Parsifal - A Drama by Wagner | Page 8

false words back!" And still impetuous and unreasoning, Fighting the facts of life in rebel mood (A child of sudden temper, guileless heart), He seized her, struggling with a furious might To make her unsay what her lips had told. Perhaps he might have harmed her in his wrath, Had not the ag��d Gurnemanz come near, And drawn him back, with the sharp-spoken words: "Impetuous child, restrain thy violence! This woman harms thee not. She speaks the truth! Kundry has seen it, for she never lies."
And at the word, the lad grew calm again, And silent stood with still and stony stare, Until his heart broke out in woe afresh (A guileless child, not knowing strong control), And he was seized with trembling, and he swooned.
Then Kundry, bearing naught of hate or spite, Ran to a pebbly brook that flowed near by, And brought cold water in an ancient horn, Sprinkled the lad, and gave him some to drink.
And Gurnemanz, with kindly look at her, Spake out: "Thy deed is worthy of the Grail,-- A cup of water fails not of reward; And sin is conquered by the deeds of good."
But Kundry muttered still: "I do no good!" Then in still lower tone to her own self: "I do no good, I only long for rest. O weary me! Would I might never wake! Yet dare I sleep? It means calamity To those whom I in vain have tried to serve. Resist I cannot! Yea, the time has come! I feel the awful spell upon mine eyes,-- Slumber I must! Slave of that evil one Who wields his black art from the mountain height. Sleep, sleep, to sleep! I must! I must! I must!" With this she crept away and laid her down Within a thicket of the forest woods.
Meanwhile the litter of the King came back With all its retinue of gallant knights. And Gurnemanz held up the tottering lad, Still sorrowing at the sad news come to him, And slowly led him toward the castle gate, While softly speaking to him graciously: "See how our King Amfortas from the bath Is carried by his loving servitors. The sun is rising high. The time has come When we shall celebrate our holy Feast. There will I lead thee. If thy heart be pure, The Grail will be to thee as food and drink." Then asked the lad: "What is this thing, the Grail?"
And Gurnemanz: "I may not tell thee that, But if to serve it thou art surely called, Then shalt thou know its meaning to the full. Somehow I feel and hope that thou shalt know, Else what has led thy footsteps to this height. Yet no one sees the glory of the Grail Save those to whom it shall reveal itself."
Then on they moved, and softly spake the lad: "I scarcely move, and yet I seem to run,-- What is the meaning of this strange new thing?"
And Gurnemanz made answer: "Here, my child, There is no space and time, but all is one,-- For here we breathe the atmosphere of God,-- A boundless Here and an eternal Now."
Then on they went, and soon were lost to view Within the gateway of a rocky cliff; Sometimes came glimpses of them as they climbed The sloping passages within the cliff-- A cloistered corridor of carven columns-- And paused a moment at some rocky window To see the grandeur of the mountain heights. The soft notes of a trumpet called them up, And silver bells were chiming melodies.
At length they reached the noble pillared hall Within the castle of the Holy Grail, For here the sacred feast was always kept,-- And here were gathering the bless��d knights. Clothed were they all in tunics of gray-blue,-- The color of the softened light of heaven,-- With mantles of pale scarlet, flowing free,-- The very tincture of the blood they served,-- And on the mantles snow-white soaring doves, The symbol of the Holy Spirit's gift. And with a solemn joy they took their place Along the tables of communing love; The while from the great vaulted dome above Came ever-growing sound of chiming bells.
Then spellbound stood the lad and gazed around, Amazed at all the glory of the hall, And all the solemn splendor of the scene, Till Gurnemanz stooped down and whispered low: "Now give good heed, and if thy heart be pure, And thou art called, then surely thou shalt know."
Then sang the knights this chorus soft and slow; "O holy feast of blessing, Our portion day by day; In thee God's grace possessing, That passeth not away. Who doth the right and true, Here findeth strength anew; This cup his hand may lift, And claim God's holiest gift."
And from the mid-height of the lofty dome The voices of the younger