‘Nay1! if such be thy prayer, methinketh, too narrow shall be the space!’
‘What of that? If it do but hold me, none too close shall my presence be,
Nor shalt thou bewail my coming, such marvels2 I’ll tell to thee!’
Is it thou, then, O Dame4 Adventure? Ah! tell me of Parzival,5
What doeth he now my hero? whom Kondrie, to find the Grail
Hath driven, with words sharp-pointed, and sore wept the maidens6 fair
That the path of his far wayfarings the knight7 from their side must bear.
So he passed from the court of King Arthur, where shall he abide8 to-day?
Ah! hasten the tale to tell us, where now shall his footsteps stray?10
Say, if fame to himself he winneth, or be ever of joy bereft9,
Shall his honour as fair and spotless as of old so to-day be left?
His renown10 is it broad as aforetime, or waxeth it small and thin?
Ah! tell us, nor stay the story, of the deeds that his hand shall win.
Hath he seen once again Monsalv?sch, and Anfortas, the mournful king,15
Whose heart was with sorrow laden11? Of thy pity swift comfort bring,
And say if his woe12 be ended—Speak, speak for we tidings pray
Of him whom alike we serve here, dwells Parzival there to-day?
Declare unto me his doings, how fares it with Gamuret’s son,
And the child of fair Herzeleide, is the tale of his wanderings done?20
Since he rode from the court of King Arthur has joy been his lot, or woe?
He hath striven, but rides he ever thro’ the wide world nor rest doth know?
Or loveth he now, outwearied, to linger o’er-long at ease?
I were fain to know all his doings, so speak thou, as thou shalt please!
And this hath the venture told me—He hath ridden many a land,25
And hath sailèd many a water; and ever, before his hand,
Were he man of the land or kinsman13 who would joust14 with him, he fell,
Nor abode15 his mighty16 onslaught, and all men of his praises tell.
And ever when in the balance the fame of his foe17 must lie,
’Twas outweighed18 by his fame, and his glory uprose to the stars on high,30
And all others paled before it—In many a mighty strife19
With sword and lance was he victor, and guarded full well his life.
And they who would fame win from him, for such thinking they paid full dear—
The sword that Anfortas gave him, as ye once in this tale did hear,
Sprang asunder20 onewhile, yet ’twas welded afresh in the mystic spring35
By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring!
Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tell
How adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival,
(But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning21 light,)
When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight,40
And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for ’twas built o’er the brooklet’s wave
Then in search of some worthy25 venture to its door rode the hero brave,
Nor knew that of grace ’twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led.
But the dweller26 therein was a maiden5, and the days of her joy were sped,
For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth,45
And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth.
For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love,
Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above.
Tho’ but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass,
All her life was a prayer, in God’s service her nights as her days she’ld pass.50
And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade,
And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid.
Thus denial of love’s fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die,
And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly.
And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne’er had Lunete braved55
Her wrath29, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave.
And today may we look upon women, who never a willing ear
Had turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked30 to hear.
For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone,
And thro’ virtue31 of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own,60
But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true,
Heaven giveth in her such blessing33 as bloometh for ever new!
And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair!
And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught34 but truth would swear.
Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide,65
Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!
Shall I joy compare with the sorrow that her faith to Siguné brought?
Nay, ’twere better I speak not of it—O’er rough stones, and a road unwrought
Rode Parzival to the window (he deemed well he rode too near).
He would ask of the woodland pathway, and the goal of its windings36 hear.70
And he thought him, perchance, the hermit22 might tell of the unknown way,
‘Doth one dwell here?’ the voice of a maiden it was that made answer,‘Yea!’
As he knew ’twas the voice of a woman, swift turned he his steed aside
On the greensward beside the pathway, for he deemed he too near did ride,
And sooner had he dismounted had he known that a maiden dwelt75
Within such a lowly dwelling38, and shame, as was meet, he felt.
Then his horse and his shield, all splintered, he bound to a fallen tree,
And he loosed his sword from beside him, for a courteous39 knight was he.
Then he stepped him unto the window, and asked of the place and road,
And the cell of all joy was empty, and bare, as ‘seemed grief’s abode.80
He spake, would she come to the window? and the maiden from prayer arose,
She was tall as a virgin40 lily, and pale as a faded rose,
And he deemed not as yet that he knew her—A shirt woven rough of hair,
Next her skin, ‘neath a flowing garment of grey, did the maiden wear,
And sorrow was her heart’s treasure, and fallen her courage high,85
And the guerdon she won for her service must be paid her in many a sigh!
Then the maiden she stepped to the window and the knight did she courteous greet,
In her hand did she hold her psalter, and her voice it was low and sweet.
And Parzival saw on her white hand the gleam of a ring of gold,
For truly she bare the token she won from true love of old.90
And the stone set within the circlet was a garnet, whose slumbering42 light
Flashed red mid43 the dusky shadows, as mid ashes the sparks glow bright.
And the band that her head encircled was black as a mourning band—
Then she spake, ‘Sir Knight, ‘neath the window a bench shalt thou see to stand,
Thou canst sit there, an it so please thee, and thy journey will brook24 delay,95
God reward thee for this thy greeting Who hath led thee to me this day!’
Then the hero did as she bade him, and he sat ‘neath the window small,
And he prayed her, ‘Sit thou within there!’ ‘Nay! ne’er did such chance befall
That here by a man I sat me!’ Then he asked her, what did she here?
That, so far from the home of men-folk, thou dost dwell in this desert drear100
Seemeth me all too great a wonder, say, Lady, how shalt thou live,
Since no man abideth by thee who succour or food can give?’
Then she quoth, ”Tis the Grail that doth feed me, and It feedeth me well I ween,
From Its marvels the sorceress Kondrie, (of her own will the task hath been,)
Doth bring me each Sabbath vigil what serveth me for the week.’105
A little space she kept silence, then further the maid did speak:
‘An it otherwise were with me as I would, I need little care
For the food, since the Grail doth feed me I never too ill shall fare!’
But he deemed that she lied unto him, and with false words would speak him
fair, And, mocking, he spake,‘Now, who gave thee that ring which I see thee wear?110
For ever ’twas told unto me that hermit, or man, or maid,
Must forswear all love!’—‘Now I think me, if in truth thou these words hast said,
For false maiden thou sure dost hold me! Yet if falsehood I ever learn,
And thou shalt be near to witness, ’twere time then with wrath to burn!
God knoweth, ill ways I hated, and falsehood I never knew;115
This troth plight44 that here thou seest I had from a lover true,
Tho’ never was love’s fulfilment our portion while he might live,
’Twas the heart of maiden bade me the love of a maiden give.
And he lieth in death beside me, and his token I ever wear
Since the day that Duke Orilus slew45 him—and grief for his sake I bear—’120
‘And true love will I truly give him, thro’ my sorrow-laden days,
Such love as I sware unto him, when he, whom, all knights47 must praise,
With sword, and shield, and helmet, and prowess of knightly48 deed
Sought my love, and in true love’s service won death for his glory’s meed!
Yet tho’ ever a spotless maiden, my husband he, in God’s sight,125
Shall be, and if thoughts God counteth as deeds then is woven aright
The bond that shall ever bind49 us, true husband and wife as true,
For his death wrought35 my life such sorrow as waxeth for ever new.
And this ring shall, I ween, be my witness when I stand in the sight of God
Of a marriage vow50 and the tear-drops that bedew it are tears of blood.’130
‘Yea, ’tis I indeed, and none other, and the hero who here doth lie
Is my knight, Schionatulander, and the maid of his love am I!’
Then he knew ’twas the maid Siguné, and her sorrow it wrought him pain,
And he lifted his helmet’s visor ere he spake to the maid again.
And she saw his head uncovered, and she saw his face gleam white135
Thro’ the rust51 of the iron harness, and she spake to the gallant52 knight:
‘Is it thou, Parzival, my kinsman? Dost thou seek for the Grail to-day?
Or its mighty power hast thou proven? Say, whither dost wend thy way?’
Then he spake to the noble maiden, ‘Alas54! for my joy is fled,
And the Grail hath but wrought me sorrow, and mischance in fair fortune’s stead.140
For the land that as king had crowned me must I leave, and yet more, I ween,
The fairest of wives, and the sweetest, that ever a man hath seen.
For no lovelier form I think me on earth of mankind was born,
And I yearn55 for her tender greeting, and full sore for her love I mourn!
And yet know I a deeper sorrow and I strive for a higher prize,145
For the day when the Burg of Monsalv?sch, and the Grail shall rejoice my eyes!
Now, Siguné, dear my cousin, thou wast all too wroth with me,
For heavy indeed my sorrow, yet thou fain wouldst my foeman be!’
And she quoth,‘From henceforth, my cousin, mine anger will I forswear,
For too much of thy joy lieth forfeit57 since the question thou didst forbear!150
And I would not too sorely grieve thee—Alas I that thou didst withhold58
The word that had brought thee honour, and the tale of his griefs had told
Who sat there as thine host beside thee—nor thine host alone was he,
Anfortas, for joy and blessing his presence had brought to thee!
And thy question great bliss59 had brought thee, and thy silence had wrought thee woe,155
And thy spirit shall fail, and heart-sorrow as thy comrade thou well shalt know.
And yet had it been far from thee, nor, a stranger, had sought thy side,
Hadst thou asked of that Burg the marvels, and what ill did its host betide!’
‘Yea, I did there as one who wrongeth himself; yet my cousin dear
I prithee here give me counsel, since in sooth are we kinsmen60 near.160
And tell me, how fares it with thee? I would sorrow for this thy woe
Were my sorrow not all too heavy! Greater grief man may never know!’
Then she quoth, ‘May His Mercy help thee, Who knoweth of all men’s woe,
Perchance it may yet befall thee that His finger a way shall show
That shall lead thee once more to Monsalv?sch, and thine heart’s bliss afresh shall spring.165
’Tis but short space since Kondrie left me, and I would I could tidings bring
Of whither she went, but I asked not if she rode to the Burg again,
Or passed elsewhere; but when she cometh by that streamlet she draweth rein27,
Where, from cleft61 in the high rock riven, the waters flow fresh and clear.
It may be, if thou follow swiftly, that she rideth as yet anear,170
And, perchance, thou shalt overtake her.’ Then the knight he made no delay
But farewell did he bid to the maiden; and he followed the woodland way,
And fresh were the tracks before him, but such pathway the mule62 must choose
Thro’ the depths of the dusky thicket63 that its traces he soon must lose.
As the Grail he had lost of aforetime, so he lost It again to-day,175
And joy and delight fled with It—Yea, had he but found the way,
And reached once again Monsalv?sch, for better than erst of old
Had he known how to ask the question—thus in sooth is the venture told.
So now let him ride, but whither? Lo, a knight with uncovered head,
And blazoned64 coat o’er his shining harness, full swiftly towards him sped!180
And to Parzival thus quoth he, ‘Sir Knight, I must deem it ill
That thus thro’ the woods of my monarch65 thou takest thy way at will!
Begone! or receive such token thou shalt wish thyself far from here!
Monsalv?sch doth never brook it that men ride thus its walls anear,
And here must thou strive in battle, and win here a victor’s fame,185
Or such penance66 be thine, as without there, in the open, men Death shall name!’
And he bare in his hand a helmet, and its bands were of silken sheen,
Sharp-pointed his spear, and the spear-shaft was of wood new and strong I ween!
And wrathful he bound his helmet on his head, not in vain should be
His threat, for his blows should enforce it! Now ready for joust was he;190
But many a spear as goodly had splintered ‘fore Parzival,
And he thought, ‘Now, it well had chanced me, that death to my lot should fall
If I rode thro’ the corn upstanding—then reason had he for wrath,
But now hath he none, since I ride here on naught but a woodland path,
And I tread here but fern and heather! An mine hand shall not lose its skill195
I will leave him such pledge for my journey as, I think me, shall please him ill!’
Then they rode at full speed their chargers, and they urged them with spur and rein,
As the bolt from the bow of the archer67 so swift flew those heroes twain,
And the first joust they rode unwounded; but many a knightly fray68
Unscathed had Parzival ridden, and e’en so should it chance to-day.200
(Unto skill and the lust69 of battle must his father’s son be heir.)
His lance-point upon the fastening of his foeman’s helm struck fair,
And it smote70 him where men in jousting71 their shield are wont72 to hold,
And down from his gallant charger did he bear him, the Templar bold.
And the knight of the Grail fell headlong down the side of a rocky dell,205
Tho’ couch he had found, I think me, he slumbered73 not over well.
But the victor’s steed sped onward74, and in vain would he check its flight
Ere it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death the knight.
A cedar75 o’erhung the chasm76, its bough77 Parzival gripped fast,
(Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last,210
He hung, for none spake his judgment78, he hung there by his own hand)
His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand:
Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead,
Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled.
Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival?215
Far better at home in Monsalv?sch had he fared with the wondrous79 Grail!
To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar stood,
For down to the ground hung the bridle80 and fettered81 the war-horse good.
As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell,
Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well.220
Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won—
Nor L?helein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e’er had run!
Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gurnemanz).
Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance,
Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalv?sch, yet one grief must vex82 his soul,225
He found not the Grail—Ever further he rode, further fled the goal!
Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell,
Tho’ the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir Parzival
Had met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before—
One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho’ thin was the cloak it bore230
Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost;
As he rode thro’ the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway crossed,
And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and fair,
And his lady who walked beside him like mien83 to her lord did bear.
And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey,235
For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way.
And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men’s eyes are fain to see,
In like garments they followed barefoot, e’en as pilgrims are wont to be.
Then our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his lowly way,
And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips that day.240
And a prince of the land he seemed him—By each maiden a brachet ran,
And with humble84 mien and reverent85 paced master alike and man.
For both knight and squire86 they followed on this holy pilgrimage,
And some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent87 low with age.
But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise,245
In fair raiment, rich and costly88, he rode in right knightly guise89,
And proudly he ware46 his harness, and unlike were the twain I ween,
The old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his armour90’s sheen!
Then swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway side,
For fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the knight replied.250
But a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy Tide
Should have failèd to give due honour, but in warlike gear should ride.
For better would it befit him unarmèd this day to greet,
Or like them to walk barefooted, and in garb91 for a sinner meet!
Quoth Parzival, ‘Nay, I know not what the time of the year may be,255
Or how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly flee,
How the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot such lore92!
Of old time I served a master, and God was the name He bore.
But He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking gave,
Tho’ ne’er had my heart turned from Him—Men said, ‘If from God ye crave260
For succour, He sure will give it;’ but I deem well they spake a lie,
For He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny!’
Quoth the grey-haired knight, ‘Dost thou mean Him who was once of a Maiden born?
Dost believe that a Man for men’s sake He died on the cross this morn,
And this day for His sake we hallow? Then such garb becomes thee ill!265
For to-day all men call Good Friday, and the world it rejoiceth still
O’er the day that her chains were riven; tho’ she mourneth her Saviour94’s pain.
Speak, knowest thou of faith more faithful than the faith God hath kept with men,
Since He hung on the cross for men’s sake? Such woe as He bare for thee,
Sir Knight, sure must work thee sorrow, since baptized thou shalt surely be!270
For our sin His life was forfeit, or else had mankind been lost,
And Hell as his prey95 had held us, and Hell’s torments97 had paid sin’s cost.
Sir Knight, if thou be not heathen, thou shalt honour this Holy Day—
So do thou as here I counsel, ride thou on this woodland way,
For near here a hermit dwelleth, as thy speech, so his rede shall be,275
And if ruth for ill deed thou showest of thy sin will he speak thee free!’
Then out quoth the old man’s daughter, ‘Nay, father, but speak not so,
For too chill and cold is the morning, thou shalt bid him no further go.
Far better to bid him warm him his steel-clad limbs, for strong
And fair shall he be to look on, and the way is both cold and long.280
Methinks were he thrice as mighty he would freeze ere his goal he reach,
And here hast thou tent for shelter, and viands98 for all and each.
Came King Arthur and all his vassals99 thou wouldst still have enough I trow,
So do thou as host so kindly100, and good-will to this young knight show!’
Quoth the grey-haired sire, ‘My daughters, Sir Knight, here give counsel good,285
Each year, with tent of pilgrim, I wend thro’ this lonely wood.
If warm or cold be the season I care not, as year by year
The time of our dear Lord’s Passion draweth once more anear,
He rewardeth His servant’s service—Sir Knight, what I, for His sake,
Brought here, as my guest, right willing, I pray thee from me to take!’290
And kindly they spake, the maidens, and they bade the knight to stay,
And with gracious mien they prayed naught might drive him from them away.
And tho’ cold was the frost and bitter, and it wrought not as summer’s heat,
Yet Parzival saw their lips glow so red, and soft, and sweet.
(Tho’ they wept for the death of the Saviour, such sorrow became them well.)295
And here, had I cause for vengeance101, an such happy chance befell,
I never would speak them guiltless, but a kiss should their penance be,
Nor against their will would I take it, of good-will should they give it me!
For women shall aye be women, and tho’ brave be the knight, and strong,
Yet I ween is he oft the vanquished103, nor the strife it endureth long!300
With sweet words, and ways so gentle, they ever the knight would pray,
Children alike and parents, and fain would they have him stay:
Yet he thought, ‘It were best I leave them, for e’en if I turn aside
All too fair methinks are these maidens, ’twere unfitting that I should ride
While they by my side walk barefoot—And ’tis better that we should part,305
Since ever I bear Him hatred104 Whom they worship with lowly heart,
And they look for His aid, Who ever hath turnèd His face from me,
Nor from sorrow hath He withheld105 me, but hath wrought with me heavily!’
‘Knight and Lady,’ he quoth, ‘I think me ’twere better I leave should pray,
May good fortune be yours, and blessing, and fulness of joy alway,310
And may you, ye gentle maidens, find reward in your courtesy,
Since so well ye had thought to serve me, fair leave would I pray from ye!’
He greeted them, low they bowed them, and greeted the knight again,
Nor might they withhold their sorrow, for parting aye bringeth pain!
So the son of Herzeleide rode onward, well taught was he315
In all manly106 skill and courage, in mercy and purity;
And his mother had aye bequeathed him her faithful heart and true—
Yet ever his soul waxed sadder, and there sprang up thoughts anew
Of the might of the Maker107 of all things, Who hath made this earth of naught,
How He dealeth with all creation, and still on His power he thought320
‘How might it yet be if God sent me that which brought to an end my woe?
If ever a knight He favoured, if ever a knight might know
His payment for service done Him—if He thinketh His aid they earn
Who dauntless shall wield108 their weapons, and ne’er from a foeman turn,
Let Him aid me, who bear unstainèd shield and sword as befits a man,325
If to-day be His Day of Redemption, let Him help me, if help He can.’
Backward he turned his bridle on the road he had ridden before,
And the knight and his children stood there, and mourned for the parting sore.
And the maidens, true and gentle, gazed after the passing knight,
And his heart spake, he fain had seen them once more those maidens bright.330
Then he spake, ‘Is God’s power so mighty that He guideth upon their way
The steed alike and the rider, then His hand may I praise to-day!
If God sendeth help from heaven, then let Him my charger show
The goal which shall bless my journey, so shall I the token know.
Now, go thou as God shall lead thee!’ and bridle and bit he laid335
Free on the neck of his charger and spurred it adown the glade109.
Towards Fontaine-Sauvage the road led, and the chapel110 where once he sware
The oath that should clear Jeschuté—A holy man dwelt there,
And Trevrezent men called him, and ever on Monday morn
Poor was his fare, and no richer it waxed as the week wore on.340
Nor wine nor bread he tasted, nor food that with blood was red,
Fish nor flesh, but his life so holy on the herb of the ground was fed.
And ever his thoughts, God-guided, were turning to Heaven’s land,
And by fasting the wiles111 of the Devil he deemed he might best withstand.
And to Parzival the mystery of the Grail should he now reveal—345
And he, who of this hath asked me, and since silence my lips must seal
Was wroth with me as his foeman, his anger might naught avail,
Since I did but as Kiot bade me, for he would I should hide the tale,
And tell unto none the secret, till the venture so far were sped
That the hidden should be made open, and the marvel3 of men be read.350
For Kiot of old, the master whom men spake of in days of yore,
Far off in Toledo’s city, found in Arabic writ112 the lore
By men cast aside and forgotten, the tale of the wondrous Grail;
But first must he learn the letters, nor black art might there avail.
By the grace of baptismal waters, by the light of our Holy Faith,355
He read the tale, else ’twere hidden; for never, the story saith,
Might heathen skill have shown us the virtue that hidden lies
In this mighty Grail, or Its marvels have opened to Christian113 eyes.
’Twas a heathen, Flegetanis, who had won for his wisdom fame,
And saw many a wondrous vision, (from Israel’s race he came,360
And the blood of the kings of old-time, of Solomon did he share,)
He wrote in the days long vanished, ere we as a shield might bear
The cross of our Holy Baptism ‘gainst the craft and the wiles of Hell,
And he was the first of earth’s children the lore of the Grail to tell.
By his father’s side a heathen, a calf114 he for God did hold,365
How wrought the devil such folly115, on a folk so wise, of old?
And the Highest Who knoweth all wonders, why stretched He not forth56 His Hand
To the light of His truth to turn them? For who may His power withstand!
And the heathen, Flegetanis, could read in the heavens high
How the stars roll on their courses, how they circle the silent sky,370
And the time when their wandering endeth—and the life and the lot of men
He read in the stars, and strange secrets he saw, and he spake again
Low, with bated breath and fearful, of the thing that is called the Grail,
In a cluster of stars was it written, the name, nor their lore shall fail.
And he quoth thus, ‘A host of angels this marvel to earth once bore,375
But too pure for earth’s sin and sorrow the heaven they sought once more,
And the sons of baptized men hold It, and guard It with humble heart,
And the best of mankind shall those knights be who have in such service part’
Then Kiot my master read this, the tale Flegetanis told,
And he sought for the name of the people, in Latin books of old,380
Who of God were accounted worthy for this wondrous Grail to care,
Who were true and pure in their dealings and a lowly heart might bear.
And in Britain, and France, and Ireland thro’ the chronicles he sought
Till at length, in the land of Anjou, the story to light was brought.
There, in true and faithful record, was it written of Mazadan,385
And the heroes, the sons of his body, and further the story ran,
How Titurel, the grandsire, left his kingdom to Frimutel,
And at length to his son, Anfortas, the Grail and Its heirdom fell:
That his sister was Herzeleide, and with Gamuret she wed23
And bare him for son the hero whose wanderings ye now have read.390
For he rideth upon a journey that shall lead him a road unknown,
Tho’ the grey knight but now had wended his way from the fountain lone28.
And he knew again the meadow, tho’ now the snow lay white
On the ground that erst was blooming with flowers of springtide bright.
’Twas before the rocky hillside where his hand must wipe away395
The stain from Jeschuté‘s honour, and her husband’s wrath allay116.
Yet still the road led onward, to Fontaine-Sauvage, the name
Of the goal that should end his journey and his hermit host he came.
Then out spake the holy hermit, ‘Alas, why doest thou so,
Sir Knight? at this Holy Season ’tis ill thus armed to go.400
Dost thou bear perchance this harness thro’ strife and danger dared?
Or hast thou unharmèd ridden, and in peace on thy way hast fared?
Other robe had beseemed thee better! List not to the voice of pride,
But draw thy rein here beside me, and with me for a space abide.
Not all too ill shalt thou fare here, thou canst warm thee beside my fire.405
Dost thou seek here for knightly venture, and dost guerdon of love desire,
If the power of true Love constrain117 thee, then love Him who Love may claim!
As this day to His Love beareth witness, be His service to-day thine aim,
And serve for the love of fair women, if it please thee, another day;
But now get thee from off thy charger, and awhile from thy wanderings stay.’410
Then Parzival, e’en as he bade him, sprang lightly unto the ground;
Humbly118 he stood before him, as he told how he folk had found
Who had told of the hermit’s dwelling, and the counsel he wisely gave,
And he spake, ‘I am one who hath sinnèd, and rede at thy lips I crave93!’
As he spake the hermit answered,‘Right gladly I’ll counsel thee,415
But, say, what folk hast thou met with? Who showed thee thy way to me?
‘In the wood I met with an old man grey-headed, and fair he spake,
And kindly, I ween, were his people, he bade me this road to take,
On his track my steed came hither.’ Then answered the hermit old,
”Twas Kahenis, and his praises shall ever by men be told.420
A prince of the land of Punturtois, and his sister Kareis’ king
Hath taken to wife—Fairer maidens no mother to earth did bring
Than those maidens twain, his daughters, who met thee upon thy road,
Of a royal house, yet yearly he seeketh this poor abode!’
Then Parzival spake to the hermit, ‘Now say, when thou saw’st me here,425
Didst thou shrink from my warlike coming, didst thou feel no touch of fear?’
Quoth the hermit,‘Sir Knight, believe me, far oftener for stag or bear
Have I feared than I feared a man’s face, in sooth shalt thou be aware
I fear me for no man living! Both cunning and skill have I,
And tho’ I were loath119 to vaunt me, yet I ne’er to this life did fly430
For fear, as beseems a maiden! For never my heart did quail120
When I faced as a knight my foeman, and ne’er did my courage fail,
In the days when such things became me, in the days when I too might fight,
I was armèd as thou art armèd, like thee did I ride, a knight!
And I strove for high love’s rewarding, and many an evil thought435
With the pure mind within me battled, and ever my way I wrought
To win from a woman favour! All that was in time of yore,
And my body, by fasting wasted, remembereth those days no more.’
‘Now give to mine hand the bridle, for there ‘neath the rocky wall
Thy steed shall abide in safety, and we, ere the night shall fall,440
Will gather of bough and herbage, since no better food may be,
Yet I trust that both thou and thy charger fare not all too ill with me!’
But Parzival deemed that surely ’twas unfitting a hermit old
Should thus lead his steed, and the bridle he would fain from his hand withhold,
‘Now courtesy sure forbids thee to strive ‘gainst thine host’s good-will,445
Let not haste from the right path lead thee, but follow my counsel still.’
In this wise spake the old man kindly, as he bade him, so did the knight,
And the charger he led ‘neath the hillside where but seldom did sun-rays light.
In sooth ’twas a wondrous stable where the hermit the steed would stall,
And thro’ it, from heights o’erhanging, foamed121 ever a water-fall.450
The snow lay beneath our hero, no weakling was he, I ween,
Else the frost and the cold of his harness o’er-much for his strength had been.
To a cavern122 the hermit led him where no breath of wind might blow,
And a fire of coals had warmed it, and burned with a ruddy glow.
And here might the guest refresh him by the fire and a taper’s light,455
(Well strewn was the ground with fuel,) then swiftly the gallant knight
Laid from off him his heavy armour, and warmed his limbs so cold,
And his skin in the light glowed ruddy, and his face might the host behold123.
He might well be of wandering weary, for never a trodden way
Nor a roof save the stars of heaven had he known for many a day.460
In the daylight the wood had he ridden, and his couch, it had been the ground:
’Twas well that he here a shelter, and a kindly host had found!
Then his host cast a robe around him, and he took him by his right hand,
And he led him into a cavern where his Missal did open stand.
And as fitted the Holy Season the Altar was stripped and bare;465
And the shrine124—Parzival must know it, ’twas the spot where he once did swear
With true hand, true oath and faithful, that ended Jeschuté‘s woe,
And turnèd her tears to laughter, and taught her fresh joy to know!
Quoth Parzival, ‘Well I know it this chapel and shrine! Of yore,
As hither my wanderings led me, an oath on that shrine I swore;470
And a spear, with fair colours blazoned, that did here by the altar stand
I bare hence, and in sooth, I think me, right well did it serve my hand!
Men say it much honour brought me, yet I wot not if it be so,
For in thoughts of my wife had I lost me, and naught of the thing I know.
Yet, unwitting, two jousts125 had I ridden, and two foemen I overthrew,475
In those days all men gave me honour, nor sorrow nor shame I knew.
Now, alas! is my sorrow greater than ever to man befell!
Say, when did I bear the spear hence? The days of my wanderings tell!’
‘It was Taurian,’ quoth the hermit, ‘who his spear in my care did leave,
And much did he mourn its losing, and I with the knight must grieve.480
And four years and a half and three days shall have passed since we lost the spear,
Sir Knight, an my word thou doubtest, behold! it is written here!’
Then he showed unto him in the Psalter how the time it had come and gone,
And the weeks and the years he read him that silent and swift had flown.
And he spake, ‘Now first do I learn them, the days that I aimless stray,485
And the weeks and the years that have vanished, since my joy hath been reft away.’
And he spake, ‘Now indeed me-seemeth that my bliss it was but a dream,
For heavy the load of sorrow that so long hath my portion been!’
‘And, Sir Host, I yet more would tell thee, where cloister126 or church shall be
And men unto God give honour, there no eye hath looked on me,490
And naught but strife have I sought me, tho’ the time as thou sayst be long,
For I against God bear hatred, and my wrath ever waxeth strong.
For my sorrow and shame hath He cherished, and He watched them greater grow
Till too high they waxed, and my gladness, yet living, He buried low!
And I think were God fain to help me other anchor my joy had found495
Than this, which so deep hath sunk it, and with sorrow hath closed it round.
A man’s heart is mine, and sore wounded, it acheth, and acheth still,
Yet once was it glad and joyous127, and free from all thought of ill!
Ere sorrow her crown of sorrow, thorn-woven, with stern hand pressed
On the honour my hand had won me o’er many a foeman’s crest128!500
And I do well to lay it on Him, the burden of this my shame,
Who can help if He will, nor withholdeth the aid that men fain would claim,
But me alone, hath He helped not, whate’er men of Him may speak,
But ever He turneth from me, and His wrath on my head doth wreak129!’
Then the hermit beheld130 him sighing, ‘Sir Knight, thou shalt put away505
Such madness, and trust God better, for His help will He never stay.
And His aid to us here be given, yea, alike unto me and thee.
But’ twere best thou shouldst sit beside me, and tell here thy tale to me,
And make to me free confession131—How first did this woe begin?
What foe shall have worked such folly that God should thine hatred win?510
Yet first would I pray thee, courteous, to hearken the word I say,
For fain would I speak Him guiltless, ere yet thou thy plaint shall lay
‘Gainst Him, Who denieth never unto sinful man His aid,
But ever hath answered truly, who truly to Him hath prayed.’
‘Tho’ a layman132 I was yet ever in books might I read and learn515
How men, for His help so faithful, should ne’er from His service turn.
Since aid He begrudged133 us never, lest our soul unto Hell should fall,
And as God Himself shall be faithful, be thou faithful whate’er befall;
For false ways He ever hateth—and thankful we aye should be
When we think of the deed, so gracious, once wrought of His love so free!520
For our sake the Lord of Heaven in the likeness135 of man was made,
And Truth is His name, and His nature, nor from Truth shall He e’er have strayed.
And this shalt thou know most surely, God breaketh His faith with none.
Teach thy thoughts ne’er from Him to waver, since Himself and His ways are One!’
‘Wouldst thou force thy God with thine anger? He who heareth that thou hast sworn525
Hatred against thy Maker, he shall hold thee of wit forlorn!
Of Lucifer now bethink thee, and of those who must share his fall,
Bethink thee, the angel nature was free from all taint136 of gall53,
Say, whence sprang that root of evil which spurred them to endless strife,
And won its reward in Hell’s torments, and the death of an outcast life?530
Ashtaroth, Belcimon, and Belat, Rhadamant, yea, and many more!
Pride and anger the host of Heaven with Hell’s colours have painted o’er!’
‘When Lucifer and his angels thus sped on their downward way,
To fill their place, a wonder God wrought from the earth and clay:
The son of His hands was Adam, and from flesh of Adam, Eve535
He brought, and for Eve’s transgression137, I ween, all the world doth grieve.
For she hearkened not her Creator, and she robbed us of our bliss.
And two sons sprang forth from her body, and the elder he wrought amiss,
Since envy so worked upon him that from wrath there sprang disgrace,
And of maidenhood138 did he rob her who was mother of all his race!540
Here many a one doth question, an the tale be to him unknown,
How might such a thing have chancèd? It came but by sin alone!’
Quoth Parzival, ‘Now, I think me that never such thing might be,
And ’twere better thou shouldst keep silence, than tell such a tale to me!
For who should have borne the father, whose son, as thou sayest, reft545
Maidenhood from his father’s mother? Such riddle139 were better left!’
But the hermit again made answer, ‘Now thy doubt will I put away,
O’er my falsehood thou canst bemoan140 thee if the thing be not truth I say,
For the Earth was Adam’s mother, of the Earth was Adam fed,
And I ween, tho’ a man she bare here, yet still was the Earth a maid.550
And here will I read the riddle, he who robbed her of maidenhood
Was Cain the son of Adam, who in wrath shed his brother’s blood:
For as on the Earth, so stainless141, the blood of the guiltless fell,
Her maidenhood fled for ever! And true is the tale I tell.
For wrath of man and envy, thro’ Cain did they wake to life,555
And ever from that day forward thro’ his sin there ariseth strife.’
‘Nor on earth shall aught be purer than a maiden undefiled,
Think how pure must be a maiden, since God was a Maiden’s Child!
Two men have been born of maidens, and God hath the likeness ta’en
Of the son of the first Earth-Maiden, since to help us He aye was fain.560
Thus grief alike and gladness from the seed of Adam spring,
Since He willed to be Son of Adam, Whose praises the angels sing.
And yet have we sin as our birthright, and sin’s pain must we ever bear,
Nor its power may we flee! Yet pity He feeleth for our despair,
Whose Strength is aye linked with Mercy, and with Mercy goes hand in hand,565
And for man, as a Man, He suffered, and did falsehood by truth withstand.’
‘No longer be wroth with thy Maker! If thou wouldst not thy soul were lost—
And here for thy sin do penance, nor longer thus rashly boast,
For he who, with words untamèd, is fain to avenge142 his wrong,
His own mouth shall, I ween, speak his judgment ere ever the time be long.570
Learn faith from the men of old-time, whose rede ever waxeth new,
For Plato alike and the Sibyls in their day spake words so true,
And long years ere the time had ripened143 His coming they did foretell144
Who made for our sin’s Atonement, and drew us from depths of Hell.
God’s Hand from those torments took us, and God’s Love lifted us on high,575
But they who His love disdainèd, they yet in Hell’s clutches lie!’
‘From the lips of the whole world’s Lover came a message of love and peace,
(For He is a Light all-lightening, and never His faith doth cease,)
And he to whom love He showeth, findeth aye in that Love his bliss,
Yet twofold I ween is the message, and His token some read amiss;580
For the world may buy, as it pleaseth, God’s Wrath or His Love so great.
Say, which of the twain wilt146 thou choose here, shall thy guerdon be Love or Hate?
For the sinner without repentance147, he flieth God’s faith and Face,
But he who his sin confesseth, doth find in His presence grace!’
‘From the shrine of his heart, who shall keep Him? Tho’ hidden the thought within,585
And secret, and thro’ its darkness no sunbeam its way may win,
(For thought is a secret chamber149, fast locked, tho’ no lock it bear,)
Yet, tho’ against man it be closèd, God’s light ever shineth there.
He pierceth the wall of darkness, and silent and swift His spring,
As no sound betrayed His coming, as no footstep was heard to ring,590
So silent His way He goeth—And swift as our thoughts have flown,
Ere God passed of our heart the threshold, our thoughts unto Him were known!
And the pure in heart He chooseth; he who doth an ill deed begin,
Since God knoweth the thoughts of all men, full sorely shall rue32 his sin.
And the man who by deeds God’s favour doth forfeit, what shall he gain?595
Tho’ the world count him honour-worthy, his soul seeketh rest in vain.
And where wilt thou seek for shelter if God as thy foeman stand,
Who of wrath or of love giveth payment, as men serve Him, with equal hand?
Thou art lost if thy God be against thee—If thou wouldst His favour earn,
Then away from thy wrath and thy folly thy thoughts to His goodness turn!’600
Quoth Parzival, ‘Here I thank thee, from my heart, that such faithful rede
Thou hast given of him who withholdeth from no man his rightful meed,
But evil, as good, requiteth—Yet my youth hath been full of care,
And my faith hath but brought me sorrow, and ill to this day I fare!’
Then the hermit he looked on the Waleis, ‘If a secret be not thy grief,605
Right willing thy woe I’ll hearken, I may bring thee perchance relief;
Of some counsel may I bethink me such as yet to thyself dost fail!’
Quoth Parzival, ‘Of my sorrows the chiefest is for the Grail,
And then for my wife—none fairer e’er hung on a mother’s breast,
For the twain is my heart yet yearning150, with desire that ne’er findeth rest.’610
Quoth his host, ‘Well, Sir Knight, thou speakest, such sorrow is good to bear;
If thus for the wife of thy bosom151 thy heart knoweth grief and care,
And Death find thee a faithful husband, tho’ Hell vex thee with torments dire152
Yet thy pains shall be swiftly ended, God will draw thee from out Hell-fire.
But if for the Grail thou grievest, then much must I mourn thy woe,615
O! foolish man, since fruitless thy labours, for thou shalt know
That none win the Grail save those only whose names are in Heaven known,
They who to the Grail do service, they are chosen of God alone;
And mine eyes have surely seen this, and sooth is the word I say!’
Quoth Parzival, ‘Thou hast been there?’ ‘Sir Knight,’ quoth the hermit, ‘Yea!’620
But never a word spake our hero of the marvels himself had seen,
But he asked of his host the story, and what men by ‘The Grail’ should mean?
Spake the hermit, ‘Full well do I know this, that many a knightly hand
Serveth the Grail at Monsalv?sch, and from thence, throughout all the land,
On many a distant journey these gallant Templars fare,625
Whether sorrow or joy befall them, for their sins they this penance bear!’
‘And this brotherhood153 so gallant, dost thou know what to them shall give
Their life, and their strength and their valour—then know, by a stone they live,
And that stone is both pure and precious—Its name hast thou never heard?
Men call it Lapis Exilis—by its magic the wondrous bird,630
The Ph?nix, becometh ashes, and yet doth such virtue flow
From the stone, that afresh it riseth renewed from the ashes glow,
And the plumes154 that erewhile it moulted spring forth yet more fair and bright—
And tho’ faint be the man and feeble, yet the day that his failing sight
Beholdeth the stone, he dies not, nor can, till eight days be gone,635
Nor his countenance155 wax less youthful—If one daily behold that stone,
(If a man it shall be, or a maiden ’tis the same,) for a hundred years,
If they look on its power, their hair groweth not grey, and their face appears
The same as when first they saw it, nor their flesh nor their bone shall fail
But young they abide for ever—And this stone all men call the Grail.’640
‘And Its holiest power, and the highest shall I ween be renewed to-day,
For ever upon Good Friday a messenger takes her way.
From the height of the highest Heaven a Dove on her flight doth wing,
And a Host, so white and holy, she unto the stone doth bring.
And she layeth It down upon It; and white as the Host the Dove645
That, her errand done, swift wingeth her way to the Heaven above.
Thus ever upon Good Friday doth it chance as I tell to thee:
And the stone from the Host receiveth all good that on earth may be
Of food or of drink, the earth beareth as the fulness of Paradise.
All wild things in wood or in water, and all that ‘neath Heaven flies,650
To that brotherhood are they given, a pledge of God’s favour fair,
For His servants He ever feedeth and the Grail for their needs doth care!’
‘Now hearken, the Grail’s elect ones, say who doth their service claim?
On the Grail, in a mystic writing, appeareth each chosen name,
If a man it shall be, or a maiden, whom God calls to this journey blest.655
And the message no man effaceth, till all know the high behest,
But when all shall the name have read there, as it came, doth the writing go:
As children the Grail doth call them, ‘neath its shadow they wax and grow.
And blessèd shall be the mother whose child doth the summons hear,
Rich and poor alike rejoiceth when the messenger draweth near,660
And the Grail son or daughter claimeth! They are gathered from every land,
And ever from shame and sorrow are they sheltered, that holy band.
In Heaven is their rewarding, if so be that they needs must die,
Then bliss and desire’s fulfilment are waiting them all on high!’
‘They who took no part in the conflict, when Lucifer would fight665
With the Three-in-One, those angels were cast forth from Heaven’s height.
To the earth they came at God’s bidding, and that wondrous stone did tend,
Nor was It less pure for their service, yet their task found at last an end.
I know not if God forgave them, or if they yet deeper fell,
This one thing I know of a surety, what God doeth, He doeth well!670
But ever since then to this service nor maiden nor knight shall fail,
For God calleth them all as shall please Him!—and so standeth it with the Grail!’
Quoth Parzival, ‘So, since knighthood may conquer, with spear and shield,
Both the fame of this life, and the blessing which Paradise shall yield,
Since my soul ever longed for knighthood, and I fought where’er strife might be,675
And my right hand hath neared full often the guerdon of victory,
If God be the God of battles, if He know how a man should fight,
Let Him name me as one of His servants, of the Grail let Him make me knight!
They shall own that I fear no danger, nor from strife would I turn aside!’
But the hermit made answer gently, ‘First must thou beware of pride,680
For lightly may youth mislead thee; and the grace of humility156
Mayst thou lose, and the proud God doth punish, as full surely is known to me!’
And tears filled his eyes to o’erflowing, and his sad thoughts awhile did turn
To a story of old, and our hero he bade from its lesson learn.
And he quoth, ‘Sir Knight, at Monsalv?sch a king reigned158 in days of yore,685
His name all men know as Anfortas, and I weep for him evermore.
Yea, and thou too shalt mourn his sorrow, for bitter the woe, I ween,
And the torment96 of heart and body that his guerdon from pride hath been.
For his youth and his worldly riches they led him an evil road,
And he sought for Frau Minne’s favour in paths where no peace abode.’690
‘But the Grail all such ways forbiddeth, and both knight alike and squire
Who serve the Grail must guard them from the lust of untamed desire.
By meekness159 their pride must be conquered, if they look for a heavenly prize,
And the brotherhood holdeth hidden the Grail from all stranger eyes:
By their warlike skill and prowess the folk from the lands around,695
They keep afar, and none knoweth where the Grail and Its Burg are found
Save those whom the Grail shall summon within Monsalv?sch’ wall—
Yet one, uncalled, rode thither160 and evil did then befall,
For foolish he was, and witless, and sin-laden from thence did fare,
Since he asked not his host of his sorrow and the woe that he saw him bear.700
No man would I blame, yet this man, I ween, for his sins must pay,
Since he asked not the longed-for question which all sorrow had put away.
(Sore laden his host with suffering, earth knoweth no greater pain.)
And before him King L?helein came there, and rode to the Lake Brimbane.
Libbèals, the gallant hero, a joust there was fain to ride,705
And L?helein lifeless left him, on the grass by the water-side,
(Prienlaskors, methinks, was his birthplace) and his slayer161 then led away
His charger, so men knew the evil thus wrought by his hand that day.’
‘And I think me, Sir Knight, thou art L?helein? For thou gavest unto my care
A steed that such token showeth as the steeds of the Grail Knights bear!710
For the white dove I see on its housing, from Monsalv?sch it surely came?
Such arms did Anfortas give them while joy yet was his and fame.
Their shields bare of old the token, Titurel gave it to his son
Frimutel, and such shield bare that hero when his death in a joust he won.
For his wife did he love so dearly no woman was loved so well715
By man, yet in truth and honour,—and the same men of thee shall tell
If thou wakenest anew old customs, and thy wife from thine heart dost love—
Hold thou fast to such fair example lest thy steps from the right path rove!
And in sooth thou art wondrous like him who once o’er the Grail did reign157,
Say, what is thy race? whence art thou? and tell me I pray thy name!’720
Each gazed for a space on the other, and thus quoth Parzival,
‘Son am I to a king and hero who through knightly courage fell,
In a joust was he slain162—Now I pray thee, Sir Hermit, of this thy grace,
That thou, in thy prayers henceforward, wilt give to his name a place.
Know, Gamuret, did they call him, and he came from fair Anjou—725
Sir Host I am not L?helein; if ever such sin I knew
’Twas in my days of folly, yet in truth have I done the same,
Here I make of my guilt102 confession, and my sin unto thee I name,
For the prince who once fell a victim unto my sinful hand
Was he whom men called ‘the Red Knight,’ Prince Ither of Cumberland.730
On the greensward I lifeless stretched him, and as at my feet he lay,
Harness, and horse, and weapons, as my booty I bare away!’
Spake the host as his words were ended, (the tale he ill pleased must hear,)
‘Ah! world, wherefore deal thus with us? since sorrow and grief and fear
Far more than delight dost thou give us! Say, is this thy reward alone?735
For ever the song that thou singest doth end in a mournful tone!’
And he spake, ‘O thou son of my sister, what rede may I give to thee?
Since the knight thou hast slain in thy folly, thy flesh and thy blood was he!
If thou, blood-guiltiness bearing, shalt dare before God to stand,
For one blood were ye twain, to God’s justice thy life shall repay thine hand.740
Say, for Ither of Gaheviess fallen, what payment dost think to give?
The crown he of knightly honour! God gave him, while he might live.
All that decketh man’s life; for all evil his true heart did truly mourn,
True balsam was he of the faithful, to honour and glory born.
And shame fled before his coming, and truth in his heart did dwell,745
And for love of his lovely body many women shall hate thee well!
For well did they love his coming, and to serve them he aye was fain,
But their eyes that shone fair for his fairness he ne’er shall rejoice again!
Now, may God show His mercy to thee whose hand hath such evil wrought,
Herzeleide the queen, thy mother, thou too to her death hast brought—’750
‘Nay! Nay! not so, holy father! What sayest thou?’ quoth Parzival,
‘Of what dost thou here accuse me? Were I king o’er the wondrous Grail
Not all Its countless163 riches would repay me if this be sooth,
These words that thy lips have spoken! And yet if I, in very truth,
Be son unto thy sister, then show that thou mean’st me well,755
And say, without fear or falsehood, are these things true that thou dost tell?’
Then the hermit he spake in answer, ‘Ne’er learnt I to deceive,
Thy mother she died of sorrow in the day thou her side didst leave,
Such rewarding her love won for her! Thou wast the beast that hung
On her breast, the wingèd dragon that forth from her body sprung,760
That spread its wings and left her: in a dream was it all foretold164
Ere yet the sorrowing mother the babe to her breast did hold!’
‘And two other sisters had I, Schoisianè she was one;
She bare a child—Woe is me, her death thro’ this birth she won!
Duke Kiot of Katelangen was her husband, and since that day765
All wordly joy and honour he putteth from him away.
Siguné, their little daughter, was left to thy mother’s care:
And sorrow for Schoisianè in my heart do I ever bear!
So true was her heart and faithful, an ark ‘gainst the flood of sin.
A maiden, my other sister, her pure life doth honour win,770
For the Grail she ever tendeth—Repanse de Schoie, her name,
Tho’ none from Its place may move It whose heart showeth taint of shame,
In her hands is It light as a feather—And brother unto us twain
Is Anfortas, by right of heirship165 he king o’er the Grail doth reign;
And he knoweth not joy, but sorrow, yet one hope I ween is his,775
That his pain shall at last be turnèd to delight and to endless bliss.
And wondrous the tale of his sorrow, as, nephew, I’ll tell to thee,
And if true be thine heart and faithful his grief shall thy sorrow be!’
‘When he died, Frimutel, our father, they chose them his eldest166 son
As Lord of the Grail and Its knighthood, thus Anfortas his kingdom won,780
And of riches and crown was he worthy, and we were but children still—
When he came to the years of manhood, when love joyeth to work her will
On the heart, and his lips were fringèd with the down of early youth,
Frau Minne laid stress upon him who for torment hath little ruth.
But if love the Grail King seeketh other than he find writ,785
’Tis a sin, and in sorrow and sighing full sore shall he pay for it!’
‘And my lord and brother chose him a lady for service fair,
Noble and true he deemed her, I say not what name she bare;
Well he fought in that lady’s honour, and cowardice167 from him fled,
And his hand many a shield-rim shattered, by love’s fire was he venture led.790
So high stood his fame that no hero in knightly lands afar
Could he brook to be thought his equal, so mighty his deeds of war,
And his battle-cry was “Amor,” yet it seemeth unto me
Not all too well such cry suiteth with a life of humility.’
‘One day as the king rode lonely, in search of some venture high795
(Sore trouble it brought upon us,) with love’s payment for victory,
For love’s burden lay heavy on him, in a joust was he wounded sore
With a poisoned spear, so that healing may be wrought on him nevermore.
For thine uncle, the King Anfortas, he was smitten168 thro’ the thigh169
By a heathen who with him battled, for he jousted170 right skilfully171.800
He came from the land of Ethnisé, where forth from fair Paradise
Flow the streams of the River Tigris, and he thought him, that heathen wise,
He should win the Grail, and should hold It—On his spear had he graven his name,
From afar sought he deeds of knighthood, over sea and land he came.
The fame of the Grail drew him thither, and evil for us his strife,805
His hand joy hath driven from us and clouded with grief our life!’
‘But thine uncle had battled bravely and men praised his name that day—
With the spear-shaft yet fast in his body he wended his homeward way.
And weeping arose and wailing172 as he came once again to his own,
And dead on the field lay his foeman, nor did we for his death make moan!’810
‘When the king came, all pale and bloodless, and feeble of strength and limb,
Then a leech173 stretched his hand to the spear-wound, and the iron he found fast within,
With the hilt, wrought of reed, and hollow, and the twain from the wound he drew.
Then I fell on my knees, and I vowed174 me to God, with a heart so true,
That henceforward the pride of knighthood, and its fame, would I know no more,815
If but God would behold my brother and would succour his need so sore.
Then flesh, wine, and bread I forswore there, and all food that by blood might live,
That lust might no longer move me my life I to God would give,
And I tell thee, O son of my sister, that the wailing arose anew
When my weapons I put from off me and ungirded my sword so true,820
And they spake, ‘Who shall guard our mysteries? who shall watch o’er the wondrous Grail?’
And tears fell from the eyes of the maidens, but their weeping might naught avail!
‘To the Grail, then, they bare Anfortas, if Its virtue might bring relief;
But, alas! when his eyes beheld It yet heavier waxed his grief
As the life sprang afresh within him, and he knew that he might not die;825
And he liveth, while here I hide me in this life of humility,
And the power of the Grail, and Its glory, with their monarch have waxen weak.
For the venom175, his wound that poisoned, tho’ the leeches176 their books did seek
Yet found they nor help nor healing—Yea, all that their skill might learn
‘Gainst the poison of Aspis, Elkontius, of Liseis, and Ecidemon,830
All spells ‘gainst the worm empoisoned, ‘gainst Jecis or Meàtris;
Or all that a wise man knoweth of roots or of herbs; I wis
Naught was there in all might help him; nor rede I a longer tale
Since God willeth not his healing what man’s skill may aught avail?’
‘Then we sent to the mystic waters, in a far-off land they rise,835
Pison, Gihon, Tigris, Euphrates, the rivers of Paradise,
And so near they flow that the perfumes which breathe from its scented177 air
Shall yet to their streams be wafted—If their waters perchance might bear
Some plant from the wondrous garden that might succour us in our woe,
But vain thought, and fruitless labour, fresh sorrow our heart did know!’840
‘Nor here did we end our labour, for again for the bough we sought
Which the Sibyl unto ?neas as a shield ‘gainst Hell’s dangers brought.
‘Gainst the smoke and the fire of Phlegethon, and the rivers that flow in Hell
Would it guard, and for long we sought it, for we thought, if such chance befell
That the spear in Hell-fire was welded, and the poison from Hell did spring845
That thus of our joy had robbed us, then this bough might salvation178 bring!’
‘But Hell, it knew naught of the poison! There liveth a wondrous bird
Who loveth too well her fledglings—Of the Pelican’s love we heard,
How she teareth her breast and feedeth her young with the quickening food
Of her own life-blood, and then dieth—So we took of that bird the blood,850
Since we thought that her love might help us, and we laid it upon the sore
As best we could—Yet, I wot well, no virtue for us it bore!’
‘A strange beast, the Unicorn179, liveth, and it doth in such honour keep
The heart of a spotless maiden that it oft at her knee will sleep.
And the heart of that beast we took us, and we took us the red-fire stone855
That lies ‘neath its horn, if the king’s wound might its healing virtue own.
And we laid on the wound the carbuncle, and we put it the wound within,
Yet still was the sore empoisoned nor aid from the stone might win!’
‘And sore with the king we sorrowed—Then a magic herb we found,
(Men say, from the blood of a dragon it springeth from out the ground,)860
With the stars, and the wind, and the heaven, close-bound, doth it win its power,
Lest perchance, by the flight of the dragon, when the stars bring the circling hour,
And the moon draweth near to her changing, (for sorer then grows the pain,)
The herb might our grief have aided—Yet its magic we sought in vain!’
‘Then the knights of the Grail knelt lowly, and for help to the Grail they prayed,865
And, behold! the mystic writing, and a promise it brought of aid,
For a knight should come to the castle, and so soon as he asked the king
Of the woe that so sorely pained him his question should healing bring.
But let them beware, man or maiden, or child, should they warn the knight
Of his task, he no healing bringeth, greater waxeth the sorrow’s might.870
And the writing it ran, ‘Ye shall mark this, forewarning shall bring but ill,
And in the first night of his coming must the healer his task fulfil,
Or the question shall lose its virtue; but if at the chosen hour
He shall speak, his shall be the kingdom, and the evil hath lost its power.
So the hand of the Highest sendeth to Anfortas the end of woe,875
Yet King shall he be no longer tho’ healing and bliss he know.’
‘Thus we read in the Grail that our sorrow should come to an end that day
That the knight should come who the meaning of the grief that he saw should pray—
Then salve of Nard we took us, and Teriak, and the wound we dressed,
And we burnt wood of Lignum Aloe for so might the king find rest.880
Yet ever he suffereth sorely—Then fled I unto this place,
And my life little gladness knoweth till my brother hath gotten grace.
And the knight, he hath come, and hath left us, and ill for us all that day,
(But now did I speak of his coming,) sorrow-laden he rode away,
For he saw his host’s woe and asked not, ‘What aileth thee here, mine host?’885
Since his folly such words forbade him great bliss shall he there have lost!’
Then awhile did they mourn together till the mid-day hour drew near,
And the host spake, ‘We must be seeking for food, and thine horse, I fear,
As yet shall be lacking fodder180; nor know I how we shall feed
If not God in His goodness show us the herbs that shall serve our need,890
My kitchen but seldom smoketh! Forgive thou the lack to-day,
And abide here, so long as shall please thee, if thy journey shall brook delay.
Of plants and of herbs would I teach thee much lore, if so be the grass
Were not hidden by snow—God grant us that this cold may be soon o’erpast—
Now break we yew-boughs for thy charger, far better its fare hath been895
Erewhile ‘neath the roof of Monsalv?sch than shall here be its lot I ween!
Yet never a host shall ye meet with who rider alike and steed
Would as gladly bid share of his substance as I, had I all ye need!’
Then the twain they went forth on their errand—Parzival for his steed had care,
While the hermit for roots was seeking since no better might be their fare;900
And the host his rule forgat not, he ate naught, whate’er he found,
Till the ninth hour, but ever hung them, as he drew them from out the ground,
On the nearest shrub181, and there left them; many days he but ill might fare
For God’s honour, since oft he lost them, the shrubs182 which his roots did bear.
Nor grudged134 they aught of their labour: then they knelt by the streamlet’s flow,905
And the roots and the herbs they washed there, and no laughter their lips might know.
Then their hands they washed, and the yew-boughs Parzival together bound
And bare them unto his charger ere the cavern again he found;
Then the twain by the fireside sat them, nor further might food be brought,
Nor on roast nor on boiled they fed them, nor found in their kitchen aught.910
Yet so true was the love and the honour Parzival to the hermit bare
That he deemed he enough had eaten, and no better had been his fare
With Gurnemanz of Graharz, or e’en in Monsalv?sch hall,
When the maidens passed fair before him and the Grail fed them each and all.
Then his kindly host quoth, ‘Nephew, despise not this food, for know915
Lightly thou shalt not find one who shall favour and kindness show,
Of true heart, without fear of evil, as fain would I show to thee.’
And Parzival quoth, ‘May God’s favour henceforward ne’er light on me
If food ever better pleased me, or I ate with a better will
What a host ever set before me, such fare doth content me still.’920
Their hands they need not wash them for such food as before them lay,
’Twas no fish, that their eyes had harmèd as men oft are wont to say.
And were I or hawk183 or falcon184 I had lent me to the chase,
Nor stooped to the lure185 unwilling186, nor fled from my master’s face,
But an they no better fed me than at noontide they fed, these twain,925
I had spread my wings right swiftly, nor come to their call again!
Why mock at this folk so faithful? ’Twas ever my way of old—
Yet ye know why, forsaking187 riches, they chose to them want and cold,
And the lack of all things joyful188, such sorrow and grief of heart
They bare of true heart, God-fearing, nor had they in falsehood part;930
And thus from the hand of the Highest they won payment for grief and woe,
And alike should the twain God’s favour, as of old, so hereafter know.
Then up stood they again, and they gat them, Parzival and the holy man,
To the steed in its rocky stable, and full sadly the host began
As he spake to the noble charger, ‘Woe is me for thy scanty190 fare,935
For the sake of the saddle upon thee and the token I see thee bear!’
When their care for the horse was ended, then sorrow sprang forth anew,
Quoth Parzival, ‘Host and uncle, my folly I needs must rue,
And fain would I tell the story if for shame I the word may speak;
Forgive me, I pray, of thy kindness, since in thee do I comfort seek,940
For sorely, I ween, have I sinnèd; if thou canst no comfort find
No peace may be mine, but for ever the chains of remorse191 shall bind.
Of true heart shalt thou mourn my folly—He who to Monsalv?sch rode,
He who saw Anfortas’ sorrow, he who spake not the healing word,
’Twas I, child and heir of misfortune, ’twas I, Parzival, alone,945
Ill have I wrought, and I know not how I may for such ill atone145!’
Spake the hermit, ‘Alas! my nephew, thou speakest the words of woe,
Vanished our joy, and sorrow henceforth must we grasp and know,
Since folly of bliss betrayed thee: senses five did God give to thee,
And methinks, in the hour of thy testing, their counsel should better be.950
Why guarded they not thine honour, and thy love as a man to men,
In the hour that thou satst by Anfortas? Of a truth hadst thou spoken then!’
‘Nor would I deny thee counsel; mourn not for thy fault too sore,
Thou shalt, in a fitting measure, bewail thee, and grief give o’er.
For strange are the ways, and fitful, of mankind, oft is youth too wise955
And old age turneth back to folly, and darkened are wisdom’s eyes,
And the fruit of a life lieth forfeit, while green youth doth wax old and fade—
Not in this wise true worth shall be rooted, and payment in praise be paid.
Thine youth would I see fresh blooming, and thine heart waxing strong and bold,
While thou winnest anew thine honour, nor dost homage192 from God withhold.960
For thus might it chance unto thee to win for thyself such fame
As shall make amends193 for thy sorrow, and God thee, as His knight, shall claim!’
‘Thro’ my mouth would God teach thee wisdom; now say, didst thou see the spear,
In that wondrous Burg of Monsalv?sch? As ever the time draws near
When Saturn194 his journey endeth—(that time by the wound we know,965
And yet by another token, by the fall of the summer snow)
Then sorely the frost doth pain him, thy king and uncle dear,
And deep in the wound empoisoned once more do they plunge195 the spear,
One woe shall help the other, the spear cure the frost’s sharp pain,
And crimson196 it grows with his life-blood ere men draw it forth again!’970
‘When the stars return in their orbit, then the wailing it waxeth sore,
When they stand in opposition197, or each to the other draw.
And the moon, in its waxing and waning, it causeth him bitter pain—
In the time that I erst have told thee then the king little rest may gain;
His flesh thro’ the frost it groweth colder than e’en the snow,975
But men know that the spear sharp-pointed doth with fiery198 venom glow,
And upon the wound they lay it, and the frost from his flesh so cold
It draweth, and lo! as crystals of glass to the spear doth hold,
And as ice to the iron it clingeth, and none looseth it from the blade.
Then Trebuchet the smith bethought him, in his wisdom two knives he made,980
Of silver fair he wrought them, and sharp was the edge and keen—
(A spell on the king’s sword written had taught him such skill I ween,)
Tho’ no flame on earth can kindle199 Asbestos, as men do tell,
And never a fire may harm it, if these crystals upon it fell
Then the flame would leap and kindle and burn with a fiery glow985
Till th’ Asbestos lay in ashes, such power doth this poison know!’
‘The king, he rideth never, nor yet may he walk, or lie,
And he sitteth not, but, reclining, in tears his sad days pass by.
And the moon’s changes work him evil—To a lake they call Brimbane
They bear him full oft for fishing that the breezes may soothe200 his pain.990
This he calleth his day for hunting, tho’ what booty shall be his share,
And he vex himself to gain it, for his host ’twould be meagre fare!
And from this there sprang the story that he should but a Fisher be,
Tho little he recked the fable201, no merchant I ween was he
Of salmon202 or aye of lamprey, he had chosen far other game995
Were he freed from the load of sorrow and the burden of bitter pain.’
Quoth Parzival, ‘So I found him; the king’s skiff at anchor lay,
And for pastime, e’en as a fisher, the even he wore away;
And many a mile had I ridden that day, since from Pelrap?r
When the sun stood high in the heaven, at noontide I forth must fare;1000
And at even I much bethought me where my shelter that night might be,
Then my uncle did fair entreat203 me, and my host for a space was he.’
‘A perilous204 way didst thou ride there,’ spake the host, ‘one that well they guard
Those Templars, nor strength nor cunning brings a traveller thro’ their ward37,
For danger full oft besets205 him, and oft he his life shall lose,1005
Life against life is their penance, all quarter these knights refuse.’
‘Yet scatheless207 I passed that woodland in the day that I found the king
By the lake,’ quoth the knight, ‘and at even his palace with grief did ring,
And sure, as they mourned, I think me, no folk ever mourned before!
In the hall rose the voice of wailing as a squire sprang within the door,1010
And a spear in his hand he carried, and to each of the walls he stept,
Red with blood was the spear, as they saw it, the people they mourned and wept.’
Then answered the host, ‘Far sorer than before was the monarch’s pain,
In this wise did he learn the tidings that Saturn drew near again,
And the star with a sharp frost cometh, and it helpeth no whit41 to lay1015
The spear on the sore as aforetime, in the wound must it plunge alway!
When that star standeth high in heaven the wound shall its coming know
Afore, tho’ the earth shall heed208 not, nor token of frost shall show.
But the cold it came, and the snow-flakes fell thick in the following night
Tho’ the season was spring, and the winter was vanquished by summer’s might.1020
As the frost to the king brought sorrow and pain, so his people true
Were of joy bereft, as the moment of his anguish209 thus nearer drew.’
And Trevrezent quoth, ‘In sorrow that folk hath both lot and part,
When the spear thro’ the king’s wound pierceth, it pierceth each faithful heart.
And their love to their lord, and their sorrow, such tears from their eyelids210 drew1025
That, methinks, in those bitter waters had they been baptized anew.’
Spake Parzival unto the hermit, ‘Five-and-twenty they were, the maids
I saw stand before the monarch, and courteous their part they played.’
And the host spake, ‘By God’s high counsel such maidens alone avail
For the care of this wondrous mystery, and do service before the Grail.1030
And the Grail, It chooseth strictly211, and Its knights must be chaste212 and pure,—
When the star standeth high in the heaven then grief must that folk endure,
And the young they mourn as the aged213, and God’s wrath it lasts for aye,
And ne’er to their supplication214 doth He hearken and answer “Yea.”’
‘And, nephew, this thing would I tell thee, and my word shalt thou well believe,1035
They who to the Grail do service, they take, and again they give.
For they take to them tittle children, noble of birth and race—
If a land be without a ruler, and its people shall seek God’s Face
And crave of His Hand a monarch, then He hearkeneth to their prayer,
And a knight, from the Grail host chosen, as king to that land doth fare.1040
And well shall he rule that people, and happy shall be that land,
For the blessing of God goeth with him and God’s wisdom doth guide his hand.’
‘God sendeth the men in secret, but the maidens in light of day
Are given unto their husbands; thus none spake to his wooing, Nay,
When King Kastis wooed Herzeleide, but joyful our sister gave,1045
Yet ne’er might her love rejoice him for Death dug at his feet a grave.
But in life had he given thy mother both Norgals and fair Waleis,
Those kingdoms twain and their cities, Kingrivals and Kanvoleis.
’Twas a fair gift, and known of all men—Then they rode on their homeward way,
But Death met them upon their journey, and he made of the king his prey,1050
And over both Waleis and Norgals Herzeleide, as queen, did reign,
Till Gamuret’s right hand valiant215 won the maid, and her kingdoms twain.’
‘Thus the Grail Its maidens giveth, in the day, and the sight of men,
But It sendeth Its knights in the silence and their children It claims again,—
To the host of the Grail are they counted, Grail servants they all shall be,1055
So the will of God standeth written on the Grail for all men to see.’
‘He who would to the Grail do service, he shall women’s love forswear:
A wife shall none have save the Grail king, and his wife a pure heart must bear,
And those others whom God’s Hand sendeth, as king, to a kingless land—
But little I recked such counsel, to love’s service I vowed my hand,1060
As the pride of my youth constrained216 me, and the beauty of woman’s eyes,
And I rode full oft in her service, and I battled for knighthood’s prize.
Fain was I for wild adventure, on jousting no more I thought,
So fair shone the love-light on me ever fiercer the strife I sought.
And thro’ far-off lands and distant, in the service of love I fared,1065
And to win sweet love’s rewarding right valiant the deeds I dared.
If heathen my foe or Christian, what mattered it unto me?
The fiercer the strife that beset206 me, the fairer my prize should be!’
‘And thus, for the love of woman, in three parts of the earth I fought,
In Europe, and far-off Asia, and in Afric’ I honour sought.1070
If for gallant jousting I lusted217 I fought before Gaurivon;
By the mystic Mount of Fay-Morgan I many a joust have run.
And I fought by the Mount Agremontin, where are fiery men and fierce,
Yet the other side they burn not tho’ their spears thro’ the shield can pierce.
In Rohas I sought for ventures, and Slavs were my foemen then,1075
With lances they came against me and I trow they were gallant men!’
‘From Seville I took my journey, and I sailed o’er the tideless sea
Unto Sicily, since thro’ Friant and Aquilea should my journey be.
Alas! alas! woe is me, for I met with thy father there,
I found him, and looked upon him, ere I from Seville must fare.1080
For e’en as I came to the city he there for a space abode,
And my heart shall be sore for his journey, since thence to Bagdad he rode,
And there, as thyself hast spoken, in a knightly joust he fell,
And for ever my heart must mourn him, and my tongue of his praises tell!’
‘A rich man shall be my brother, nor silver nor gold would spare1085
When in secret I forth from Monsalv?sch at his will and his word did fare;
For I took me his royal signet, and to Karkobra I came,
Where Plimiz?l to the wide sea floweth, and the land, Barbig?l, they name.
And the Burg-grave he knew the token, ere I rode from the town again
Of horses and squires218, as failed me, he raised me a gallant train,1090
And we rode thence to wild adventures, and to many a knightly deed,
For nothing had he begrudged me of aught that might serve my need.
Alone came I unto the city, and there at my journey’s end
Did I leave those who had fared thence with me, and alone to Monsalv?sch wend.’
‘Now hearken to me, my nephew, when thy father first saw my face1095
Of old in Seville’s fair city, there did he such likeness trace
To his wife, fair Herzeleide, that he would me as brother claim,
Tho’ never before had he seen me, and secret I held my name.
And in sooth was I fair to look on, as ever a man might be,
And my face by no beard was hidden; and sweetly he spake to me,1100
When he sought me within my dwelling—Yet many an oath I swore
And many a word of denial, yet ever he pressed me more
Till in secret at last I told him, his kinsman was I in truth,
And greatly did he rejoice him when he knew that his words were sooth!’
‘A jewel he gave unto me, and I gave to him at his will;1105
Thou sawest my shrine, green shall grass be, yet that shineth greener still,
’Twas wrought from the stone he gave me—and a better gift he gave,
For his nephew as squire he left me, Prince Ither, the true and brave.
His heart such lore had taught him that falsehood his face did flee,
The King of Cumberland was he, who, thou sayest, was slain by thee.1110
Then no longer might we delay us, but we parted, alas! for aye.
He rode to the land of Baruch, unto Rohas I took my way.
‘In Celli three weeks I battled, and I deemed ’twas enough for fame,
From Rohas I took my journey and unto Gandein I came,
(’Twas that town from which first thy grandsire, his name of Gandein did take,)1115
And many a deed did Ither, and men of his prowess spake.
And the town lieth near the river, where Graien and Drave they meet,
And the waters I ween are golden,—there Ither found guerdon sweet,
For thine aunt, Lamire, she loved him, she was queen of that fair land,
Gandein of Anjou, her father, he gave it unto her hand.1120
And Lamire was her name, but her country shall be Styria to this day—
And many a land must he traverse who seeketh for knightly fray.’
‘It grieveth me sore for my red squire, men honoured me for his sake,
And Ither was thy near kinsman tho’ of that thou small heed didst take!
Yet God He hath not forgotten, and thy deed shall He count for sin,1125
And I wot thou shalt first do penance ere thou to His peace shalt win.
And, weeping, this truth I tell thee, two mortal sins shall lie
On thine heart, thou hast slain thy kinsman, and thy mother, thro’ thee, must die.
And in sooth shalt thou sore bewail her; in the day thou didst leave her side,
So great was her love, and faithful, that for grief at thy loss she died.1130
Now do thou as here I rede thee, repent148 thee and pay sin’s cost,
That thy conflict on earth well ended thy soul be not ever lost.’
Then the host he quoth full kindly, ‘Nephew, now say the word,
Whence hast thou yon gallant charger? Not yet I the tale have heard!’
‘In a joust, Sir Host, did I win it, when I rode from Siguné‘s cell1135
In a gallop219 I smote the rider and he from the saddle fell,
And the steed was mine, I rode hence,—from Monsalv?sch he came, the knight.’
Quoth the host, ‘Is the man yet living who thus with thee did fight?’
‘Yea, I saw him fly before me, and beside me stood his steed.’
‘Nay, if thou in such wise dost bear thee thou art scant189 of wit indeed!1140
The Grail-knights dost thou rob, and thinkest their friendship thereby220 to win?’
‘Nay, my uncle, in strife I won it, and he who shall count it sin
Let him ask how the thing hath chanced thus, ’twas a fair fight we fought, we twain,
Nor was it for naught that I took it, for first had my steed been slain!’
Quoth Parzival, ‘Who was the maiden who the Grail in her hands did bear,1145
Her mantle221, that eve, she lent me?’—Quoth the hermit, ‘That lady fair
Is thine aunt, if her robe she lent thee of the loan shalt thou not be vain,
For surely she deemed that hereafter thou shouldst there as monarch reign.
And the Grail, and herself, yea and I too, should honour thee as our lord:
And a gift didst thou take from thine uncle, for he gave thee, I ween, a sword,1150
And sin hast thou won in the wearing, since thy lips, which to speak are fain,
There spake not the mystic question which had loosened his sorrow’s chain,
And that sin shalt thou count to the other, for ’tis time that we lay us down.
Nor couches nor cushions had they, but they laid them upon the ground,
And for bedding the rushes served them—too humble, I ween, such bed1155
For men of a race so noble, yet they deemed they were not ill-sped.
Then twice seven days he abode there, with the hermit his lot did share,
And the herb of the ground was his portion—yet he sought not for better fare,
Right gladly he bare such hardness that should bring to him food so sweet,
For as priest did his host absolve222 him, and as knight gave him counsel meet!1160
Quoth Parzival to the hermit, ‘Say who shall he be, who lay
Before the Grail? grey was he, yet his face it was as the day!’
Spake the host, ‘Titurel thou sawest, and he shall grandsire be
To thy mother, first king and ruler of the Grail and Its knights was he.
But a sickness hath fallen on him, and he lieth, nor findeth cure,1165
Yet his face on the Grail yet looketh, by Its power shall his life endure!
Nor his countenance changeth colour, and his counsel shall aye be wise—
In his youth he rode far and jousted, and won to him valour’s prize.’
‘An thou wouldst that thy life be adornèd with true worth as thy crown of fame,
Then ne’er mayst thou hate a woman, but shall honour, as knight, her name,1170
For women and priests, thou knowest, unarmèd shall be their hand,
Yet the blessing of God watcheth o’er them, and as shield round the priest doth stand;
For the priest, he careth for thee, that thine end may be free from ill,
So treat thou no priest as a foeman, but serve him with right good will.
For naught on the earth thou seest that is like to his office high,1175
For he speaketh that word unto us which our peace and our life did buy;
And his hand hath been blest for the holding of the pledge on the altar laid,
To assure us of sin’s forgiveness, and the price for our pardon paid.
And a priest who from sin doth guard him, and who to his Lord shall give
Pure heart and pure hand for His service, say, what man shall holier live?’1180
Now this day was their day of parting—Trevrezent to our hero spake,
‘Leave thou here thy sins behind thee, God shall me for thy surety take,
And do thou as I have shown thee, be steadfast223 and true of heart!’
Think ye with what grief and sorrow the twain did asunder part.
点击收听单词发音
1 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
参考例句: |
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2 marvels | |
n.奇迹( marvel的名词复数 );令人惊奇的事物(或事例);不平凡的成果;成就v.惊奇,对…感到惊奇( marvel的第三人称单数 ) | |
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3 marvel | |
vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异;n.令人惊异的事 | |
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4 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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5 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
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6 maidens | |
处女( maiden的名词复数 ); 少女; 未婚女子; (板球运动)未得分的一轮投球 | |
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7 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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8 abide | |
vi.遵守;坚持;vt.忍受 | |
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9 bereft | |
adj.被剥夺的 | |
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10 renown | |
n.声誉,名望 | |
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11 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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12 woe | |
n.悲哀,苦痛,不幸,困难;int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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13 kinsman | |
n.男亲属 | |
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14 joust | |
v.马上长枪比武,竞争 | |
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15 abode | |
n.住处,住所 | |
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16 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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17 foe | |
n.敌人,仇敌 | |
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18 outweighed | |
v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 );在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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19 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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20 asunder | |
adj.分离的,化为碎片 | |
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21 waning | |
adj.(月亮)渐亏的,逐渐减弱或变小的n.月亏v.衰落( wane的现在分词 );(月)亏;变小;变暗淡 | |
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22 hermit | |
n.隐士,修道者;隐居 | |
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23 wed | |
v.娶,嫁,与…结婚 | |
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24 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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25 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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26 dweller | |
n.居住者,住客 | |
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27 rein | |
n.疆绳,统治,支配;vt.以僵绳控制,统治 | |
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28 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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29 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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30 brooked | |
容忍,忍受(brook的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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31 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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32 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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33 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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34 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
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35 wrought | |
v.引起;以…原料制作;运转;adj.制造的 | |
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36 windings | |
(道路、河流等)蜿蜒的,弯曲的( winding的名词复数 ); 缠绕( wind的现在分词 ); 卷绕; 转动(把手) | |
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37 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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38 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
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39 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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40 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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41 whit | |
n.一点,丝毫 | |
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42 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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43 mid | |
adj.中央的,中间的 | |
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44 plight | |
n.困境,境况,誓约,艰难;vt.宣誓,保证,约定 | |
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45 slew | |
v.(使)旋转;n.大量,许多 | |
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46 ware | |
n.(常用复数)商品,货物 | |
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47 knights | |
骑士; (中古时代的)武士( knight的名词复数 ); 骑士; 爵士; (国际象棋中)马 | |
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48 knightly | |
adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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49 bind | |
vt.捆,包扎;装订;约束;使凝固;vi.变硬 | |
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50 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
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51 rust | |
n.锈;v.生锈;(脑子)衰退 | |
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52 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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53 gall | |
v.使烦恼,使焦躁,难堪;n.磨难 | |
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54 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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55 yearn | |
v.想念;怀念;渴望 | |
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56 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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57 forfeit | |
vt.丧失;n.罚金,罚款,没收物 | |
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58 withhold | |
v.拒绝,不给;使停止,阻挡 | |
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59 bliss | |
n.狂喜,福佑,天赐的福 | |
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60 kinsmen | |
n.家属,亲属( kinsman的名词复数 ) | |
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61 cleft | |
n.裂缝;adj.裂开的 | |
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62 mule | |
n.骡子,杂种,执拗的人 | |
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63 thicket | |
n.灌木丛,树林 | |
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64 blazoned | |
v.广布( blazon的过去式和过去分词 );宣布;夸示;装饰 | |
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65 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
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66 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
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67 archer | |
n.射手,弓箭手 | |
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68 fray | |
v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
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69 lust | |
n.性(淫)欲;渴(欲)望;vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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70 smote | |
v.猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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71 jousting | |
(骑士)骑马用长矛比武( joust的现在分词 ) | |
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72 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
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73 slumbered | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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74 onward | |
adj.向前的,前进的;adv.向前,前进,在先 | |
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75 cedar | |
n.雪松,香柏(木) | |
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76 chasm | |
n.深坑,断层,裂口,大分岐,利害冲突 | |
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77 bough | |
n.大树枝,主枝 | |
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78 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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79 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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80 bridle | |
n.笼头,束缚;vt.抑制,约束;动怒 | |
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81 fettered | |
v.给…上脚镣,束缚( fetter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82 vex | |
vt.使烦恼,使苦恼 | |
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83 mien | |
n.风采;态度 | |
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84 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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85 reverent | |
adj.恭敬的,虔诚的 | |
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86 squire | |
n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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87 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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88 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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89 guise | |
n.外表,伪装的姿态 | |
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90 armour | |
(=armor)n.盔甲;装甲部队 | |
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91 garb | |
n.服装,装束 | |
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92 lore | |
n.传说;学问,经验,知识 | |
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93 crave | |
vt.渴望得到,迫切需要,恳求,请求 | |
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94 saviour | |
n.拯救者,救星 | |
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95 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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96 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
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97 torments | |
(肉体或精神上的)折磨,痛苦( torment的名词复数 ); 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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98 viands | |
n.食品,食物 | |
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99 vassals | |
n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 );(封建时代)诸侯;从属者;下属 | |
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100 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
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101 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
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102 guilt | |
n.犯罪;内疚;过失,罪责 | |
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103 vanquished | |
v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 );战胜;克服;抑制 | |
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104 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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105 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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106 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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107 maker | |
n.制造者,制造商 | |
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108 wield | |
vt.行使,运用,支配;挥,使用(武器等) | |
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109 glade | |
n.林间空地,一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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110 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
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111 wiles | |
n.(旨在欺骗或吸引人的)诡计,花招;欺骗,欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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112 writ | |
n.命令状,书面命令 | |
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113 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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114 calf | |
n.小牛,犊,幼仔,小牛皮 | |
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115 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
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116 allay | |
v.消除,减轻(恐惧、怀疑等) | |
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117 constrain | |
vt.限制,约束;克制,抑制 | |
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118 humbly | |
adv. 恭顺地,谦卑地 | |
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119 loath | |
adj.不愿意的;勉强的 | |
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120 quail | |
n.鹌鹑;vi.畏惧,颤抖 | |
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121 foamed | |
泡沫的 | |
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122 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
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123 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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124 shrine | |
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣 | |
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125 jousts | |
(骑士)骑着马用长矛打斗( joust的名词复数 ); 格斗,竞争 | |
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126 cloister | |
n.修道院;v.隐退,使与世隔绝 | |
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127 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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128 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
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129 wreak | |
v.发泄;报复 | |
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130 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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131 confession | |
n.自白,供认,承认 | |
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132 layman | |
n.俗人,门外汉,凡人 | |
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133 begrudged | |
嫉妒( begrudge的过去式和过去分词 ); 勉强做; 不乐意地付出; 吝惜 | |
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134 grudged | |
怀恨(grudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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135 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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136 taint | |
n.污点;感染;腐坏;v.使感染;污染 | |
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137 transgression | |
n.违背;犯规;罪过 | |
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138 maidenhood | |
n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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139 riddle | |
n.谜,谜语,粗筛;vt.解谜,给…出谜,筛,检查,鉴定,非难,充满于;vi.出谜 | |
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140 bemoan | |
v.悲叹,哀泣,痛哭;惋惜,不满于 | |
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141 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
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142 avenge | |
v.为...复仇,为...报仇 | |
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143 ripened | |
v.成熟,使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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144 foretell | |
v.预言,预告,预示 | |
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145 atone | |
v.赎罪,补偿 | |
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146 wilt | |
v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎;(指人)疲倦,衰弱 | |
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147 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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148 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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149 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
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150 yearning | |
a.渴望的;向往的;怀念的 | |
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151 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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152 dire | |
adj.可怕的,悲惨的,阴惨的,极端的 | |
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153 brotherhood | |
n.兄弟般的关系,手中情谊 | |
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154 plumes | |
羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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155 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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156 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
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157 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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158 reigned | |
vi.当政,统治(reign的过去式形式) | |
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159 meekness | |
n.温顺,柔和 | |
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160 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
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161 slayer | |
n. 杀人者,凶手 | |
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162 slain | |
杀死,宰杀,杀戮( slay的过去分词 ); (slay的过去分词) | |
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163 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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164 foretold | |
v.预言,预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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165 heirship | |
n.继承权 | |
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166 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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167 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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168 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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169 thigh | |
n.大腿;股骨 | |
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170 jousted | |
(骑士)骑马用长矛比武( joust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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171 skilfully | |
adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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172 wailing | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的现在分词 );沱 | |
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173 leech | |
n.水蛭,吸血鬼,榨取他人利益的人;vt.以水蛭吸血;vi.依附于别人 | |
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174 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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175 venom | |
n.毒液,恶毒,痛恨 | |
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176 leeches | |
n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 );蚂蟥;榨取他人脂膏者;医生 | |
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177 scented | |
adj.有香味的;洒香水的;有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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178 salvation | |
n.(尤指基督)救世,超度,拯救,解困 | |
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179 unicorn | |
n.(传说中的)独角兽 | |
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180 fodder | |
n.草料;炮灰 | |
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181 shrub | |
n.灌木,灌木丛 | |
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182 shrubs | |
灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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183 hawk | |
n.鹰,骗子;鹰派成员 | |
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184 falcon | |
n.隼,猎鹰 | |
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185 lure | |
n.吸引人的东西,诱惑物;vt.引诱,吸引 | |
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186 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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187 forsaking | |
放弃( forsake的现在分词 ); 弃绝; 抛弃; 摒弃 | |
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188 joyful | |
adj.欢乐的,令人欢欣的 | |
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189 scant | |
adj.不充分的,不足的;v.减缩,限制,忽略 | |
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190 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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191 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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192 homage | |
n.尊敬,敬意,崇敬 | |
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193 amends | |
n. 赔偿 | |
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194 Saturn | |
n.农神,土星 | |
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195 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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196 crimson | |
n./adj.深(绯)红色(的);vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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197 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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198 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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199 kindle | |
v.点燃,着火 | |
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200 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
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201 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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202 salmon | |
n.鲑,大马哈鱼,橙红色的 | |
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203 entreat | |
v.恳求,恳请 | |
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204 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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205 besets | |
v.困扰( beset的第三人称单数 );不断围攻;镶;嵌 | |
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206 beset | |
v.镶嵌;困扰,包围 | |
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207 scatheless | |
adj.无损伤的,平安的 | |
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208 heed | |
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心 | |
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209 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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210 eyelids | |
n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 );眼睛也不眨一下;不露声色;面不改色 | |
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211 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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212 chaste | |
adj.贞洁的;有道德的;善良的;简朴的 | |
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213 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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214 supplication | |
n.恳求,祈愿,哀求 | |
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215 valiant | |
adj.勇敢的,英勇的;n.勇士,勇敢的人 | |
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216 constrained | |
adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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217 lusted | |
贪求(lust的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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218 squires | |
n.地主,乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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219 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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220 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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221 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
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222 absolve | |
v.赦免,解除(责任等) | |
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223 steadfast | |
adj.固定的,不变的,不动摇的;忠实的;坚贞不移的 | |
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