Parsifal - A Drama by Wagner | Page 5

the King!"
But Kundry would not rise, or could not else.
Then spake the King: "O Kundry, restless, strange, Am I again thy debtor for such help? Yet I will try thy balsam for my wound, And for thy service take my grateful thanks."
But Kundry muttered: "Give no thanks to me. What will it help,--or this, or e'en the bath? And yet, away, I say! On to the bath!" Then the King left her, lying on the ground, And off he moved upon the couch of pain, Longing to bathe him in the shining lake, Hoping against all hope to ease his soul, And quiet in his body the fierce pains.
And one spake up: "Why lies that woman there,-- A foul and snarling thing on holy ground? Methinks her healing balm is witching drug To work a further poison in the King.... She hates us! See her now! How hellishly She looks at us with hot and spiteful eyes! She is a heathen witch and sorceress!"
But Gurnemanz, who knew her well, replied: "What harm has ever come to you from her? And oft she serves us in the kindliest ways. For when we want a messenger to send To distant lands where warrior-knights in fight Are serving God, she quick takes up the task; Before you scarcely know is gone and back. A marvel is her wondrous speed of flight. Nor does she ask your help at any time, Nor tire you with her presence, nor her words. But in the hour of danger, she is near,-- Inspiring by her brave and fiery zeal, Nor asking of you all one word of thanks. Methinks a curse may still be on her life,-- She is so wild and strange, so sad her very eyes. But now, whate'er the past, she is with us, And serves us to atone for earlier guilt. Perchance her work may shrive her of her sins. Surely she does full well to serve us well, And in the serving-help herself and us."
Then spake again a knight: "Perchance her guilt It was, that brought calamity on all our land."
But Gurnemanz: "My thought of her goes far In memory to days and years long past. And it was always when she was away And we alone, that sudden mishap fell. This I have seen through many, many years. The agèd King, our Titurel beloved, He knew her well for many years beyond. 'Twas he who found her sleeping in these woods, All stiff and rigid, pale and seeming dead, When he was building yonder castle-towers. And so did I myself, in recent days, Find her asleep and rigid in the woods,-- 'Twas when calamity on us had come So evil and so shameful from our foe,-- That dread magician of the mountain heights. Say, Kundry, wake and answer me this word? Where hadst thou been in those dark evil days,-- At home, afar, awake or fast asleep,-- When our good King did lose the holy Spear? Why were you not at hand to give us help?"
And Kundry muttered: "Never do I help!" Then said a knight: "O brother Gurnemanz, If she is now so true in serving us, And if she does such strange and wondrous deeds, Then send her for the missing holy Spear For which the King and all the land are fain."
But Gurnemanz with gloomy looks replied: "That were a quest beyond her, beyond all-- That lies within the guarded will of God. O how my heart leaps up in memory Of that blest symbol of the Saviour's power! O wounding, healing, wonder-working Spear, Companion of the Grail in grace divine, A radiant shaft for consecrated hands. What saw I? Hands unholy snatched thee up, And sought to wield thee in unholy ways. I see it all again,--that dark and fatal day When our good King Amfortas, all too bold, Forgetful of the evil in the world, Went straying far out from the castle walls, And loitered through the green and shady woods; And there he met a woman passing fair, With great eyes that bewitched him with their light, And as he stayed and lost his heart to her, He lost the Spear. For on a sudden came Athwart them that foul-hearted, fallen knight, The evil-minded Klingsor, and he snatched The holy Spear and mocking rushed away. Then broke an awful cry from the King's lips; I heard and hurrying fought the evil knight, As did the King, parrying blow on blow, And at the last the King fell wounded sore By that same Spear that once was holy health. This is the fatal wound that burns his side,-- This wound it is that ne'er will close again."
And when the knights asked further of the deed And what of Klingsor, the foul-hearted knight, Then Gurnemanz sat down