And in these subtle snares full many a knight
Was caught by magic wiles and lured and lost,
And no one knew where they had gone or why.
Then holy Titurel, grown old in years,
Gave up the kingdom to his only son,
The brave Amfortas. And by ceaseless quest
Amfortas learned the truth and waged fierce war
Against this Klingsor, evil to the heart,
Until at last in one unguarded moment,
As I have told you, e'en our noble King,
The good Amfortas, yielded to a sin,--
And lost the Spear, and had his fatal wound.
Now with the Spear within his evil grasp
Klingsor exults, and mockingly does tell
How his black fingers soon will hold the Grail."
[Illustration]
Then the young knights who listened to the tale
Upstarted with the cry: "God give us grace
To wrest that sacred Spear from impious hands!"
But Gurnemanz thus checked them: "Listen yet!
Long did our King Amfortas kneel before
The sanctuary, praying in his pain
And seeking for a word of hope from God.
At length a radiance glowed around the Grail,
And from its glory shone a Sacred Face
That spake this oracle of mystic words:
_"By pity 'lightened,
My guileless One,--
Wait for him,
Till My will is done!"_
And as the knights repeated these weird words,--
There came wild cries and shouting from the lake:
"Shame! shame! alas, the shame to shoot the swan!"
And as they looked, a wild swan came in sight;
It floated feebly o'er the flurried lake
And strove to fly, but wounded fluttered down
And sank upon the lake-shore, and was dead.
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