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 softly all the knights cried: "'Tis God's will
That thou shouldst wait in suffering, yet hope....
Fulfil thy duty: and reveal the Grail!"
While deep the voice of aged Titurel:
"Unveil the Grail! Sir knights, unveil the Grail!"
Then they took off the cloth all purple-red,
And slowly brought to light the golden shrine,
And from it took the antique crystal Cup,--
Forever cherished as the Holy Grail,--
And set it on the table near the King,
Who writhed in silent anguish on his couch.
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