For since that morning when thou first wert here,
The sorrow and the anguish that thou heard'st
Have grown until the woe has covered all.
And King Amfortas, soul and body wracked,
Did crave in desperation only death,
And so refused to show the Holy Grail.
No prayer, no sorrow of his brother-knights
Could move him to fulfil his sacred trust.
Close in its shrouded shrine the Cup remained.
For King Amfortas hopes that if his eyes
Shall see the Grail no more, that he may die,
And with his life thus end his bitter pain.
The holy Supper also is denied us,--
Our daily portion only common food.
Thereby exhausted is our former strength.
No more the cry for succor comes to us,
Nor call to holy war from distant lands;
But pale and wretched wander forth the knights,
Hopeless and leaderless in these dark days.
Here in the forest I myself have hid,
In quiet waiting for the hour of death,
Already come unto my warrior-lord,
The aged Titurel. For when no more
He could behold the vision of the Grail,
Then did his sad heart fail him, and he died."
And Parsifal in sudden sorrow cried:
"What have I done to let this curse go on?
Why have I wasted all these precious years
In wandering, while here was deepest woe?
Why did I never see the needed truth
That no repentance can assuage the grief,
No expiation can atone the wrong,
Until another feels the bitter pain,
And takes it willingly to his own heart?
Here I was chosen to redeem the wrong,
And save the anguish of the stricken King,
And yet how blind has been my foolish heart!
Can blindness mean impurity and sin,
And may it be that I am all deceived,--
My way all lost, my hopes forever gone?"
And in the bitter struggle of his soul,
And in the self-abasement of his heart,
And in the strong reaction that oft comes
To spiritual natures, deep and fine,
He would have fallen helpless to the ground;
But Gurnemanz quick caught him in his arms,
And led him sinking to a grassy mound,
And Kundry ran with water for his brow.
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