Didst thou not marvel at its queenly flight,
And feel a reverence in thine inmost soul?
What tempted thee to shoot the fatal shaft,
And slay the bird and grieve the loving King?...
See where the deadly arrow smote its breast!
Behold the snowy plumage splashed with blood!
The spreading pinions drooping helpless now,
And in its eye the agony of death!
Slain by thy cruel heart that knows no shame!
Dost thou not see how wicked is thy deed?"
Then was the young boy stricken with remorse,
And drew his hand across his moistened eyes,
As if new pity dawned within his soul;
Then quickly snatching up his strong arched bow,
He broke it, and his arrows flung away.
And clutching at his breast as if in pain
He stood a time in conscious agony,--
Deep feeling surging through his stricken heart;
And then he turned again to Gurnemanz
With the brave words: "I did not understand
What evil I was doing with my bow."
"Whence art thou?" Gurnemanz did ask of him;
And dazed he answered: "That I do not know."
"But who thy father?"--"That I do not know."
"Who sent thee here?"--"I do not know e'en that."
Then Gurnemanz: "Yet tell me but thy name.
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