With skill do they wield their weapons, and sparks spring from the helmets fair, And a whistling wind ariseth as the blades cleave the summer air; God have Gamuret's son in His keeping! and the prayer it shall stand for both, 145 For the twain shall be one nor, I think me, to own it were either loth. For had they but known each other their stake ne'er had been so great, For blessing, and joy, and honour, were risked on that combat's fate, For he who shall here be victor, if true brother and knight he be, Of all this world's joy is he forfeit, nor from grief may his heart be free! 150
Sir Parzival, why delay thee to think on thy queen and wife, Her purity and her beauty, if here thou wouldst save thy life? For the heathen, he bare two comrades who kindled his strength anew, The one, in his strong heart, steadfast, lay ever a love so true; And the other, the precious jewels that burnt with a mystic glow, 155 Thro' whose virtue his strength waxed greater, and his heart must fresh courage know. And it grieveth me sore that the Christian was weary and faint with fight, Nor swiftly might he avoid him, and his blows they were robbed of might; And if the twain fail to aid thee, O thou gallant Parzival, Thy queen and the Grail, then I think me this thought it shall help thee well, 160 Shall thy fair babes thus young be orphaned? Kardeiss and Lohengrin, Whom thy wife, e'en as thou didst leave her, for her joy and her hope must win-- For children thus born in wedlock, the pledge of a love so pure, I ween are a man's best blessing, and a joy that shall aye endure!
New strength did he win, the Christian, and he thought, none too soon, I ween, 165 On his love so true and faithful, on Kondwiramur, his queen, How he won his wife at the sword's point, when sparks from the helm did spring 'Neath the mighty blows he dealt him, Klamidé, the warrior king. 'Tabronit! and Thasmé!' and above them rung clear his battle-cry, 'Pelrapär!' as aloud he cried it to his aid did his true love fly, 170 O'er kingdoms four she sought him, and her love gave him strength anew, And lo! from the shield of the heathen the costly splinters flew, Each one a hundred marks' worth--and the sword so strong and keen That Ither of Gaheviess bare first brake sheer on the helmet's sheen, And the stranger, so rich and valiant, he stumbled, and sought his knee-- 175 For God, He no longer willed it that Parzival lord should be Of this weapon of which in his folly he had robbed a gallant knight-- Then up sprang afresh the heathen who ne'er before fell in fight, Not yet is the combat ended, and the issue for both shall stand In the power of the God of battles, and their life lieth in His hand! 180