And Gurnemanz cried out: "Who shot the swan?
The King had hailed it as a happy sign,
Whene'er a swan came near him in its flight
For since the earliest ages has this bird
Meant hope and health and holiness to men.--
Who dared to do this dastard deed of shame?"
Then came a knight leading a guileless boy
And said: "This is the one who shot the swan,--
And here more arrows like the cruel shaft
That hides itself within the bleeding breast."
To whom spake Gurnemanz: "What mean'st thou, boy,
By such a cruel, shameless deed as this?"
But the boy answered: "Yea, it was my shot.
I shot the swan in flight when high in air."
Then Gurnemanz: "Shame to confess such deed!
Such sacrilege within these holy woods,
Where seems to dwell the perfect peace of God.
Were not the woodland creatures kind to thee,--
Did not the sweet birds sing their songs to thee,
When first thou camest to these leafy haunts?
And this poor swan, so mild and beautiful,---
How could thy heart determine on such deed?
It hovered o'er the lake in circling grace,
Seeking the dear companion of its love,--
For e'en the heart of bird doth know sweet love,--
And seeming to make sacred all the lake.
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