Parsifal - A Drama by Wagner | Page 7

woods, Where seems to dwell the perfect peace of God. Were not the woodland creatures kind to thee,-- Did not the sweet birds sing their songs to thee, When first thou camest to these leafy haunts? And this poor swan, so mild and beautiful,--- How could thy heart determine on such deed? It hovered o'er the lake in circling grace, Seeking the dear companion of its love,-- For e'en the heart of bird doth know sweet love,-- And seeming to make sacred all the lake. Didst thou not marvel at its queenly flight, And feel a reverence in thine inmost soul? What tempted thee to shoot the fatal shaft, And slay the bird and grieve the loving King?... See where the deadly arrow smote its breast! Behold the snowy plumage splashed with blood! The spreading pinions drooping helpless now, And in its eye the agony of death! Slain by thy cruel heart that knows no shame! Dost thou not see how wicked is thy deed?"
Then was the young boy stricken with remorse, And drew his hand across his moistened eyes, As if new pity dawned within his soul; Then quickly snatching up his strong arched bow, He broke it, and his arrows flung away. And clutching at his breast as if in pain He stood a time in conscious agony,-- Deep feeling surging through his stricken heart; And then he turned again to Gurnemanz With the brave words: "I did not understand What evil I was doing with my bow."
"Whence art thou?" Gurnemanz did ask of him; And dazed he answered: "That I do not know." "But who thy father?"--"That I do not know." "Who sent thee here?"--"I do not know e'en that." Then Gurnemanz: "Yet tell me but thy name."
And in a strange and dazed way he replied: "Once I had many. Now, I do not know." And Gurnemanz spake sharply, half in wrath, "Thou knowest nothing. Such a guileless soul,-- So wisely foolish, and so foolish wise,-- A very child in heart, yet strangely strong, Ne'er have I found, except in Kundry here.... Come, brother-knights, lift up the stricken swan And bear it on these branches to the lake; Nor speak of this sad sorrow to the King To further grieve his deep-afflicted heart Stricken the King and wounded to his death, This omen he may dwell on to his hurt."
And back unto the King's bath went the knights, While Gurnemanz spake further to the lad: "Speak out thy heart to me. I am thy friend. Surely thou knowest much that thou canst say."
Then spake the boy and told him of his life: "I have a mother,--Heartsrue is she called. And on the barren moorland is our home. My bow and arrows have I made myself To scare the eagles in the forest wilds."
Then Gurnemanz: "Yea, thou hast told me true, For thou thyself art of the eagle brood. I see a something kingly in thy look. Yet better had thy mother taught thy hands To spear and sword than this unmanly bow."
Whereat the wild witch Kundry raised herself From where she lay along the bosky woods, And hoarsely broke in: "Yea, his noble sire Was Gamuret, in battle slain and lost A month before his child had seen the light. And so to save her son from such a death, The lonely mother reared him in the woods, And taught him nothing of the spear and sword, But kept him ever as a guileless child."
Then spake the lad: "And once I saw a host Of men pass by the borders of the wood, A-glitter in the sun, and riding fast On splendid creatures, prancing as they went. Oh, I would fain have been like these fair men. But, laughing gaily, on they galloped fast And I ran after them to be like them, And join the glittering host and see the world. But though I ran, they faded from my sight Yet have I followed, over hill and dale. Day after day I follow on their track, And here I am as now you see me here. My bow has done me service on the way Against wild beasts and savage-seeming men."
And Kundry added: "Yea, the fiery boy Has sent a terror into many hearts-- The wicked always fear the nobly good." Then asked the boy in sweetest innocence: "And who are wicked, tell me, and who good?"
And Kundry spake: "Thy mother, she was good. She grieved for thee, but now she grieves no more. For as I lately rode along that way Coming with haste from far Arabia, I saw her dying, and she spake to me, And sent her blessing to her darling boy."
At which the boy with sudden childish rage: "My mother dead! and sent a grace by thee,-- Thou liest, woman! Take thy