And ill did it fare with one dragon, and sore were its wounds that day, 'Twas the crest that aloft in glory on Orilus' helmet lay, 630 And so clear that the light shone thro' them were the costly jewels bright That fell when the helm was smitten by Parzival's sword of might; 'Twas on horse, not afoot, that they fought thus--The love of her angry lord Was won back again for Jeschuté by the play of the glittering sword. Then they dashed again on each other so close that they smote away, 635 With their knees, the rings of iron--So valiant in strife were they! I will tell ye why one was wrathful; that his lady of royal race Ere this had been shamed; her guardian, from him might she look for grace; Yet he deemed that with wandering fancy her heart from her lord had strayed, And that she, in the love of another, her honour had lowly laid. 640 And he would for such wrong have vengeance, and his judgment on her was done In such wise, save were _death_ her portion no woman such woe had won, And yet she in naught had wronged him--If his favour he would withhold, What man e'er might think to hinder? For ever from days of old The man hath power o'er the woman, the husband shall rule the wife. 645 Yet Parzival the hero, he thought him to win with strife For Jeschuté her husband's favour--Methinks one should pray such grace In courteous wise, but flattery it here found but little place. And both they were right, I think me--He who ruleth the ways of life, Or straight they may be or crooked, 'twas His so to rule their strife 650 That never to one nor the other the joust death for guerdon brought, Harm enow had they done to each other the while they so fiercely fought.