"
Then Gurnemanz again: "This were light toil,--
For days of saddest peace have come to us,
And deeds of valiant arms no more are done.
A dark despair is over Monsalvat;
No messengers are sent to distant parts
To stir the hearts of fighting warriors;
Like every creature of the leafy woods,
Each man doth serve himself in daily needs."
But Kundry had perceived the hermit-hut,
And knew that she could serve in little things;
And unto it she went to find some task.
And Gurnemanz deep wondered, and he spoke:
"How unlike days of yore her step and way,--
Grace in her step and grace in countenance.
Perchance God giveth grace to her sad heart.
Perchance this holy morn hath wrought the change.
O day of boundless mercy, 'twas for this--
Her soul's salvation and another life--
That I have wakened her from sleep of death!
See, with a pitcher comes she from the hut,
And fills it at the spring!... But who is this
That now I see approaching through the woods
And drawing slowly near the holy spring?
Yon knight is not a brother of the Grail,
With all that war accoutrement of gloom."
And one drew near, a splendid armored knight,
His armor shining black as darkest night,
His helmet closed, and lowered was his spear.
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