Parsifal - A Drama by Wagner | Page 9

knights replied: "As anguished and holy The dear Saviour lowly, For us sinners His own life did offer; So with hearts pure and free, Forever do we Our lives unto Him gladly proffer. He died--our sins atoned for thus,-- He died---yet liveth still in us!"
And from the topmost of the glorious dome A chorus of fresh boyish voices came: "The faith doth live! The Lord doth give The Dove, His sacred token! Drink at this board The wine outpoured, And eat the bread here broken!"
[Illustration]
And as they sang their sweet antiphonies, A long procession through the splendid hall Wended slow way, and bearing in the King, The suffering Amfortas in his pain, Still lying listless on his royal couch. Before him walked a company of boys Clothed in pale blue, and bearing high aloft A mystic shrine in cloth of deepest crimson, To signify the royal blood beneath. And others followed bearing silver flagons With wine, and baskets of the finest bread. Slowly the King was carried to a couch Within the midst, high-raised and canopied, And just before him, of a pure white stone, Traced with faint figures of the passion-flower, Stood the communion table where was placed The sacred shrine, still covered, of the Grail.
And when the hymns were ended, and the knights Had taken their set places at the board, Then there was silence. And from far away, As if from some deep cavern of a tomb, Behind the couch where King Amfortas lay The muffled voice of agèd Titurel Spake with long silences between the words: "My son Amfortas, art thou at thy post?... Wilt thou unveil the Grail and bid me live?... Or must I die, denied the saving vision?"
And King Amfortas cried in desperate pain: "O woe is me to bear the burning wound That shames me in the office of the Grail! O father, do thou take the sacred trust And let thy holy hands reveal the Grail Once more, and live! And let me quickly die!"
But answered him the agèd Titurel: "Nay, nay, too feeble I to serve again. I live entombed with but a breath of life, Saved by the remnant of the grace of God. My strength all gone, but my poor yearning heart Still eager for the vision of the Grail; For this alone can bring me comfort now. Thine is the office. O unveil the Grail! For serving faithfully thou mayst atone For all the grievous sin of thy sad life."
But quickly King Amfortas stopped the knights Who went to do his bidding at the shrine: "Nay, leave the Holy Cup still unrevealed! God grant that none of you may ever know The torment that this vision brings to me Which brings to you all rapture and all joy. Here do I stand in office, yet accurst,-- My heart of lust to guard God's holiest gift, And plead in prayer from lips all stained with sin,-- Pleading for you who purer are than I! O direst judgment from the God of grace! My inmost soul doth long for His forgiveness, I yearn for sign of His compassion, Yet cannot bear His mercy in the Grail.... But now the hour is nigh! I seem to see A ray of glory fall upon the Cup! The veil is raised! The sacred stream that flows Within the crystal, gloriously shines With radiance heaven-born. But as it glows, I feel the well-spring of the blood divine Pouring in floods into my anguished heart. And then the full tide of my sinful blood Ebbs out in tumult wild through this deep wound Here in my side. It leaps in bounds of pain, Like torments of the lowest depths of hell,-- Through this deep wound. Like His own wound it is, Thrust through with bitter stroke of that same Spear, And in the self-same place from which His tears Of burning blood wept over man's disgrace In holiest pity and divinest love; And now from me, the highest office holding And charged with holiest trust of God's good grace,-- From me the hot, impassioned blood is surging, Renewed again by that first awful sin. Alas, no deep repentance e'er can save A sinner dyed in sins so scarlet red. Naught can avail, but only one sure thing, The healing touch of that thrice-sacred Spear, Held in the pure hand of the guileless One. Have mercy, O have mercy, pitying God! Take back my birthright in the sacred trust! Take back my life and all I hold most dear! But give me healing, and Thy tender love,-- And let me die, and come to Thee pure-hearted!"
And as he ended in an anguished sob, The boys' sweet voices chanted from the dome: _"By pity 'lightened, My guileless One,-- Wait for him, Till My will is done!"_
Then