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

by von Eschenbach Wolfram

I know not how many stages queen Kondwiramur had made
On her journey towards Monsalväsch, nor, joyful, her steps delayed,
For already the truth had been told her, and a messenger tidings bare, 165
And she knew that her grief was ended and her gladness had blossomed fair.
And led by her uncle, Kiot, and by many a hero bold,
Had she come unto Terre de Salväsch and the wood where they fought of old;
Where in joust Segramor had fallen, and her lord did her likeness know
In the threefold blood-drops mystic, on the white of the drifted snow. 170
And there should Parzival seek her, and tho' toilsome and rough the way
Yet never a gladder journey had he ridden than he rode that day!

Then a Templar tidings brought him, 'E'en as doth her rank beseem
Full many a knight so courteous rideth hither beside the queen.'
Then Parzival bethought him, with the knights of the Holy Grail 175
To Trevrezent did he ride first, and he told him the wondrous tale;
From his heart was the hermit joyful that it thus with Anfortas stood,
Nor death was his lot, but the question brought rest to the hero good.
And he quoth, 'Yea, God's power is mighty—Who doth at His Council sit?
Who hath known of His strength the limit? What Angel hath fathomed it? 180
God is Man, and the Word of His Father; God is Father at once and Son,
And I wot thro' His Spirit's working may succour and aid be won!'

Then Trevrezent quoth to his nephew, 'Greater marvel I ne'er may see
Than that thou by thy wrath hast won blessing, and th' Eternal Trinity
Hath given thee thy desiring! Yet aforetime in sooth I lied, 185
For I thought from the Grail to bring thee, and the truth I from thee would hide.
Do thou for my sin give me pardon, henceforth I thy hand obey,
O my king, and son of my sister!—Methinks that I once did say
That the spirits cast forth from Heaven thereafter the Grail did tend
By God's will, and besought His favour, till their penance at last did end. 190
But God to Himself is faithful, and ne'er doth He changing know,
Nor to them whom I named as forgiven did He ever forgiveness show.
For they who refuse His service, He Himself will, I ween, refuse,
And I wot they are lost for ever, and that fate they themselves did choose.
And I mourned for thy fruitless labour, for ne'er did the story stand 195
That the Grail might by man be conquered, and I fain had withheld thine hand;
But with thee hath the chance been other, and thy prize shall the highest be,
But since God's Hand doth give It to thee, turn thine heart to humility.'

Quoth Parzival to his uncle, 'I would see her I ne'er might see
For well-nigh five years—When together we dwelt she was dear to me, 200
And no whit less dear shall she now be! Yet thy counsel I fain would hear
So long as death fail to part us, thou didst help me in need so drear!
Now I ride to my wife, since she cometh to meet me upon my way,
By Plimizöl's banks doth she wait me, and leave I from thee would pray.'

And the good man bade 'God speed him,' and he rode thro' the dusky night, 205
And his men knew the woodland pathways—In the early morning light
He found that which brought him gladness; full many a tent stood fair,
From out the kingdom of Brobarz many banners were planted there,
With many a shield beneath them—there lay princes from out his land,
And Parzival fain would ask them where the tent of the queen might stand? 210
If her camp lay apart from the others? Then they showed him where she should be,
And a goodly ring around her of tents did the hero see.
And Duke Kiot of Katelangen, he had risen ere dawn of day,
And he looked on the band of riders who came by the woodland way.

And tho' grey was the light of the morning, yet, as the host nearer drew, 215
Kiot saw the Dove on their armour, and the arms of the Grail he knew;
And the old man sighed as he thought him of Schoysiané, his lovely bride,
How he won her in bliss at Monsalväsch, and how she untimely died.
Towards Parzival he stepped him, and he bade him a greeting fair;
By a page he bade the queen's Marshal a lodging meet prepare 220
For the knights who had there drawn bridle—in sooth 'twas a gallant band—
Then to the queen's dressing-chamber he led Parzival by the hand,
('Twas a small tent made of buckram,) and there, in the waxing light,
His harness they take from off him ere he pass to his lady's sight.

And the queen she knew naught of his coming—her twin sons beside her lay, 225
Lohengrin and Kardeiss; and their father, methinks he was glad that day!
There he found them slumbering sweetly, in a tent both high and wide,
And many a lovely lady lay sleeping on either side.
Then Kiot, he drew the covering from the queen, and he bade her wake,
And look, and laugh, and be joyful, and her love to her arms to take; 230
And she looked up and saw her husband; and naught but her smock she bare,
The covering she wrapt around her, and sprang swift on the carpet fair,
Kondwiramur, the lovely lady—and Parzival held her tight,
And they say that they kissed each other, the queen and her faithful knight.
'Thou joy of my heart! Good Fortune hath sent thee again to me,' 235
She quoth, and she bade him welcome, 'Now in sooth I should wrathful be,
Yet have I no heart for anger! Ah! blest be the dawn and the day
That this dear embrace hath brought me, which all sorrow must drive away.
For now at last have I found thee, whom my heart hath desired so long,
And grief in my heart is vanquished, and sighing is turned to song.' 240

And now from their sleep they wakened, both Lohengrin and Kardeiss,
Naked they lay on their pillows, and fair in their father's eyes,
And, joyful, Parzival kissed them whom he never had seen before—
Then at Kiot's courteous bidding the babes from the tent they bore,
And Kiot, he bade the maidens to get them from out the tent, 245
And they greeted their lord, long absent, ere yet on their way they went.
Then he bade the queen care for her husband, and the maidens from thence he led,
And the curtains they drew together, for as yet was the night scarce sped.

Now if blood and snow had robbed him of his senses and wit of yore,
(In this self-same spot its message the snow to his true heart bore,) 250
For such sorrow she well repaid him, Kondwiramur, his wife—
Nor elsewhere had he sought love's solace in payment for love's fierce strife,
Tho' many their love had proffered—I ween that in bliss he lay,
And converse sweet, till morning drew nigh to the middle day.

And the army, they rode together, on the Templars had they gazed, 255
And their shields in jousts were piercèd, and with many a sword-blow grazed;
And each knight he wore a surcoat of silk or of velvet rare,
And their feet were shod with iron, nor harness beside they bare.