, for without shalt thou have thy part. 110
And say thou my love desirest, how hast thou rewarding won?
From the eyes swiftly shoot the glances, yet a sling, when the work is done,
Smiteth gentler than looks which linger on that which doth sorrow wreak,
Thy desire is but empty folly, thou shouldst other service seek!
If thine hand for love's sake shall battle, if adventure hath bidden thee 115
By knighthood win love's rewarding, yet thou winnest it not from me.
Nor honour shall be thy portion, but shame shalt thou win alone—
Now the truth have I spoken unto thee, 'twere best thou shouldst get thee gone!'

Then he quoth, 'Truth thou speakest, Lady, since mine eyes thus mine heart have brought
In danger, for they beheld thee, and thy fetters around me wrought. 120
But now, since I be thy captive, I prithee entreat me well,
Without thine own will hast thou done this, in silence I owned thy spell:
Thou shalt loose me, or thou shalt bind me, for my will it shall be as thine,
And gladly all woes I'ld suffer if so I might call thee mine!'

Then she quoth, 'Yea! so take me with thee, if thou countest upon thy gain, 125
And the love that shall be thy guerdon, thou shalt mourn it in shame and pain.

I would know if a man thou shalt be who bravely for me would fight—
And yet, if thou prize thine honour, thou wilt flee from this strife, Sir Knight!
And should I yet further rede thee, and thou shouldst to my word say yea,
Then seek thou elsewhere a lady—For, if thou my love dost pray, 130
Then joy and fair love's rewarding fall never unto thy share,
But sorrow shall be thy portion if hence I with thee shall fare!'

Then answered Gawain, 'Without service, who thinketh true love to win?
An one did so, then here I tell thee, 'twere counted to him for sin,
For true love ever asketh service, yea after as aye before!' 135
Then she quoth, 'Wilt thou do me service? shame waiteth for thee in store,
Tho' thy life be a life of conflict—No coward as my knight I'll own;
See thou yonder path, 'tis no highway, o'er the bridge doth it wend adown
To the garden, take thou the pathway, for there shalt thou find my steed—
Many folk shalt thou see and shalt hearken, but take thou of their words no heed, 140
Nor stay for their dance or singing, for tambour, or harp, or flute,
But go thou to my horse, and loose it, that I go not with thee afoot!'
Gawain sprang from off his charger—Yet awhile he bethought him well
Where his steed might abide his coming: by the waters that rippling fell
Was no tree unto which to bind it, and he knew not if he this dame 145
Might pray, would she hold his charger till once more with her own he came.
Then she quoth, 'I see well what doth vex thee, thine horse shalt thou leave with me,
I will guard it until thy coming tho' small good shall that be to thee!'

Then Gawain took his horse's bridle, 'Now hold this for me, I pray;'
'Now indeed art thou dull and foolish,' spake the lady, 'where thou dost lay 150
Thine hand, thinkest thou I'll hold it? such deed would beseem me ill!'
Then the love-lorn knight spake gently, for fain would he do her will,
'Further forward I never hold it!' Then she quoth, 'I will hold it there,
And do thou my bidding swiftly, bring my steed and with thee I'll fare;'
Then he thought this a joyful hearing, and straightway he left her side, 155
And over the bridge so narrow to the garden gate he hied;
There saw he many a maiden, and knights so brave and young,
And within that goodly garden so gaily they danced and sung.

And Gawain he was clad so richly, with helmet and harness fair,
That all must bewail his coming for naught but true folk dwelt there. 160
They cared for that lovely garden, on the greensward they stood or lay,
Or sat 'neath the tents whose shadow was cool 'gainst the sunlight's ray.
Yet they ceased not to bemoan him, and to grieve for his sorrow sore,
Yea, man alike and maiden, and in this wise their plaint they bore,
'Alas! that our lady's cunning will to danger this knight betray! 165
Alas! that he fain will follow, for she rideth an evil way.'

And many stepped fair towards him, and their arms around him threw,
And bade him a friendly greeting—to an olive tree he drew,
For the steed was fast beneath it, so rich was its gear, I ween,
That the cost of the goodly trappings full thousand marks had been. 170
And an old knight he stood beside it, well-trimmed was his beard and grey,
And upon a staff he leant him, and salt tears he wept alway.
And the tears, they were shed for Gawain, as he to the steed drew near,
Yet his words of kindly greeting fell soft on the hero's ear.
Then he spake, 'Wilt thou hearken counsel? Lay not on this steed thine hand, 175
And herein shalt thou show thy wisdom—tho' none here thy will withstand,
Yet, indeed, it were best to leave it! Accurst be our lady queen,
For of many a gallant hero, I wot, she the death hath been!'
Yet Gawain he would do her bidding—'Then, alas! for woe draweth near,'
Spake the knight, and he loosed the halter, ''Twere best not to linger here, 180
The steed shalt thou take, and shalt leave us, and may He Who made salt the sea,
In the hour of thy need, and thy peril, thy strength and thy counsel be:
And see thou that our lady's beauty, it bringeth thee not to shame,
She is sour in the midst of sweetness, 'mid the sunlight a shower of rain.'

'God grant it,' then quoth Sir Gawain, and straightway he took his leave 185
Of the old knight and of his comrades and sorely the folk did grieve.
And the horse went a narrow pathway, and it passed thro' the garden gate,
And it crossed o'er the bridge, and he found her who there did his coming wait,
The queen of his heart, and the ruler was she of that land so fair,
Yet altho' his heart fled towards her yet grief thro' her deed it bare. 190

Her hand 'neath her chin soft-rounded had loosened the wimple's fold,
And flung it aback on her head-gear,—(if a woman ye thus behold,
Know ye that for strife she longeth and mischief she hath in mind)—
Would ye know how else she had robed her ye naught in my song shall find,
For how might I tell her raiment and name ye her robes aright, 195
When mine eyes, on her fair face gazing, saw naught but her beauty bright?