Produced by Richard Tonsing, The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of public domain material from the Google Print project.) PARZIVAL VOL. I BOOKS I.-IX. PARZIVAL A KNIGHTLY EPIC BY WOLFRAM VON ESCHENBACH TRANSLATED BY JESSIE L. WESTON VOL. I ANASTATIC REPRINT OF THE EDITION LONDON 1894. NEW YORK G. E. STECHERT & CO., 1912. TO THE MEMORY OF RICHARD WAGNER WHOSE GENIUS HAS GIVEN FRESH LIFE TO THE CREATIONS OF MEDIÆVAL ROMANCE THIS TRANSLATION IS DEDICATED CONTENTS BOOK PAGE INTRODUCTION ix I. GAMURET 1 II. HERZELEIDE 33 III. GURNEMANZ 63 IV. KONDWIRAMUR 101 V. ANFORTAS 127 VI. ARTHUR 157 VII. OBILOT 193 VIII. ANTIKONIE 227 IX. TREVREZENT 249 APPENDICES 289 NOTES 299 INTRODUCTION In presenting, for the first time, to English readers the greatest work of Germany's greatest mediæval poet, a few words of introduction, alike for poem and writer, may not be out of place. The lapse of nearly seven hundred years, and the changes which the centuries have worked, alike in language and in thought, would have naturally operated to render any work unfamiliar, still more so when that work was composed in a foreign tongue; but, indeed, it is only within the present century that the original text of the _Parzival_ has been collated from the MSS. and made accessible, even in its own land, to the general reader. But the interest which is now felt by many in the Arthurian romances, quickened into life doubtless by the genius of the late Poet Laureate, and the fact that the greatest composer of our time, Richard Wagner, has selected this poem as the groundwork of that wonderful drama, which a growing consensus of opinion has hailed as the grandest artistic achievement of this century, seem to indicate that the time has come when the work of Wolfram von Eschenbach may hope to receive, from a wider public than that of his own day, the recognition which it so well deserves. Of the poet himself we know but little, save from the personal allusions scattered throughout his works; the dates of his birth and death are alike unrecorded, but the frequent notices of contemporary events to be found in his poems enable us to fix with tolerable certainty the period of his literary activity, and to judge approximately the outline of his life. Wolfram's greatest work, the _Parzival_, was apparently written within the early years of the thirteenth century; he makes constant allusions to events happening, and to works produced, within the first decade of that period; and as his latest work, the _Willehalm_, left unfinished, mentions as recent the death of the Landgrave Herman of Thuringia, which occurred in 1216, the probability seems to be that the _Parzival_ was written within the first fifteen years of the thirteenth century. Inasmuch, too, as this work bears no traces of immaturity in thought or style, it is probable that the date of the poet's birth cannot be placed much later than 1170. The name, Wolfram von Eschenbach, points to Eschenbach in Bavaria as in all probability the place of his birth, as it certainly was of his burial. So late as the end of the seventeenth century his tomb, with inscription, was to be seen in the Frauen-kirche of Ober-Eschenbach, and the fact that within a short distance of the town are to be found localities mentioned in his poems, such as Wildberg, Abenberg, Trühending, Wertheim, etc., seems to show that there, too, the life of the poet-knight was spent. By birth, as Wolfram himself tells us, he belonged to the knightly order (Zum Schildesamt bin Ich geboren), though whether his family was noble or not is a disputed point, in any case Wolfram was a poor man, as the humorous allusions which he makes to his poverty abundantly testify. Yet he does not seem to have led the life of a wandering singer, as did his famous contemporary, Walther von der Vogelweide; if Wolfram journeyed, as he probably did, it was rather in search of knightly adventures, he tells us: 'Durchstreifen muss Der Lande viel, Wer Schildesamt verwalten will,' and though fully conscious of his gift of song, yet he systematically exalts his office of _knight_ above that of _poet_. The period when Wolfram lived and sang, we cannot say _wrote_, for by his own confession he could neither read nor write ('I'ne kan decheinen buochstap,' he says in _Parzival_; and in _Willehalm_, 'Waz an den buochen steht geschrieben, Des bin Ich kunstelos geblieben'), and his poems must, therefore, have been orally dictated, was one peculiarly fitted to develop his special genius. Under the rule of the Hohenstaufen the institution of knighthood had reached its highest point of glory, and had not yet lapsed into the extravagant absurdities and unrealities which characterised its period of decadence; and the Arthurian romances which first found shape in Northern France had just passed into Germany, there to be gladly welcomed, and to receive at the hands of German poets the impress of an ethical and philosophical interpretation foreign to their original form. It was in these romances that Wolfram, in common with other of his contemporaries, found his chief inspiration; in the _Parzival_, his master-work, he has told again the story of the Quest for, and winning of, the Grail; told it in connection with the Perceval legend, through the medium of which, it must be remembered, the spiritualising influence of the Grail myth first came into contact with the brilliant chivalry and low morality of the original Arthurian romances; and told it in a manner that is as truly mediæval in form as it is modern in interpretation. The whole poem is instinct with the true knightly spirit; it has been well called _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_, the knightly song of songs, for Wolfram has seized not merely the external but the very soul of knighthood, even as described in our own day by another German poet; Wolfram's ideal knight, in his fidelity to his plighted word, his noble charity towards his fellow-man, lord of the Grail, with Its civilising, humanising influence, is a veritable 'true knight of the Holy Ghost.' In a short introduction such as this it is impossible to discuss with any fulness the fascinating problems connected with this poem, one can do no more than indicate where the principal difficulties lie. These may be briefly said to be chiefly connected with the source from which Wolfram derived his poem, and with the interpretation of its ethical meaning. That Wolfram drew from a French source we know from his own statement, he quotes as his authority a certain 'Kiot the Provençal,' who, in his turn, found his information in an Arabian MS. at Toledo. Unfortunately no such poet, and no such poem, are known to us, while we do possess a French version of the story, _Li Conte del Graal_, by Chrêtien de Troyes, which, so far as the greater part of the poem (_i.e._ Books III. to XIII.) is concerned, shows a remarkable agreement not only in sequence of incidents, but even in verbal correspondence, with Wolfram's work. Chrêtien, however, does not give either the first two or the last three books as we find them in Wolfram. The account of Perceval's father, and of his death, is by another hand than Chrêtien's, and does not agree with Wolfram's account; and the poem, left unfinished by Chrêtien, has been continued and concluded at great length by at least three other writers, who have evidently drawn from differing sources; whereas Wolfram's conclusion agrees closely with his introduction, and his whole poem forms the most harmonious and complete version of the story we possess. Wolfram knew Chrêtien's poem, but refers to it with contempt as being the wrong version of the tale, whereas 'Kiot' had told the venture aright. The question then is, where did Wolfram really find those portions of his poems which he _could not_ have drawn from Chrêtien? Is 'Kiot' a real, or a feigned, source? Some German critics have opined that Wolfram really knew no other poem than Chrêtien's, and that he boldly invented all that he did not find there, feigning another source in order to conceal the fact. Others have maintained that whether 'Kiot' be the name of the writer or not, Wolfram certainly had before him a French poem other than _Li Conte del Graal_. It certainly seems in the highest degree improbable that a _German_ poet should have introduced the Angevin element, lacking in Chrêtien; Wolfram's presentment of the Grail, too, differs _in toto_ from any we find elsewhere, with him it is not the cup of the Last Supper, but a precious stone endowed with magical qualities. It is true that Chrêtien does not say _what_ the Grail was, but simply that '_du fin or esmeree estoit, pieres pressieuses avoit el graal de maintes manieres_,' yet it seems scarcely likely that Wolfram should have interpreted this as a precious stone, to say nothing of sundry Oriental features peculiar to his description. But whence Wolfram derived his idea of the Grail is a problem which it is to be feared will never now be completely solved. The discussion as to the ethical meaning Wolfram attached to the story seems more hopeful of results, as here we do possess the requisite data, and can study the poem for ourselves. The question between critics is whether Wolfram intended to teach a purely religious lesson or not; whether the poem is an allegory of life, and Parzival a symbol of the Soul of man, hovering between Faith and Doubt, perplexed by the apparent injustice of God's dealings with men, and finally fighting its way through the darkness of despair to the clear light of renewed faith in God; or have we here a glorification of the knightly ideal? a declaration of the poet-knight's belief that in loyal acceptance of, and obedience to, the dictates of the knightly order, salvation is to be won? Can the true knight, even though he lack faith in God, yet by keeping intact his faith with man, by very loyalty and steadfastness of purpose, win back the spiritual blessing forfeited by his youthful folly? Is Parzival one of those at whose hands 'the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence'? It may well be that _both_ these interpretations are, in a measure, true, that Wolfram found the germ of the religious idea already existing in his French source, but that to the genius of the German poet we owe that _humanising_ of the ideal which has brought the _Parzival_ into harmony with the best aspirations of men in all ages. This, at least, may be said with truth, that of all the romances of the Grail cycle, there is but one which can be presented, in its entirety, to the world of to-day with the conviction that its morality is as true, its human interest as real, its lesson as much needed now as it was seven hundred years ago, and that romance is the _Parzival_ of Wolfram von Eschenbach. Some words as to the form of the original poem, and the method followed in translation, may be of interest to the reader. The original _Parzival_ is a poem of some 25,000 lines, written in an irregular metre, every two lines rhyming, _reim-paar_. Among modern German translators considerable difference of opinion as to the best method of rendering the original appears to exist. Simrock has retained the original form, and adheres very closely to the text; his version certainly gives the most accurate idea of Wolfram's style; San Marte has allowed himself considerable freedom in versification, and, unfortunately, also in translation; in fact, he too often gives a paraphrase rather than a reproduction of the text. Dr. Bötticher's translation omits the Gawain episodes, and, though close to the original, has discarded rhyme. It must be admitted that Wolfram is by no means easy to translate, his style is obscure and crabbed, and it is often difficult to interpret his meanings with any certainty. The translator felt that the two points chiefly to be aimed at in an English version were, that it should be faithful to the original text, and easy to read. The metre selected was chosen for several reasons, principally on account of the length of the poem, which seemed to render desirable a more flowing measure than the short lines of the original; and because by selecting this metre it was possible to retain the original form of _reim-paar_. As a general rule one line of the English version represents two of the German poem, but the difference of language has occasionally demanded expansion in order to do full justice to the poet's meaning. Throughout, the translator's aim has been to be as literal as possible, and where the differing conventionalities of the thirteenth and nineteenth centuries have made a change in the form of expression necessary, the _meaning_ of the poet has been reproduced, and in no instance has a different _idea_ been consciously suggested. That there must of necessity be many faults and defects in the work the writer is fully conscious, but in the absence of any previous English translation she can only hope that the present may be accepted as a not altogether inadequate rendering of a great original; if it should encourage others to study that original for themselves, and learn to know Wolfram von Eschenbach, while at the same time they learn better to understand Richard Wagner, she will feel herself fully repaid. * * * * * The translator feels that it may be well to mention here the works which have been principally relied on in preparing the English translation and the writers to whom she is mostly indebted. For the Text Bartsch's edition of the original _Parzival_, published in _Deutsche Classiker des Mittelalters_, has been used throughout, in connection with the modern German translation by Simrock. In preparing the Notes use has been made of Dr. Bötticher's Introduction to his translation of the _Parzival_, and the same writer's _Das Hohelied von Rittertum_; San Marte's translation has also been occasionally referred to. The Appendix on proper names has been mainly drawn up from Bartsch's article on the subject in _Germanistische Studien_; and that on the Angevin allusions from Miss Norgate's _England under the Angevin Kings_, though the statements have been verified by reference to the original chronicles. For all questions connected with the Perceval legend in its varying forms the authority consulted has been _Studies on the Legend of the Holy Grail_, by Mr. Alfred Nutt, to whom, personally, the translator is indebted for much valuable advice and assistance in preparing this book for publication. BOOK I GAMURET ARGUMENT In the Introduction the poet tells of the evil of doubt and unsteadfastness--against which he would warn both men and women; he will tell them a tale which shall speak of truth and steadfastness, and in which many strange marvels shall befall. Book I. tells how Gamuret of Anjou at the death of his father, King Gandein, refused to become his brother's vassal, and went forth to seek fame and love-guerdon for himself. How he fought under the Baruch before Alexandria, and came to Patelamunt. How Queen Belakané was accused of having caused the death of her lover Eisenhart, and was besieged by two armies, which Friedebrand, King of Scotland, Eisenhart's uncle, had brought against her. How Gamuret defeated her foemen, and married the Queen, and became King of Assagog and Zassamank. How he grew weary for lack of knightly deeds, and sailed away in secret from Queen Belakané, and left her a letter telling of his name and race. How Feirifis was born, and how Gamuret came to Seville. BOOK I GAMURET If unfaith in the heart find dwelling, then the soul it shall reap but woe; And shaming alike and honour are his who such doubt shall show, For it standeth in evil contrast with a true man's dauntless might, As one seeth the magpie's plumage, which at one while is black and white. And yet he may win to blessing; since I wot well that in his heart, 5 Hell's darkness, and light of Heaven, alike have their lot and part But he who is false and unsteadfast, he is black as the darkest night, And the soul that hath never wavered stainless _its_ hue and white! This my parable so fleeting too swift for the dull shall be, Ere yet they may seize its meaning from before their face 'twill flee, 10 As a hare that a sound hath startled: yea, metal behind the glass, And a blind man's dream yield visions that as swift from the eye do pass, For naught shall they have that endureth! And at one while 'tis bright and sad, And know of a truth that its glory but for short space shall make ye glad. And what man shall think to grip me, where no hair for his grasp shall grow, 15 In the palm of mine hand? The mystery of a close clasp he sure doth know! If I cry aloud in such peril, it 'seemeth my wisdom well. Shall I look for truth where it fleeteth? In the fire that the stream doth quell, Or the dew that the sun doth banish? Ne'er knew I a man so wise, But was fain to learn the wisdom my fable doth ill disguise, 20 And the teaching that springeth from it: for so shall he ne'er delay To fly and to chase as shall fit him, to shun and to seek alway, And to give fitting blame and honour. He who knoweth the twain to tell, In their changing ways, then wisdom has tutored that man right well. And he sits not o'er-long at leisure, nor his goal doth he overreach, 25 But in wisdom his ways discerning, he dealeth with all and each. But his comrade, of heart unfaithful, in hell-fire shall his portion be, Yea, a hailstorm that dims the glory of a knightly fame is he. As a short tail it is, his honour, that but for two bites holds good, When the steer by the gad-fly driven doth roam thro' the lonely wood. 30 And tho' manifold be my counsel not to _men_ alone I'ld speak, For fain would I show to women the goal that their heart should seek. And they who shall mark my counsel, they shall learn where they may bestow Their praise and their maiden honour; and the manner of man shall know Whom they freely may love and honour, and never may fear to rue 35 Their maidenhood, and the true love they gave him of heart so true. In God's sight I pray all good women to keep them in wisdom's way, For true shame on all sides doth guard them: such bliss I for them would pray. But the false heart shall win false honour--How long doth the thin ice last, If the sun shineth hot as in August? So their praise shall be soon o'erpast. 40 Many women are praised for beauty; if at heart they shall be untrue, Then I praise them as I would praise it, the glass of a sapphire hue That in gold shall be set as a jewel! Tho' I hold it an evil thing, If a man take a costly ruby, with the virtue the stone doth bring, And set it in worthless setting: I would liken such costly stone 45 To the heart of a faithful woman, who true womanhood doth own. I would look not upon her colour, nor the heart's roof all men can see, If the heart beateth true beneath it, true praise shall she win from me! Should I speak of both man and woman as I know, nor my skill should fail, O'er-long would it be my story. List ye now to my wonder-tale: 50 And this venture it telleth tidings of love, and anon of woe, Joy and sorrow it bringeth with it. 'Stead of _one_ man if _three_ ye know, And each one of the three hath wisdom and skill that outweigh my skill, Yet o'erstrange shall they find the labour, tho' they toil with a right good-will To tell ye this tale, which I think me to tell ye myself, alone, 55 And worn with their task and weary would they be ere the work was done. A tale I anew will tell ye, that speaks of a mighty love; Of the womanhood of true women; how a man did his manhood prove; Of one that endured all hardness, whose heart never failed in fight, Steel he in the face of conflict: with victorious hand of might 60 Did he win him fair meed of honour; a brave man yet slowly wise Is he whom I hail my hero! The delight he of woman's eyes, Yet of woman's heart the sorrow! 'Gainst all evil his face he set; Yet he whom I thus have chosen my song knoweth not as yet, For not yet is he born of whom men this wondrous tale shall tell, 65 And many and great the marvels that unto this knight befell. NOW they do to-day as of old time, where a foreign law holds sway (Yea, in part of our German kingdom, as ye oft shall have heard men say), Whoever might rule that country, 'twas the law, and none thought it shame ('Tis the truth and no lie I tell ye) that the elder son might claim 70 The whole of his father's heirdom--And the younger sons must grieve, What was theirs in their father's lifetime, they perforce at his death must leave. Before, all was theirs in common, now it fell unto one alone. So a wise man planned in his wisdom, that the eldest the lands should own, For youth it hath many a fair gift, but old age knoweth grief and pain, 75 And he who is poor in his old age an ill harvest alone doth gain. Kings, Counts, Dukes (and no lie I tell ye) the law holdeth all as one, And no man of them all may inherit, save only the eldest son, And methinks 'tis an evil custom--So the knight in his youthful pride, Gamuret, the gallant hero, lost his Burg, and his fair lands wide, 80 Where his father had ruled with sceptre and crown as a mighty king, Till knighthood, and lust of battle, to his death did the monarch bring. And all men were sore for his sorrow, who truth and unbroken faith Bare ever throughout his lifetime, yea even unto his death. Then the elder son he summoned the princes from out his land, 85 And knightly they came, who rightly might claim from their monarch's hand, To hold, as of yore, their fiefdoms. So came they unto his hall, And the claim of each man he hearkened, and gave fiefs unto each and all. Now hear how they dealt--As their true heart it bade them, both great and small, They made to their king petition, with one voice from the people all, 90 That to Gamuret grace and favour he would show with true brother's hand, And honour himself in the doing. That he drive him not from the land But give him, within his kingdom, a fair Burg that all men might see, That he take from that Burg his title, and he held of all tribute free!-- Nor the king was ill-pleased at their pleading, and he quoth, 'A small grace, I trow, 95 Have ye asked, I would e'en be better than your prayer, as ye straight shall know, Why name ye not this my brother as Gamuret Angevin? Since Anjou is my land, I think me the title we _both_ may win!' Then further he spake, the monarch, 'My brother in sooth may seek Yet more from my hand of favour than my mouth may as swiftly speak, 100 With me shall he have his dwelling--I would that ye all should see How one mother alike hath borne us; his riches but small shall be, While I have enough; of free hand would I give him both lands and gold, That my bliss may be ne'er held forfeit by Him, Who can aye withhold, Or give, as He deemeth rightful!' Then the princes they heard alway, 105 How the king would deal well with his brother, and they deemed it a joyful day! And each one bowed him low before him. Nor Gamuret long delayed, But he spake as his heart would bid him, and friendly the words he said: 'Now hearken, my lord and brother, if vassal I think to be To thee, or to any other, then a fair lot awaiteth me. 110 But think thou upon mine honour, for faithful art thou and wise, And give counsel as shall beseem thee, and help as thou shalt devise. For naught have I now save mine armour, if within it I more had done, Then far lands should speak my praises, and remembrance from men were won!' Then further he spake, the hero: 'Full sixteen my squires shall be, 115 And six of them shall bear harness; four pages give thou to me Of noble birth and breeding, and nothing to them I'll spare Of all that my hand may win them. Afar in the world I'ld fare, (Somewhat I ere now have journeyed,) if Good Fortune on me shall smile, I may win from fair women favour. If a woman I serve awhile, 120 And to serve her she hold me worthy, and my heart speaketh not amiss, True knight shall I be and faithful! God show me the way of bliss! As comrades we rode together (but then o'er thy land did reign The King Gandein, our father), and sorrow and bitter pain We bare for Love's sake! At one while I knew thee as _thief_ and _knight_, 125 Thou couldst serve, and thou couldst dissemble, for the sake of thy lady bright. Ah! could I steal love as thou couldst, if my skill were but like to thine, That women should show me favour, then a blissful lot were mine!' 'Alas! that I ever saw thee,' spake, sighing, the king so true, 'Who lightly, with words of mocking, my heart would in pieces hew 130 And would fain that we part asunder! One father hath left us both A mighty store of riches, I would share with thee, nothing loth. Right dear from my heart I hold thee; red gold and jewels bright, Folk, weapons, horse, and raiment, take thou as shall seem thee right, That thou at thy will mayst journey, and thy free hand to all be known. 135 Elect do we deem thy manhood, didst thou Gylstram as birthplace own, Or thou camest here from Rankulat, yet still would that place be thine, Which thou boldest to-day in my favour; true brother art thou of mine!' 'Sir King, thou of need must praise me, so great is thy courtesy! So, courteous, thine aid be given, if thou and my mother free 140 Will share with me now your riches, I mount upward, nor fear to fall, And my heart ever beateth higher--Yet I know not how I should call This life, which my left breast swelleth! Ah! whither wouldst go mine heart? I would fain know where thou shalt guide me--'Tis time that we twain should part.' And all did the monarch give him, yea, more than the knight might crave, 145 Five chargers, picked and chosen, the best in his land he gave High-couraged, swift to battle; and many a cup of gold, And many a golden nugget, for naught would his hand withhold. Four chests for the road he gave him, with many a jewel rare Were they filled. Then the squires he took him who should for the treasure care, 150 And well were they clad and mounted; and none might his grief withhold When the knight gat him unto his mother, who her son in her arms did fold. Spake the woman, as woman grieving: 'Wilt thou tarry with me no more, King Gandein's son? Woe is me! yet my womb this burden bore And the son of my husband art thou. Is the eye of God waxed blind, 155 Or His ear grown deaf in the hearing, that my prayer doth no credence find? Is fresh sorrow to be my portion? I have buried my heart's desire, And the light of mine eyes; will He rob me, who have suffered a grief so dire, Who judgeth with righteous judgment? Then the tale it hath told a lie, That spake of His help so mighty, Who doth help unto me deny!' 160 'God comfort thee,' quoth the hero, 'for the death of my father dear, For truly we both must mourn him--But I think from no lips to hear Such wailing for my departing! As valour shall show the way, I seek knighthood in distant countries--So it standeth with me to-day.' Quoth the queen, 'Since to high love's service thou turnest both hand and heart, 165 Sweet son, let it not displease thee to take of my wealth a part That may serve thee upon thy journey; let thy chamberlain take from me Four chests, each a pack-horse burden, and heavy their weight shall be. And within, uncut, there lieth rich silk of Orient rare, No man as yet hath cut it, and many a samite fair. 170 Sweet son, I prithee tell me what time thou wilt come again, That my joy may wax the greater, and I look for thee not in vain!' 'Nay, that I know not, Lady, nor the land that shall see my face, But wherever I take my journey, thou hast shown unto me such grace As befitteth knightly honour: and the king he hath dealt with me 175 In such wise that grateful service his rewarding shall ever be. And this trust have I, O Lady, that for this thou wilt love him more Henceforward, whate'er the future yet keepeth for me in store.' And as the venture telleth, to the hand of this dauntless knight, Thro' the favour he won from a woman, and the working of true love's might, 180 Came a token fair, and its value was full thousand marks, I trow, E'en to-day an a Jew were craving a pledge, he would deem enow Such jewel, and ne'er disdain it--'Twas sent by his lady true, And fame did he win in her service, and her love and her greeting knew, Yet seldom his pain found easing--Then the hero he took his leave 185 Of mother, brother, and brother's kingdom, and many I ween must grieve Since his eyes never more beheld them. And all who his friends had been, Ere he passed from the land of his fathers, tho' the grace were but small, I ween, He gave them of thanks full measure; he deemed they too much had done, And, courteous, little thought him, that of right he their love had won! 190 Straighter his heart than straightness; did one of his praises speak In a full and fitting measure, then doubt were not far to seek, But ask ye of those his neighbours, or of men who in distant lands Had seen his deeds, then the marvel ye were swifter to understand. And Gamuret he trode ever where Temperance aye should guide, 195 And naught else might rule his doings, nor he boasted him in his pride But bare great honour meekly; from loose ways he e'er had flown; And he thought him, the gallant hero, that none bare on earth a crown, Were they King, or Queen, or Kaiser, whom he deemed of his service worth Were they not the mightiest reckoned of all monarchs that be on earth. 200 This will in his heart he cherished--Then men spake, at Bagdad did reign A monarch so strong and powerful, that homage he well might claim From two-thirds or more of earth's kingdoms. The heathen his name held great, And they spake of him as the Baruch, and kings did on his bidding wait, And crownèd heads were his servants; and his office it lasts to-day-- 205 See how Christian men baptizèd to Rome wend their pilgrim way, So there was the heathen custom. At Bagdad was their papal right, And the Baruch as 'seemed his office purged their sins with his word of might. From Pompey and Ipomidon, two brothers of Babylon, Nineveh, the town of their fathers, the Baruch with force had won, 210 And bravely 'gainst him they battled. Then came the young Angevin, And the Baruch he showed him favour, yea, he did to his service win Gamuret the gallant hero--And he deemed it were well he bore Other arms than Gandein his father had given to him of yore. Then the hero he well bethought him; on his charger's cloth they laid 215 An anchor of ermine fashioned, and the same at his will they made For shield alike and vesture--And green as the emerald rare Was his riding-gear, and 'twas fashioned and wrought of Achmardi fair, ('Tis a silken stuff,) and he bade them to make of it at his will Both blazoned coat and surcoat, (than velvet 'tis richer still;) 220 And he bade them to sew upon it the anchor of ermine white, And with golden threads inwoven was the badge of this gallant knight. And his anchors they never tested or mainland or haven fair And found in that place abiding--But the hero must further bear Thro' many a land, a brave guest, the load of this heraldry, 225 And behind the sign of this anchor but short space might his resting be, And nowhere he found abiding--The tale of the lands he saw, And the vessels in which he sailed him? If the truth unto ye I swore, On mine own oath must I swear it, and my knightly honour true In such wise as the venture told me; other witness I never knew! 230 And men say that his manly courage held the prize in far heathendom, In Morocco's land, and in Persia, and elsewhere he high honour won, At Damascus and at Aleppo, and where knightly deeds should be: In Arabia and lands around it was he held of all conflict free, For no man might dare withstand him, he won him such crown of fame; 235 And his heart for honour lusted, and all deeds were brought to shame, And became as naught before him, as all men bare witness true Who a joust with him had ridden, and Bagdad of his glory knew. And his heart never failed or faltered, but onward his course he bare To Zassamank's land and kingdom; there all men wept that hero fair, 240 Eisenhart, who in knightly service gave his life for a woman's smile; Belakané thereto constrained him, sweet maid she, and free from guile. (Since her love she never gave him, for love's sake did the hero die,) And his kinsmen would fain avenge him, and with force and with subtlety Their armies beset the maiden, but in sooth she could guard her well 245 Ere Gamuret came to her kingdom, and her wrath on her foemen fell. For the Prince Friedebrand of Scotland, and his host that against her came By ship, ere he left her kingdom had she wasted with fire and flame. Now hear what befell our hero; storm-driven he was that day, And scarce might he win to safety, and his boat in the haven lay 250 Beneath the royal palace; and the folk they beheld him there, And he looked around on the meadow, and he saw many tents stand fair Around the town, save the sea-coast, and two armies he thought to see. Then he bade them to tell the story, and whose that fair Burg should be? Since he knew it not, nor his shipmen--And an answer they straightway gave, 255 'Twas Patelamunt; then the townsfolk a boon from the knight would crave, And their speech it was soft and friendly--In the name of their gods they'ld pray He should help them, so great their peril that in danger of death they lay. When the young Angevin had hearkened to the tale of their bitter pain, He proffered to them his service for such payment as knight may gain, 260 (As it oft shall befit a hero)--They should say for what goodly prize He should dare the hate of their foemen? And they answered him in this wise With one mouth the hale and the wounded--Naught would they from him withhold, But lord should he be of their treasure, of their jewels alike and gold, A fair life should he lead among them!--But such payment he little sought, 265 For many a golden nugget from Araby had he brought. And dark as night were the people who in Zassamank dwelt alway-- And the time it seemed long unto him that he need in their midst must stay-- But he bade them prepare a lodging, and methinks it became them well The best of their land to give him, since awhile he with them would dwell. 270 And the women they looked from the windows, and they gazed on the noble knight, And they looked on his squires, and his harness, how 'twas fashioned for deeds of might. Then they saw how the knight, free-handed, on his shield of ermine bare Full many a pelt of sable; the Queen's Marshal he read it fair, The badge, for a mighty anchor, and little he rued the sight, 275 If his eye spake the truth unto him ere this had he seen the knight, Or one who bare his semblance--At Alexandria it needs must be, When the Baruch besieged the city--and unequalled in strife was he! So rode the gallant hero, in stately guise and meet; Ten pack-horses heavy-laden they led first adown the street, 280 And twenty squires behind them; and his people they went before, And lackeys, cooks, and cook-boys, at the head of the train they saw. And stately I ween his household, twelve pages of lineage high Rode next to the squires, well-mannered, and trained in all courtesy, And Saracens were among them; and behind them in order fair 285 Came chargers eight, and a covering of sendal did each one bear. But the ninth it bore a saddle, and the shield ye have known ere now Was borne by a squire beside it, and joyful his mien, I trow. And trumpeters rode behind it, for in sooth they must needs be there, And a drummer he smote his tambour, and swung it aloft in air. 290 And as naught had the hero deemed it, this pomp, if there failed to ride Men who on the flute were skilful, and three fiddlers were at their side, And they hasted not nor hurried; and behind them the hero came, And his shipman he rode beside him, a wise man of goodly fame. And much folk was within the city, and Moors were both man and maid. 295 Then the hero he looked around him, and, lo! many a shield displayed, Battle-hewn and with spear-thrust piercèd they hung on each wall and door. And wailing and woe was their portion; for the knight at each window saw Many men lie sorely wounded, who to breathe the air were fain, And e'en tho' a leech might tend them no help might they think to gain 300 Who were hurt too sore for healing--In the field had they faced the foe, And such shall be their rewarding who in conflict no flight will know-- Many horses were led towards him, sword-hewn and with lance thrust through; And on each side stood dusky maidens, and black as the night their hue. Then his host gave him kindly greeting--and of joy did he reap his meed-- 305 A rich man was he and mighty, and many a knightly deed With thrust and blow had his hand wrought when his post at the gate he found; And many a knight was with him, and bandaged their heads and bound, And their hands in slings were holden; yet tho' sorely wounded still They did many deeds of knighthood, nor were lacking in strength and skill. 310 Then the Burg-grave of the city, with fair words did he pray his guest To deal with him and his household in such wise as should seem him best. And the host, he led the hero to his wife, and courteously Did Gamuret kiss the lady, small joy in the kiss had he! Then they sat them down to the table, and e'en as the feast was o'er, 315 The Marshal he gat him swiftly to the queen, and the tidings bore, And craved from her goodly payment, as to messenger shall be due. And he spake, 'It shall end in gladness, the grief that erewhile we knew, We have welcomed here, O Lady, a knight of such gallant mien, We must thank the gods who have sent him, for our need they have surely seen.' 320 'Now tell me upon thine honour who this gallant knight may be?' 'Lady, a dauntless hero, and the Baruch's man is he, An Angevin he, of high lineage; Ah me! little did he spare Himself, when his foemen seeking he forth to the field would fare. How wisely, with skill and cunning, he avoided the threatening blow, 325 And turned him again to the onslaught! Much sorrow he wrought his foe-- Ere this have I seen him battle, when the princes of Babylon Their city of Alexandria had fain from the Baruch won, And with force from its walls would drive him, and many a man lay dead In the overthrow of their army, for their venture was but ill-sped. 330 And such deeds did he do, this hero, that no counsel was theirs but flight: And there did I hear his praises, for all spake of this gallant knight As one who, without denial, had won him, in many a land, The crown of true knightly honour, by the strength of his own right hand. 'Now fain would I speak with the hero, see thou to the time and way; 335 E'en now might he ride to the castle, for peace shall be kept to-day. Were it better that I should seek him? He is other than we in face, Pray Heaven it not displease him, but our need with the knight find grace! I would that I first might know this, ere the rede from my folk I hear That I show to this stranger honour--If it pleaseth him to draw near, 340 Say, how shall I best receive him? Shall the knight be so nobly born That my kiss be not lost, if I kiss him?' 'Nay, hold me of life forsworn If he be not of kings the kinsman! Lady, this word I'll bear To thy princes, that they shall clothe them in raiment both fit and fair, And stand before thee, in due order, ere yet to thy court we ride, 345 And the same shalt thou say to thy ladies--In the city he doth abide; I will ride below, and will bring him to thy palace, a worthy guest, For no fair or knightly virtue shall be lacking that noble breast.' But little space they delayed them, for the Marshal, with ready skill, Strove that all in such wise be ordered as should pleasure his lady's will. 350 But soon did they bear to the hero rich garments, he did them on, And this hath the venture told me that their cost should be hardly won; And thereon lay the anchors, heavy, and wrought of Arabian gold, For so had he willed. Then the hero, who fair payment for love had told A charger bestrode that 'fore Babylon a knight rode, for jousting fain, 355 From the saddle did Gamuret smite him, and I wot it hath wrought him pain. If his host thought to ride beside him? He and his gallant knights? Yea, in sooth they would do so, gladly--So wended they up the height, And dismounted before the palace; and many a knight stood there, And each, as was fit, had clothed him in raiment both rich and fair. 360 And his pages they ran before him, and each twain they went hand in hand, And in marvellous fair arraying he saw many ladies stand. And the queen, her eyes brought her sorrow as she looked on the Angevin, So lovely was he to look on that he needs must an entrance win Thro' the gates of her heart, if 'twere anguish or joy that within he bore, 365 Tho' her womanhood 'gainst all comers had held them fast closed before. Then a space did she step towards him, and a kiss from her guest she prayed; And, herself, by the hand she took him and they sat them, both man and maid In a window wide, that looked forth from the palace upon the foe, And a covering of wadded samite was spread o'er the couch below. 370 Is there aught that than day is lighter? Then it likeneth not the queen! Yet else was she fair to look on, as a woman should be, I ween, But unlike to the dew-dipped roses was her colour, yea, black as night. And her crown was a costly ruby, and thro' it ye saw aright Her raven head. Then as hostess she spake to her guest this word, 375 That greatly she joyed at his coming, 'Sir, Knight, I such tale have heard Of thy knightly strength and prowess--Of thy courtesy, hear me fair, For fain would I tell of my sorrow, and the woe that my heart doth bear!' 'My help shall not fail thee, Lady! What hath grieved, or doth grieve thee now, I think me aside to turn it, to thy service my hand I vow! 380 I am naught but one man only--Who hath wronged or now wrongeth thee My shield will I hold against him--Little wroth shall thy foeman be!' Then a prince he spake out courteous, 'The foe would we little spare, Did our host not lack a captain, since Friedebrand hence must fare. He defendeth afar his kingdom--A king, one Hernant by name 385 (Whom he slew for the sake of Herlindè) his kinsmen against him came, And evil enow have they wrought him, nor yet from their strife forbear-- Yet he left here full many a hero, and among them, Duke Heuteger With his gallant deeds of knighthood, and his army, hath pressed us sore, They have skill and strength for the conflict. And many a soldier more 390 With Gaschier of Normandy came here, and a hero wise is he. Many knights hath he brought to this country (and wrathful guests they be): Kailet of Hoscurast. All these hath he brought upon our fair land With his comrades four, and his soldiers, the Scottish king Friedebrand! And there, to the West, by the sea-coast doth Eisenhart's army lie, 395 And their eyes shall be fain for weeping; nor in secret, nor openly Hath one seen them, and failed to marvel at their grief and their sorrow sore, Since their lord hath been slain in battle with the heart's rain their eyes run o'er.' Then the guest courteous spake to his hostess, 'I would, an it seem thee right, Thou shouldst say why thy foeman threaten, why they seek thee with war-like might! 400 Thou hast here many gallant heroes, it grieveth me sore to see Thy land thus with hate o'erladen, for woe must it bring to thee.' 'Wouldst thou know? Then, Sir Knight, I will tell thee--A knight did me service true, And the fruit of all manly virtue his life as its decking knew, And gallant and wise was the hero, and his faith as a goodly tree 405 Was fast-rooted, and none so courteous but were shamed by his courtesy. And modest was he as a woman, tho' dauntless and strong, I trow, And a knight e'en as he free-handed ere his day never land might know. (But they that shall come hereafter, other folk shall their doings see.) A fool was he in false dealing, and a Moor, as myself shall be; 410 And his father's name was Tánkaneis, a king of a kingly heart, And his son, he who was my lover, men knew him as Eisenhart. That for love's sake I took his service, as a woman I did not well, It hath brought me but lasting sorrow since no joy to his portion fell, They deem I to death betrayed him! Yet such treason were far from me, 415 Tho' his folk bring such charge against me; and dear to my heart was
{'title': 'Parzival: A Knightly Epic (vol. 1 of 2) by Wolfram', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}