And so fierce was the fight that the horses, out-wearied with conflict sore, 525 Stumbled and fell together, in sooth could they do no more. And joyful they smote, the heroes, till fire from the helm must spring, Small time had they there for leisure, but zeal to their task must bring; And the shields were hewn in pieces, and the splinters were tossed on high, As shuttlecocks gaily smitten to the winds of heaven fly. 530 Yet Gamuret's son was unwearied, and never a limb did ache, Tho' Klamidé deemed that the foemen from the city the truce would break. Then he bade his fellow-foeman to look to his honour well, And stay the hand of the slingers, for the blows heavy on him fell As of stones shot forth from an engine--But Parzival made reply, 535 'Nay, safe art thou from the slingers, my word is thy surety, Thou hast peace from mine hand, and I swear thee that never a sling shall break Head, or breast, or thigh, thou art safe here, were it but for mine honour's sake!' All too soon was Klamidé wearied and spent with the deadly fight, Who was victor, and who was vanquished, ere long might be seen aright, 540 And they looked on the King Klamidé, on the grass was he laid alow, And Parzival's right hand gripped him till forth streamed the crimson flow Of blood from the ears and nostrils, and the green turf was dyed with red; And his foeman unbound the helmet and visor, and bared his head, The vanquished would face the death-blow, and the victor spake, 'Here I free 545 My wife for aye from thy wooing! Learn thou what Death may be!'