Parzival E-Book

Wolfram von Eschenbach

• Herausgeber: Musaicum Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Wolfram von Eschenbach's 'Parzival' is a classic medieval epic that follows the adventures of the titular knight as he embarks on a quest for the Holy Grail. Written in the 13th century, this epic poem combines elements of chivalric romance, courtly love, and Christian symbolism, making it a timeless work that continues to captivate readers today. Von Eschenbach's intricate narrative style and vivid descriptions of battle scenes and courtly etiquette immerse the reader in a world of knights and noblewomen, quests and honor. The themes of redemption and spiritual growth are woven throughout the narrative, challenging the reader to reflect on the nature of knighthood and the pursuit of divine grace. In this enriched edition, we have carefully created added value for your reading experience: - A succinct Introduction situates the work's timeless appeal and themes. - The Synopsis outlines the central plot, highlighting key developments without spoiling critical twists. - A detailed Historical Context immerses you in the era's events and influences that shaped the writing. - A thorough Analysis dissects symbols, motifs, and character arcs to unearth underlying meanings. - Reflection questions prompt you to engage personally with the work's messages, connecting them to modern life. - Hand‐picked Memorable Quotes shine a spotlight on moments of literary brilliance. - Interactive footnotes clarify unusual references, historical allusions, and archaic phrases for an effortless, more informed read.

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Wolfram von Eschenbach

Parzival

Enriched edition.

Introduction, Studies and Commentaries by Aria Baxter

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Edited and published by Musaicum Press, 2021

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Table of Contents

Introduction

Synopsis

Historical Context

Parzival

Analysis

Reflection

Memorable Quotes

Notes

Introduction

Table of Contents

Parzival is a tale about how the desire to excel must be schooled into compassion before it can heal what strength alone cannot. Wolfram von Eschenbach’s poem continually returns to the tension between public honor and private conscience, asking what kind of knowledge makes a knight worthy. Rather than presenting unblemished triumph, it traces a difficult apprenticeship in seeing, listening, and responding. The story’s momentum gathers as naïveté collides with the ramifications of choice, and as ambition learns to kneel before suffering. In this crucible, bravery becomes service, and a quest becomes a transformation of attention.

Composed in the early thirteenth century in Middle High German, Parzival is an Arthurian romance that ranges across courts, forests, and battlefields of a mythic Europe within the orbit of the Holy Roman Empire. Wolfram adapts and enlarges material associated with earlier French sources while forging an independent vision whose scope and theological depth are distinctive. The poem’s world is recognizably courtly, governed by ritual, reputation, and lineage, yet continuously unsettled by wanderers, messengers, and the summons of a mystery that exceeds worldly fame. Readers encounter a setting both ceremonial and raw, a stage where splendor and vulnerability travel together.

At its center stands a youth raised in seclusion by a vigilant mother, who leaves home with little more than borrowed gear and a hunger for renown. His passage to Arthur’s court is marked by blunders both comic and bruising, a rudimentary education in arms and manners, and encounters that reveal that valor without understanding can wound. As companions and challengers refine his aim, he hears of the Grail and is drawn toward a mystery that promises meaning yet refuses easy mastery. The premise is simple, but each step complicates what it might require to deserve one’s dream.

Wolfram’s narrative voice is strikingly present: digressive yet controlled, earnest yet wry, hospitable to doubt and meditation even as it delights in speed and spectacle. The poem interlaces the protagonist’s growth with adventures of other knights, allowing contrast and echo to deepen its questions. Descriptions of armor and pageantry sit alongside intimate reflections on grief, hospitality, and justice. The style is richly figurative, agile in irony, and alive to the limits of human perception. Modern translations convey a cadence that alternates between glittering ceremony and austere counsel, creating a reading experience at once sumptuous, searching, and unexpectedly tender.

Parzival endures because it treats spiritual aspiration as inseparable from the ethics of attention. The poem probes the cost of ignorance, the courage of inquiry, and the difference between pity that looks and compassion that acts. It tests chivalry against care, victory against responsibility, and lineage against chosen kinship. Questions of faith are handled with gravity and nuance, inviting humility without closing doors. Women emerge as stewards of wisdom and limit, redirecting impetuous zeal into patience. Across borders of language and belief, the narrative imagines meeting the unfamiliar not as a threat but as a teacher.

For contemporary readers, the work matters because it reframes heroism as the capacity to notice pain and to answer it with responsibility. Its insight into flawed striving and second chances speaks to debates about leadership, accountability, and the uses of power. Parzival helped shape European understandings of the Grail and of knightly identity, and its afterlife reaches into music and modern literature, including Wagner’s Parsifal. Yet its urgency is not antiquarian: it asks how institutions and individuals might heal what they have helped to wound. In that question, the poem’s age seems less distant than diagnostic.

Approach Parzival expecting both grandeur and awkwardness, for the poem honors beginnings and failures as much as dazzling feats. Its episodes can feel expansive, but the interlacing of scenes rewards patience, and the narrator’s candor offers guidance through uncertainty. Attending to recurring images, repeated names, and moments of withheld or offered speech clarifies its moral design. In a reliable translation, the poem remains lucid, strange, and humane. What begins as a quest for status becomes an education in care, reminding readers that the hardest victories are inward and that attention, rightly given, can become a form of grace.

Synopsis

Table of Contents

Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival, composed in the early thirteenth century in Middle High German, reshapes Arthurian material into a sweeping romance of knighthood and spiritual inquiry. The poem combines martial exploits, courtly love, and a searching meditation on guilt, grace, and the limits of worldly honor. Its narrative sets out from questions of lineage and destiny, tracing how inherited burdens and choices intersect. Beginning before its hero’s birth, the work frames Parzival’s story as the outcome of past ambitions and renunciations, establishing a world where courage alone is insufficient, and where a mysterious Grail community and a wounded king cast a long, unsettling shadow.

Gahmuret, a restless champion, seeks honor across distant courts and battlefields, forging alliances that leave a complicated legacy. His death early in the saga anchors the cost of renown, while Herzeloyde, Parzival’s widowed mother, withdraws to the forest to shield her son from the dangers of knighthood. Raised in isolation, Parzival grows brave but ignorant of customs and names. A chance encounter with armored riders ignites his desire to join King Arthur’s court. He sets out in crude garments with earnest zeal, carrying both his mother’s protective counsel and a naïve certainty that valor alone will suffice in a world governed by subtle codes.

At Arthur’s hall, Parzival’s innocence yields comic and troubling missteps, yet his raw courage proves undeniable. He gains armor from a formidable foe and receives instruction from Gurnemanz, a mentor who teaches restraint, courtesy, and the perils of idle questioning. This training tempers bravado with prudence, preparing him to aid Condwiramurs, a beleaguered young queen whose realm suffers siege and famine. Through service and mutual loyalty, Parzival wins her hand, discovering that fidelity and measured speech can stabilize courts as surely as strength of arms. Still drawn onward by ambition and curiosity, he departs again, seeking renown while scarcely grasping the deeper claims of compassion.

A path of chance and omen brings him to a secluded castle whose host, a taciturn nobleman, suffers from an unhealed wound. Parzival witnesses a solemn procession featuring enigmatic objects, among them a radiant vessel and a spear that bleeds, tokens of a community bound to an ineffable mystery. Remembering his lessons about discretion, he restrains the impulse to inquire, and at dawn finds the castle emptied of welcome. What seemed prudence becomes failure, and he learns belatedly that silence can wound. The episode marks a turning point: worldly success no longer aligns with inner worth, and the quest acquires a moral burden.

Word of his lapse reaches Arthur’s circle, and the fearsome messenger Cundrie denounces Parzival publicly, severing him from courtly favor. Shaken, he rejects easy consolations and commits to wandering until he understands the demands placed upon him. Wolfram interlaces these years with an extensive counter-plot following Gawain, whose trials in love, loyalty, and ambiguous hospitality explore the practical limits of courtesy and oath. The alternation sets Parzival’s inward crisis against Gawain’s outward entanglements, testing the chivalric code across varied terrains. Both strands examine how honor can mislead as much as guide, and how appearances conceal the questions that truly matter.

In retreat from warfare, Parzival finds a spiritual teacher in the hermit Trevrizent, who reframes his failures as opportunities for contrition and discernment. He learns of hidden kinship, the gravity of inherited guilt, and the primacy of grace over prowess. Renewed, he resumes the search with tempered courage. The poem’s horizons widen further when Parzival encounters Feirefiz, a celebrated warrior from afar whose bonds of blood complicate notions of difference and belonging. Their meeting expands the quest beyond a single court or creed, suggesting that truth must reconcile divided worlds. Through ordeal and companionship, Parzival moves toward a test only compassion can meet.

Wolfram’s epic threads the perils of pride, silence, and haste into a sustained reflection on what it means to ask rightly and to act mercifully. By balancing court adventure with contemplative pauses, the poem challenges the adequacy of ritual, reputation, and force, implying that healing requires empathy as well as valor. Its inventive structure, wide-ranging geography, and psychological nuance helped transform Arthurian tradition, shaping later treatments of the Grail and the knightly conscience. Even without detailing the final resolution, Parzival endures as a study in maturation: a journey from dazzled ambition toward responsible attention to suffering, and a vision of community knit by care.

Historical Context

Table of Contents

Wolfram von Eschenbach composed Parzival in the early thirteenth century within the German‑speaking regions of the Holy Roman Empire. Written in Middle High German for aristocratic courts, the romance belongs to the flowering of vernacular literature around 1190–1220. Wolfram was an eminent Minnesänger and narrative poet active c. 1200–1220. Parzival, exceeding 24,000 lines in rhymed couplets and customarily divided into sixteen books, reworks Arthurian subject matter into a distinctly German epic. Its primary audiences were lay nobles whose education, ethical instruction, and entertainment were centered at itinerant courts and noble households increasingly tied to princely patronage, ceremonial display, and interregional cultural exchange.

The poem emerged during contested imperial politics after Emperor Henry VI’s death in 1197. Rival claims by Philip of Swabia and Otto IV from 1198 fragmented loyalties until Frederick II consolidated power in the 1210s. Such conflicts trained attention on vassalage, sworn fidelity, counsel, and reputation—key values of the knightly estate. Courts circulated through territories, staging tournaments, oaths, and negotiations that made public honor measurable. These institutions furnished the behavioral ideals—honor (êre), fidelity (triuwe), moderation (mâze)—that Arthurian narratives dramatized. Parzival’s emphasis on knighthood, lineage, and service reflects an environment where martial prowess required moral authorization and princely recognition to be legitimate.

Parzival participates in the migration of Arthurian romance from northern French courts to German‑speaking Europe. Chrétien de Troyes’s Perceval introduced the Grail motif in the 1180s; Hartmann von Aue adapted Erec and Iwein soon after, establishing the courtly romance in Middle High German. Wolfram builds on these models while acknowledging alternative sources and reshaping materials with notable independence. He employs the rhymed couplet (Reimpaarvers), extended digressions, and a narrator whose learned, sometimes ironic voice addresses courtly listeners. This literary moment welcomed sophisticated reworkings of inherited tales, embedding ethical and theological inquiry within adventures that traverse imagined Arthurian geographies and intersect with contemporary cultural concerns.

The work’s moral vocabulary draws on the intense religious climate of the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. Monastic reforms, especially Cistercian spirituality, emphasized interior discipline and grace, while crusading rhetoric linked knightly action to penitential aims. The Fourth Crusade (1202–1204) and the Fourth Lateran Council (1215) framed debates over sin, confession, and ecclesial authority that reached lay audiences. Lay piety grew through pilgrimage, relic veneration, charitable foundations, and confraternities. Parzival reflects this world by asking how a warrior’s honor relates to divine judgment and whether lineage, intention, and contrition can reconcile worldly striving with salvation‑oriented ethics recognized across Latin Christendom.

High medieval courtly culture shaped expectations for conduct, speech, and love. The Minnesang tradition coded desire within ritualized service to noble ladies, who exercised cultural authority through adjudication of etiquette, literary patronage, and matchmaking. Marriage secured inheritance and territorial alliances, linking erotic narratives to legal and dynastic strategy. Education for young nobles combined weapons training with instruction in rhetoric, music, and manners under clerical or household tutors. Parzival stages the formation of a knight within this environment, where mastery of combat must be matched by social tact and moral discretion, and where female counsel, kinship claims, and court approval determine a hero’s standing.

Aristocratic mobility underpinned the romance’s settings and transmission. Knights, envoys, and performers moved along trade and pilgrimage routes connecting German principalities to France, England, the Low Countries, and Italy. Courts at places such as Mainz, Vienna, and Thuringia hosted audiences who prized narratives of distant courts and marvels. Parzival’s imagined itineraries mirror this mobility, while its performance context—recitation or reading aloud in halls—favored episodic structure, memorable aphorisms, and suspenseful pauses. Manuscript production in monastic and urban scriptoria preserved and embellished the text in subsequent decades, showing sustained demand among nobles and urban elites for complex Arthurian stories told in the vernacular.

Parzival circulated widely from the mid‑thirteenth century onward, surviving in numerous manuscripts and fragments, some richly illuminated. Its prestige positioned Wolfram alongside Hartmann von Aue and Gottfried von Straßburg as a leading poet of the classical period of Middle High German literature. Wolfram’s other works, including the crusade‑themed Willehalm and the fragmentary Titurel, confirm his sustained engagement with questions of faith, warfare, and noble identity. The poem’s transmission across regions and generations indicates that audiences valued its integration of spiritual counsel with courtly adventure, an integration anchored in the institutions and ethical discourses of its formative historical moment.

Against this backdrop, Parzival both affirms and interrogates courtly ideals. It elevates noble lineage, prowess, and service, yet insists that reputation without informed judgment can fail the tests of conscience and community. The narrative reworks French models to examine how ignorance, remorse, and instruction reshape a knight’s calling, and it treats the Grail as a touchstone for moral and spiritual evaluation rather than a mere marvel. In doing so, the poem reflects early thirteenth‑century efforts to harmonize knightly ambition with Christian ethics while critiquing complacent ritual, inattentive governance, and the assumption that birth or ceremony alone guarantees right action.

Parzival

Main Table of Contents

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 1

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION

BOOK I. GAMURET

ARGUMENT

BOOK II. HERZELEIDE

ARGUMENT

BOOK III. GURNEMANZ

ARGUMENT

BOOK IV. KONDWIRAMUR

ARGUMENT

BOOK V. ANFORTAS

ARGUMENT

BOOK VI. ARTHUR

ARGUMENT

BOOK VII. OBILOT

ARGUMENT

BOOK VIII. ANTIKONIE

ARGUMENT

BOOK IX. TREVREZENT

ARGUMENT

APPENDICES

APPENDIX A. THE ANGEVIN ALLUSIONS OF THE 'PARZIVAL'

THE ORIGIN OF THE HOUSE OF ANJOU

GENEALOGICAL TABLE.

APPENDIX B. THE PROPER NAMES IN 'PARZIVAL'

NOTES

BOOK I

BOOK II

BOOK III

TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK IV. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK V. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK VI. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK VII. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK VIII. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

BOOK IX. TRADITIONAL EVENTS

INTRODUCTION

Table of Contents

In presenting, for the first time, to English readers the greatest work of Germany's greatest mediæval poet, a few words of introduction, alike for poem and writer, may not be out of place. The lapse of nearly seven hundred years, and the changes which the centuries have worked, alike in language and in thought, would have naturally operated to render any work unfamiliar, still more so when that work was composed in a foreign tongue; but, indeed, it is only within the present century that the original text of the Parzival has been collated from the MSS. and made accessible, even in its own land, to the general reader. But the interest which is now felt by many in the Arthurian romances, quickened into life doubtless by the genius of the late Poet Laureate, and the fact that the greatest composer of our time, Richard Wagner, has selected this poem as the groundwork of that wonderful drama, which a growing consensus of opinion has hailed as the grandest artistic achievement of this century, seem to indicate that the time has come when the work of Wolfram von Eschenbach may hope to receive, from a wider public than that of his own day, the recognition which it so well deserves.

Of the poet himself we know but little, save from the personal allusions scattered throughout his works; the dates of his birth and death are alike unrecorded, but the frequent notices of contemporary events to be found in his poems enable us to fix with tolerable certainty the period of his literary activity, and to judge approximately the outline of his life. Wolfram's greatest work, the Parzival, was apparently written within the early years of the thirteenth century; he makes constant allusions to events happening, and to works produced, within the first decade of that period; and as his latest work, the Willehalm, left unfinished, mentions as recent the death of the Landgrave Herman of Thuringia, which occurred in 1216, the probability seems to be that the Parzival was written within the first fifteen years of the thirteenth century. Inasmuch, too, as this work bears no traces of immaturity in thought or style, it is probable that the date of the poet's birth cannot be placed much later than 1170.

The name, Wolfram von Eschenbach, points to Eschenbach in Bavaria as in all probability the place of his birth, as it certainly was of his burial. So late as the end of the seventeenth century his tomb, with inscription, was to be seen in the Frauen-kirche of Ober-Eschenbach, and the fact that within a short distance of the town are to be found localities mentioned in his poems, such as Wildberg, Abenberg, Trühending, Wertheim, etc., seems to show that there, too, the life of the poet-knight was spent.

By birth, as Wolfram himself tells us, he belonged to the knightly order (Zum Schildesamt bin Ich geboren), though whether his family was noble or not is a disputed point, in any case Wolfram was a poor man, as the humorous allusions which he makes to his poverty abundantly testify. Yet he does not seem to have led the life of a wandering singer, as did his famous contemporary, Walther von der Vogelweide; if Wolfram journeyed, as he probably did, it was rather in search of knightly adventures, he tells us: 'Durchstreifen muss Der Lande viel, Wer Schildesamt verwalten will,' and though fully conscious of his gift of song, yet he systematically exalts his office of knight above that of poet. The period when Wolfram lived and sang, we cannot say wrote, for by his own confession he could neither read nor write ('I'ne kan decheinen buochstap,' he says in Parzival; and in Willehalm, 'Waz an den buochen steht geschrieben, Des bin Ich kunstelos geblieben'), and his poems must, therefore, have been orally dictated, was one peculiarly fitted to develop his special genius. Under the rule of the Hohenstaufen the institution of knighthood had reached its highest point of glory, and had not yet lapsed into the extravagant absurdities and unrealities which characterised its period of decadence; and the Arthurian romances which first found shape in Northern France had just passed into Germany, there to be gladly welcomed, and to receive at the hands of German poets the impress of an ethical and philosophical interpretation foreign to their original form.

It was in these romances that Wolfram, in common with other of his contemporaries, found his chief inspiration; in the Parzival, his master-work, he has told again the story of the Quest for, and winning of, the Grail; told it in connection with the Perceval legend, through the medium of which, it must be remembered, the spiritualising influence of the Grail myth first came into contact with the brilliant chivalry and low morality of the original Arthurian romances; and told it in a manner that is as truly mediæval in form as it is modern in interpretation. The whole poem is instinct with the true knightly spirit; it has been well called Das Hohelied von Rittertum, the knightly song of songs, for Wolfram has seized not merely the external but the very soul of knighthood, even as described in our own day by another German poet; Wolfram's ideal knight, in his fidelity to his plighted word, his noble charity towards his fellow-man, lord of the Grail, with Its civilising, humanising influence, is a veritable 'true knight of the Holy Ghost.' In a short introduction such as this it is impossible to discuss with any fulness the fascinating problems connected with this poem, one can do no more than indicate where the principal difficulties lie. These may be briefly said to be chiefly connected with the source from which Wolfram derived his poem, and with the interpretation of its ethical meaning. That Wolfram drew from a French source we know from his own statement, he quotes as his authority a certain 'Kiot the Provençal,' who, in his turn, found his information in an Arabian MS. at Toledo. Unfortunately no such poet, and no such poem, are known to us, while we do possess a French version of the story, Li Conte del Graal, by Chrêtien de Troyes, which, so far as the greater part of the poem (i.e. Books III. to XIII.) is concerned, shows a remarkable agreement not only in sequence of incidents, but even in verbal correspondence, with Wolfram's work. Chrêtien, however, does not give either the first two or the last three books as we find them in Wolfram. The account of Perceval's father, and of his death, is by another hand than Chrêtien's, and does not agree with Wolfram's account; and the poem, left unfinished by Chrêtien, has been continued and concluded at great length by at least three other writers, who have evidently drawn from differing sources; whereas Wolfram's conclusion agrees closely with his introduction, and his whole poem forms the most harmonious and complete version of the story we possess. Wolfram knew Chrêtien's poem, but refers to it with contempt as being the wrong version of the tale, whereas 'Kiot' had told the venture aright. The question then is, where did Wolfram really find those portions of his poems which he could not have drawn from Chrêtien? Is 'Kiot' a real, or a feigned, source?

Some German critics have opined that Wolfram really knew no other poem than Chrêtien's, and that he boldly invented all that he did not find there, feigning another source in order to conceal the fact. Others have maintained that whether 'Kiot' be the name of the writer or not, Wolfram certainly had before him a French poem other than Li Conte del Graal.

It certainly seems in the highest degree improbable that a German poet should have introduced the Angevin element, lacking in Chrêtien; Wolfram's presentment of the Grail, too, differs in toto from any we find elsewhere, with him it is not the cup of the Last Supper, but a precious stone endowed with magical qualities. It is true that Chrêtien does not say what the Grail was, but simply that 'du fin or esmereeestoit, pieres pressieuses avoit el graal de maintes manieres,' yet it seems scarcely likely that Wolfram should have interpreted this as a precious stone, to say nothing of sundry Oriental features peculiar to his description. But whence Wolfram derived his idea of the Grail is a problem which it is to be feared will never now be completely solved.

The discussion as to the ethical meaning Wolfram attached to the story seems more hopeful of results, as here we do possess the requisite data, and can study the poem for ourselves. The question between critics is whether Wolfram intended to teach a purely religious lesson or not; whether the poem is an allegory of life, and Parzival a symbol of the Soul of man, hovering between Faith and Doubt, perplexed by the apparent injustice of God's dealings with men, and finally fighting its way through the darkness of despair to the clear light of renewed faith in God; or have we here a glorification of the knightly ideal? a declaration of the poet-knight's belief that in loyal acceptance of, and obedience to, the dictates of the knightly order, salvation is to be won? Can the true knight, even though he lack faith in God, yet by keeping intact his faith with man, by very loyalty and steadfastness of purpose, win back the spiritual blessing forfeited by his youthful folly? Is Parzival one of those at whose hands 'the Kingdom of Heaven suffereth violence'? It may well be that both these interpretations are, in a measure, true, that Wolfram found the germ of the religious idea already existing in his French source, but that to the genius of the German poet we owe that humanising of the ideal which has brought the Parzival into harmony with the best aspirations of men in all ages. This, at least, may be said with truth, that of all the romances of the Grail cycle, there is but one which can be presented, in its entirety, to the world of to-day with the conviction that its morality is as true, its human interest as real, its lesson as much needed now as it was seven hundred years ago, and that romance is the Parzival of Wolfram von Eschenbach.

Some words as to the form of the original poem, and the method followed in translation, may be of interest to the reader. The original Parzival is a poem of some 25,000 lines, written in an irregular metre, every two lines rhyming, reim-paar. Among modern German translators considerable difference of opinion as to the best method of rendering the original appears to exist. Simrock has retained the original form, and adheres very closely to the text; his version certainly gives the most accurate idea of Wolfram's style; San Marte has allowed himself considerable freedom in versification, and, unfortunately, also in translation; in fact, he too often gives a paraphrase rather than a reproduction of the text. Dr. Bötticher's translation omits the Gawain episodes, and, though close to the original, has discarded rhyme. It must be admitted that Wolfram is by no means easy to translate, his style is obscure and crabbed, and it is often difficult to interpret his meanings with any certainty. The translator felt that the two points chiefly to be aimed at in an English version were, that it should be faithful to the original text, and easy to read. The metre selected was chosen for several reasons, principally on account of the length of the poem, which seemed to render desirable a more flowing measure than the short lines of the original; and because by selecting this metre it was possible to retain the original form of reim-paar. As a general rule one line of the English version represents two of the German poem, but the difference of language has occasionally demanded expansion in order to do full justice to the poet's meaning. Throughout, the translator's aim has been to be as literal as possible, and where the differing conventionalities of the thirteenth and nineteenth centuries have made a change in the form of expression necessary, the meaning of the poet has been reproduced, and in no instance has a different idea been consciously suggested. That there must of necessity be many faults and defects in the work the writer is fully conscious, but in the absence of any previous English translation she can only hope that the present may be accepted as a not altogether inadequate rendering of a great original; if it should encourage others to study that original for themselves, and learn to know Wolfram von Eschenbach, while at the same time they learn better to understand Richard Wagner, she will feel herself fully repaid.

* * * * *

The translator feels that it may be well to mention here the works which have been principally relied on in preparing the English translation and the writers to whom she is mostly indebted.

For the Text Bartsch's edition of the original Parzival, published in Deutsche Classiker des Mittelalters, has been used throughout, in connection with the modern German translation by Simrock.

In preparing the Notes use has been made of Dr. Bötticher's Introduction to his translation of the Parzival, and the same writer'sDas Hohelied von Rittertum; San Marte's translation has also been occasionally referred to.

The Appendix on proper names has been mainly drawn up from Bartsch's article on the subject in Germanistische Studien; and that on the Angevin allusions from Miss Norgate's England under theAngevin Kings, though the statements have been verified by reference to the original chronicles.

For all questions connected with the Perceval legend in its varying forms the authority consulted has been Studies on the Legend of theHoly Grail, by Mr. Alfred Nutt, to whom, personally, the translator is indebted for much valuable advice and assistance in preparing this book for publication.

BOOK I GAMURET

Table of Contents

ARGUMENT

Table of Contents

In the Introduction the poet tells of the evil of doubt and unsteadfastness—against which he would warn both men and women; he will tell them a tale which shall speak of truth and steadfastness, and in which many strange marvels shall befall.

Book I. tells how Gamuret of Anjou at the death of his father, King Gandein, refused to become his brother's vassal, and went forth to seek fame and love-guerdon for himself. How he fought under the Baruch[1] before Alexandria, and came to Patelamunt. How Queen Belakané was accused of having caused the death of her lover Eisenhart, and was besieged by two armies, which Friedebrand, King of Scotland, Eisenhart's uncle, had brought against her. How Gamuret defeated her foemen, and married the Queen, and became King of Assagog and Zassamank. How he grew weary for lack of knightly deeds, and sailed away in secret from Queen Belakané, and left her a letter telling of his name and race. How Feirifis was born, and how Gamuret came to Seville.

BOOK I

GAMURET

If unfaith in the heart find dwelling, then the soul it shall reap but woe[1q];And shaming alike and honour are his who such doubt shall show,For it standeth in evil contrast with a true man's dauntless might,As one seeth the magpie's plumage, which at one while is black and white.And yet he may win to blessing; since I wot well that in his heart, 5Hell's darkness, and light of Heaven, alike have their lot and partBut he who is false and unsteadfast, he is black as the darkest night,And the soul that hath never wavered stainless its hue and white!

This my parable so fleeting too swift for the dull shall be,Ere yet they may seize its meaning from before their face 'twill flee,10As a hare that a sound hath startled: yea, metal behind the glass,And a blind man's dream yield visions that as swift from the eye do pass,For naught shall they have that endureth! And at one while 'tis bright and sad,And know of a truth that its glory but for short space shall make ye glad.And what man shall think to grip me, where no hair for his grasp shall grow,15In the palm of mine hand? The mystery of a close clasp he sure doth know!

If I cry aloud in such peril, it 'seemeth my wisdom well.Shall I look for truth where it fleeteth? In the fire that the stream doth quell,Or the dew that the sun doth banish? Ne'er knew I a man so wise,But was fain to learn the wisdom my fable doth ill disguise, 20And the teaching that springeth from it: for so shall he ne'er delayTo fly and to chase as shall fit him, to shun and to seek alway,And to give fitting blame and honour. He who knoweth the twain to tell,In their changing ways, then wisdom has tutored that man right well.And he sits not o'er-long at leisure, nor his goal doth he overreach,25But in wisdom his ways discerning, he dealeth with all and each.But his comrade, of heart unfaithful, in hell-fire shall his portion be,Yea, a hailstorm that dims the glory of a knightly fame is he.As a short tail it is, his honour, that but for two bites holds good,When the steer by the gad-fly driven doth roam thro' the lonely wood.30

And tho' manifold be my counsel not to men alone I'ld speak,For fain would I show to women the goal that their heart should seek.And they who shall mark my counsel, they shall learn where they may bestowTheir praise and their maiden honour; and the manner of man shall knowWhom they freely may love and honour, and never may fear to rue 35Their maidenhood, and the true love they gave him of heart so true.In God's sight I pray all good women to keep them in wisdom's way,For true shame on all sides doth guard them: such bliss I for them would pray.But the false heart shall win false honour—How long doth the thin ice last,If the sun shineth hot as in August? So their praise shall be soon o'erpast.40

Many women are praised for beauty; if at heart they shall be untrue,Then I praise them as I would praise it, the glass of a sapphire hueThat in gold shall be set as a jewel! Tho' I hold it an evil thing,If a man take a costly ruby, with the virtue the stone doth bring,And set it in worthless setting: I would liken such costly stone 45To the heart of a faithful woman, who true womanhood doth own.I would look not upon her colour, nor the heart's roof all men can see,If the heart beateth true beneath it, true praise shall she win from me!

Should I speak of both man and woman as I know, nor my skill should fail,O'er-long would it be my story. List ye now to my wonder-tale: 50And this venture it telleth tidings of love, and anon of woe,Joy and sorrow it bringeth with it. 'Stead of one man if three ye know,And each one of the three hath wisdom and skill that outweigh my skill,Yet o'erstrange shall they find the labour, tho' they toil with a right good-willTo tell ye this tale, which I think me to tell ye myself, alone, 55And worn with their task and weary would they be ere the work was done.

A tale I anew will tell ye, that speaks of a mighty love;Of the womanhood of true women; how a man did his manhood prove;Of one that endured all hardness, whose heart never failed in fight,Steel he in the face of conflict: with victorious hand of might 60Did he win him fair meed of honour; a brave man yet slowly wiseIs he whom I hail my hero! The delight he of woman's eyes,Yet of woman's heart the sorrow! 'Gainst all evil his face he set;Yet he whom I thus have chosen my song knoweth not as yet,For not yet is he born of whom men this wondrous tale shall tell, 65And many and great the marvels that unto this knight befell.

NOW they do to-day as of old time, where a foreign law holds sway(Yea, in part of our German kingdom, as ye oft shall have heard men say),Whoever might rule that country, 'twas the law, and none thought it shame('Tis the truth and no lie I tell ye) that the elder son might claim70The whole of his father's heirdom—And the younger sons must grieve,What was theirs in their father's lifetime, they perforce at his death must leave.Before, all was theirs in common, now it fell unto one alone.So a wise man planned in his wisdom, that the eldest the lands should own,For youth it hath many a fair gift, but old age knoweth grief and pain,75And he who is poor in his old age an ill harvest alone doth gain.Kings, Counts, Dukes (and no lie I tell ye) the law holdeth all as one,And no man of them all may inherit, save only the eldest son,And methinks 'tis an evil custom—So the knight in his youthful pride,Gamuret, the gallant hero, lost his Burg, and his fair lands wide, 80Where his father had ruled with sceptre and crown as a mighty king,Till knighthood, and lust of battle, to his death did the monarch bring.

And all men were sore for his sorrow, who truth and unbroken faithBare ever throughout his lifetime, yea even unto his death.Then the elder son he summoned the princes from out his land, 85And knightly they came, who rightly might claim from their monarch's hand,To hold, as of yore, their fiefdoms. So came they unto his hall,And the claim of each man he hearkened, and gave fiefs unto each and all.

Now hear how they dealt—As their true heart it bade them, both great and small,They made to their king petition, with one voice from the people all,90That to Gamuret grace and favour he would show with true brother's hand,And honour himself in the doing. That he drive him not from the landBut give him, within his kingdom, a fair Burg that all men might see,That he take from that Burg his title, and he held of all tribute free!—Nor the king was ill-pleased at their pleading, and he quoth, 'A small grace, I trow,95Have ye asked, I would e'en be better than your prayer, as ye straight shall know,Why name ye not this my brother as Gamuret Angevin[2]?Since Anjou is my land, I think me the title we both may win!'

Then further he spake, the monarch, 'My brother in sooth may seekYet more from my hand of favour than my mouth may as swiftly speak,100With me shall he have his dwelling—I would that ye all should seeHow one mother alike hath borne us; his riches but small shall be,While I have enough; of free hand would I give him both lands and gold,That my bliss may be ne'er held forfeit by Him, Who can aye withhold,Or give, as He deemeth rightful!' Then the princes they heard alway,105How the king would deal well with his brother, and they deemed it a joyful day!

And each one bowed him low before him. Nor Gamuret long delayed,But he spake as his heart would bid him, and friendly the words he said:'Now hearken, my lord and brother, if vassal I think to beTo thee, or to any other, then a fair lot awaiteth me. 110But think thou upon mine honour, for faithful art thou and wise,And give counsel as shall beseem thee, and help as thou shalt devise.For naught have I now save mine armour, if within it I more had done,Then far lands should speak my praises, and remembrance from men were won!'Then further he spake, the hero: 'Full sixteen my squires shall be,115And six of them shall bear harness; four pages give thou to meOf noble birth and breeding, and nothing to them I'll spareOf all that my hand may win them. Afar in the world I'ld fare,(Somewhat I ere now have journeyed,) if Good Fortune on me shall smile,I may win from fair women favour. If a woman I serve awhile, 120And to serve her she hold me worthy, and my heart speaketh not amiss,True knight shall I be and faithful! God show me the way of bliss!As comrades we rode together (but then o'er thy land did reignThe King Gandein, our father), and sorrow and bitter painWe bare for Love's sake! At one while I knew thee as thief and knight,125Thou couldst serve, and thou couldst dissemble, for the sake of thy lady bright.Ah! could I steal love as thou couldst, if my skill were but like to thine,That women should show me favour, then a blissful lot were mine!'

'Alas! that I ever saw thee,' spake, sighing, the king so true,'Who lightly, with words of mocking, my heart would in pieces hew 130And would fain that we part asunder! One father hath left us bothA mighty store of riches, I would share with thee, nothing loth.Right dear from my heart I hold thee; red gold and jewels bright,Folk, weapons, horse, and raiment, take thou as shall seem thee right,That thou at thy will mayst journey, and thy free hand to all be known.135Elect do we deem thy manhood, didst thou Gylstram as birthplace own,Or thou camest here from Rankulat, yet still would that place be thine,Which thou boldest to-day in my favour; true brother art thou of mine!'

'Sir King, thou of need must praise me, so great is thy courtesy!So, courteous, thine aid be given, if thou and my mother free 140Will share with me now your riches, I mount upward, nor fear to fall,And my heart ever beateth higher—Yet I know not how I should callThis life, which my left breast swelleth! Ah! whither wouldst go mine heart?I would fain know where thou shalt guide me—'Tis time that we twain should part.'

And all did the monarch give him, yea, more than the knight might crave,145Five chargers, picked and chosen, the best in his land he gaveHigh-couraged, swift to battle; and many a cup of gold,And many a golden nugget, for naught would his hand withhold.Four chests for the road he gave him, with many a jewel rareWere they filled. Then the squires he took him who should for the treasure care,150And well were they clad and mounted; and none might his grief withholdWhen the knight gat him unto his mother, who her son in her arms did fold.

Spake the woman, as woman grieving: 'Wilt thou tarry with me no more,King Gandein's son? Woe is me! yet my womb this burden boreAnd the son of my husband art thou. Is the eye of God waxed blind, 155Or His ear grown deaf in the hearing, that my prayer doth no credence find?Is fresh sorrow to be my portion? I have buried my heart's desire,And the light of mine eyes; will He rob me, who have suffered a grief so dire,Who judgeth with righteous judgment? Then the tale it hath told a lie,That spake of His help so mighty, Who doth help unto me deny!' 160

'God comfort thee,' quoth the hero, 'for the death of my father dear,For truly we both must mourn him—But I think from no lips to hearSuch wailing for my departing! As valour shall show the way,I seek knighthood in distant countries—So it standeth with me to-day.'

Quoth the queen, 'Since to high love's service thou turnest both hand and heart,165Sweet son, let it not displease thee to take of my wealth a partThat may serve thee upon thy journey; let thy chamberlain take from meFour chests, each a pack-horse burden, and heavy their weight shall be.And within, uncut, there lieth rich silk of Orient rare,No man as yet hath cut it, and many a samite fair. 170Sweet son, I prithee tell me what time thou wilt come again,That my joy may wax the greater, and I look for thee not in vain!'

'Nay, that I know not, Lady, nor the land that shall see my face,But wherever I take my journey, thou hast shown unto me such graceAs befitteth knightly honour: and the king he hath dealt with me 175In such wise that grateful service his rewarding shall ever be.And this trust have I, O Lady, that for this thou wilt love him moreHenceforward, whate'er the future yet keepeth for me in store.'And as the venture telleth, to the hand of this dauntless knight,Thro' the favour he won from a woman, and the working of true love's might,180Came a token fair, and its value was full thousand marks, I trow,E'en to-day an a Jew were craving a pledge, he would deem enowSuch jewel, and ne'er disdain it—'Twas sent by his lady true,And fame did he win in her service, and her love and her greeting knew,Yet seldom his pain found easing—Then the hero he took his leave 185Of mother, brother, and brother's kingdom, and many I ween must grieveSince his eyes never more beheld them. And all who his friends had been,Ere he passed from the land of his fathers, tho' the grace were but small, I ween,He gave them of thanks full measure; he deemed they too much had done,And, courteous, little thought him, that of right he their love had won!190Straighter his heart than straightness; did one of his praises speakIn a full and fitting measure, then doubt were not far to seek,But ask ye of those his neighbours, or of men who in distant landsHad seen his deeds, then the marvel ye were swifter to understand.

And Gamuret he trode ever where Temperance aye should guide, 195And naught else might rule his doings, nor he boasted him in his prideBut bare great honour meekly; from loose ways he e'er had flown;And he thought him, the gallant hero, that none bare on earth a crown,Were they King, or Queen, or Kaiser, whom he deemed of his service worthWere they not the mightiest reckoned of all monarchs that be on earth.200This will in his heart he cherished—Then men spake, at Bagdad did reignA monarch so strong and powerful, that homage he well might claimFrom two-thirds or more of earth's kingdoms. The heathen his name held great,And they spake of him as the Baruch, and kings did on his bidding wait,And crownèd heads were his servants; and his office it lasts to-day—205See how Christian men baptizèd to Rome wend their pilgrim way,So there was the heathen custom. At Bagdad was their papal right,And the Baruch as 'seemed his office purged their sins with his word of might.

From Pompey and Ipomidon, two brothers of Babylon,Nineveh, the town of their fathers, the Baruch with force had won, 210And bravely 'gainst him they battled. Then came the young Angevin,And the Baruch he showed him favour, yea, he did to his service winGamuret the gallant hero—And he deemed it were well he boreOther arms than Gandein his father had given to him of yore.Then the hero he well bethought him; on his charger's cloth they laid215An anchor of ermine fashioned, and the same at his will they madeFor shield alike and vesture—And green as the emerald rareWas his riding-gear, and 'twas fashioned and wrought of Achmardi fair,('Tis a silken stuff,) and he bade them to make of it at his willBoth blazoned coat and surcoat, (than velvet 'tis richer still;) 220And he bade them to sew upon it the anchor of ermine white,And with golden threads inwoven was the badge of this gallant knight.

And his anchors they never tested or mainland or haven fairAnd found in that place abiding—But the hero must further bearThro' many a land, a brave guest, the load of this heraldry, 225And behind the sign of this anchor but short space might his resting be,And nowhere he found abiding—The tale of the lands he saw,And the vessels in which he sailed him? If the truth unto ye I swore,On mine own oath must I swear it, and my knightly honour trueIn such wise as the venture told me; other witness I never knew! 230

And men say that his manly courage held the prize in far heathendom,In Morocco's land, and in Persia, and elsewhere he high honour won,At Damascus and at Aleppo, and where knightly deeds should be:In Arabia and lands around it was he held of all conflict free,For no man might dare withstand him, he won him such crown of fame;235And his heart for honour lusted, and all deeds were brought to shame,And became as naught before him, as all men bare witness trueWho a joust with him had ridden, and Bagdad of his glory knew.

And his heart never failed or faltered, but onward his course he bareTo Zassamank's land and kingdom; there all men wept that hero fair,240Eisenhart, who in knightly service gave his life for a woman's smile;Belakané thereto constrained him, sweet maid she, and free from guile.(Since her love she never gave him, for love's sake did the hero die,)And his kinsmen would fain avenge him, and with force and with subtletyTheir armies beset the maiden, but in sooth she could guard her well245Ere Gamuret came to her kingdom, and her wrath on her foemen fell.For the Prince Friedebrand of Scotland, and his host that against her cameBy ship, ere he left her kingdom had she wasted with fire and flame.

Now hear what befell our hero; storm-driven he was that day,And scarce might he win to safety, and his boat in the haven lay 250Beneath the royal palace; and the folk they beheld him there,And he looked around on the meadow, and he saw many tents stand fairAround the town, save the sea-coast, and two armies he thought to see.Then he bade them to tell the story, and whose that fair Burg should be?Since he knew it not, nor his shipmen—And an answer they straightway gave,255'Twas Patelamunt; then the townsfolk a boon from the knight would crave,And their speech it was soft and friendly—In the name of their gods they'ld prayHe should help them, so great their peril that in danger of death they lay.

When the young Angevin had hearkened to the tale of their bitter pain,He proffered to them his service for such payment as knight may gain,260(As it oft shall befit a hero)—They should say for what goodly prizeHe should dare the hate of their foemen? And they answered him in this wiseWith one mouth the hale and the wounded—Naught would they from him withhold,But lord should he be of their treasure, of their jewels alike and gold,A fair life should he lead among them!—But such payment he little sought,265For many a golden nugget from Araby had he brought.And dark as night were the people who in Zassamank dwelt alway—And the time it seemed long unto him that he need in their midst must stay—But he bade them prepare a lodging, and methinks it became them wellThe best of their land to give him, since awhile he with them would dwell.270And the women they looked from the windows, and they gazed on the noble knight,And they looked on his squires, and his harness, how 'twas fashioned for deeds of might.Then they saw how the knight, free-handed, on his shield of ermine bareFull many a pelt of sable; the Queen's Marshal he read it fair,The badge, for a mighty anchor, and little he rued the sight, 275If his eye spake the truth unto him ere this had he seen the knight,Or one who bare his semblance—At Alexandria it needs must be,When the Baruch besieged the city—and unequalled in strife was he!

So rode the gallant hero, in stately guise and meet;Ten pack-horses heavy-laden they led first adown the street, 280And twenty squires behind them; and his people they went before,And lackeys, cooks, and cook-boys, at the head of the train they saw.And stately I ween his household, twelve pages of lineage highRode next to the squires, well-mannered, and trained in all courtesy,And Saracens were among them; and behind them in order fair 285Came chargers eight, and a covering of sendal did each one bear.But the ninth it bore a saddle, and the shield ye have known ere nowWas borne by a squire beside it, and joyful his mien, I trow.And trumpeters rode behind it, for in sooth they must needs be there,And a drummer he smote his tambour, and swung it aloft in air. 290And as naught had the hero deemed it, this pomp, if there failed to rideMen who on the flute were skilful, and three fiddlers were at their side,And they hasted not nor hurried; and behind them the hero came,And his shipman he rode beside him, a wise man of goodly fame.

And much folk was within the city, and Moors were both man and maid.295Then the hero he looked around him, and, lo! many a shield displayed,Battle-hewn and with spear-thrust piercèd they hung on each wall and door.And wailing and woe was their portion; for the knight at each window sawMany men lie sorely wounded, who to breathe the air were fain,And e'en tho' a leech might tend them no help might they think to gain300Who were hurt too sore for healing—In the field had they faced the foe,And such shall be their rewarding who in conflict no flight will know—Many horses were led towards him, sword-hewn and with lance thrust through;And on each side stood dusky maidens, and black as the night their hue.

Then his host gave him kindly greeting—and of joy did he reap his meed—305A rich man was he and mighty, and many a knightly deedWith thrust and blow had his hand wrought when his post at the gate he found;And many a knight was with him, and bandaged their heads and bound,And their hands in slings were holden; yet tho' sorely wounded stillThey did many deeds of knighthood, nor were lacking in strength and skill.310

Then the Burg-grave of the city, with fair words did he pray his guestTo deal with him and his household in such wise as should seem him best.And the host, he led the hero to his wife, and courteouslyDid Gamuret kiss the lady, small joy in the kiss had he!Then they sat them down to the table, and e'en as the feast was o'er,315The Marshal he gat him swiftly to the queen, and the tidings bore,And craved from her goodly payment, as to messenger shall be due.And he spake, 'It shall end in gladness, the grief that erewhile we knew,We have welcomed here, O Lady, a knight of such gallant mien,We must thank the gods who have sent him, for our need they have surely seen.'320

'Now tell me upon thine honour who this gallant knight may be?''Lady, a dauntless hero, and the Baruch's man is he,An Angevin he, of high lineage; Ah me! little did he spareHimself, when his foemen seeking he forth to the field would fare.How wisely, with skill and cunning, he avoided the threatening blow,325And turned him again to the onslaught! Much sorrow he wrought his foe—Ere this have I seen him battle, when the princes of BabylonTheir city of Alexandria had fain from the Baruch won,And with force from its walls would drive him, and many a man lay deadIn the overthrow of their army, for their venture was but ill-sped.330And such deeds did he do, this hero, that no counsel was theirs but flight:And there did I hear his praises, for all spake of this gallant knightAs one who, without denial, had won him, in many a land,The crown of true knightly honour, by the strength of his own right hand.

'Now fain would I speak with the hero, see thou to the time and way;335E'en now might he ride to the castle, for peace shall be kept to-day.Were it better that I should seek him? He is other than we in face,Pray Heaven it not displease him, but our need with the knight find grace!I would that I first might know this, ere the rede from my folk I hearThat I show to this stranger honour—If it pleaseth him to draw near,340Say, how shall I best receive him? Shall the knight be so nobly bornThat my kiss be not lost, if I kiss him?' 'Nay, hold me of life forswornIf he be not of kings the kinsman! Lady, this word I'll bearTo thy princes, that they shall clothe them in raiment both fit and fair,And stand before thee, in due order, ere yet to thy court we ride, 345And the same shalt thou say to thy ladies—In the city he doth abide;I will ride below, and will bring him to thy palace, a worthy guest,For no fair or knightly virtue shall be lacking that noble breast.'

But little space they delayed them, for the Marshal, with ready skill,Strove that all in such wise be ordered as should pleasure his lady's will.350But soon did they bear to the hero rich garments, he did them on,And this hath the venture told me that their cost should be hardly won;And thereon lay the anchors, heavy, and wrought of Arabian gold,For so had he willed. Then the hero, who fair payment for love had toldA charger bestrode that 'fore Babylon a knight rode, for jousting fain,355From the saddle did Gamuret smite him, and I wot it hath wrought him pain.

If his host thought to ride beside him? He and his gallant knights?Yea, in sooth they would do so, gladly—So wended they up the height,And dismounted before the palace; and many a knight stood there,And each, as was fit, had clothed him in raiment both rich and fair.360And his pages they ran before him, and each twain they went hand in hand,And in marvellous fair arraying he saw many ladies stand.And the queen, her eyes brought her sorrow as she looked on the Angevin,So lovely was he to look on that he needs must an entrance winThro' the gates of her heart, if 'twere anguish or joy that within he bore,365Tho' her womanhood 'gainst all comers had held them fast closed before.

Then a space did she step towards him, and a kiss from her guest she prayed;And, herself, by the hand she took him and they sat them, both man and maidIn a window wide, that looked forth from the palace upon the foe,And a covering of wadded samite was spread o'er the couch below. 370Is there aught that than day is lighter? Then it likeneth not the queen!Yet else was she fair to look on, as a woman should be, I ween,But unlike to the dew-dipped roses was her colour, yea, black as night.And her crown was a costly ruby, and thro' it ye saw arightHer raven head. Then as hostess she spake to her guest this word, 375That greatly she joyed at his coming, 'Sir, Knight, I such tale have heardOf thy knightly strength and prowess—Of thy courtesy, hear me fair,For fain would I tell of my sorrow, and the woe that my heart doth bear!'

'My help shall not fail thee, Lady! What hath grieved, or doth grieve thee now,I think me aside to turn it, to thy service my hand I vow! 380I am naught but one man only—Who hath wronged or now wrongeth theeMy shield will I hold against him—Little wroth shall thy foeman be!'

Then a prince he spake out courteous, 'The foe would we little spare,Did our host not lack a captain, since Friedebrand hence must fare.He defendeth afar his kingdom—A king, one Hernant by name 385(Whom he slew for the sake of Herlindè) his kinsmen against him came,And evil enow have they wrought him, nor yet from their strife forbear—Yet he left here full many a hero, and among them, Duke HeutegerWith his gallant deeds of knighthood, and his army, hath pressed us sore,They have skill and strength for the conflict. And many a soldier more390With Gaschier of Normandy came here, and a hero wise is he.