Then sang the knights this chorus soft and slow; "O holy feast of blessing, Our portion day by day; In thee God's grace possessing, That passeth not away. Who doth the right and true, Here findeth strength anew; This cup his hand may lift, And claim God's holiest gift." And from the mid-height of the lofty dome The voices of the younger knights replied: "As anguished and holy The dear Saviour lowly, For us sinners His own life did offer; So with hearts pure and free, Forever do we Our lives unto Him gladly proffer. He died--our sins atoned for thus,-- He died---yet liveth still in us!" And from the topmost of the glorious dome A chorus of fresh boyish voices came: "The faith doth live! The Lord doth give The Dove, His sacred token! Drink at this board The wine outpoured, And eat the bread here broken!" [Illustration] And as they sang their sweet antiphonies, A long procession through the splendid hall Wended slow way, and bearing in the King, The suffering Amfortas in his pain, Still lying listless on his royal couch. Before him walked a company of boys Clothed in pale blue, and bearing high aloft A mystic shrine in cloth of deepest crimson, To signify the royal blood beneath. And others followed bearing silver flagons With wine, and baskets of the finest bread. Slowly the King was carried to a couch Within the midst, high-raised and canopied, And just before him, of a pure white stone, Traced with faint figures of the passion-flower, Stood the communion table where was placed The sacred shrine, still covered, of the Grail. And when the hymns were ended, and the knights Had taken their set places at the board, Then there was silence. And from far away, As if from some deep cavern of a tomb, Behind the couch where King Amfortas lay The muffled voice of agèd Titurel Spake with long silences between the words: "My son Amfortas, art thou at thy post?... Wilt thou unveil the Grail and bid me live?... Or must I die, denied the saving vision?" And King Amfortas cried in desperate pain: "O woe is me to bear the burning wound That shames me in the office of the Grail! O father, do thou take the sacred trust And let thy holy hands reveal the Grail Once more, and live! And let me quickly die!" But answered him the agèd Titurel: "Nay, nay, too feeble I to serve again. I live entombed with but a breath of life, Saved by the remnant of the grace of God. My strength all gone, but my poor yearning heart Still eager for the vision of the Grail; For this alone can bring me comfort now. Thine is the office. O unveil the Grail! For serving faithfully thou mayst atone For all the grievous sin of thy sad life."