Yet Parzival still kept silence--for Frau Minne, so fair and young, In a sorer conflict held him--Then his steed Segramor swung Aside, as for jousting ready, round wheeled him the war-horse good On whose back the gallant hero yet sate in mystic mood, And ever he gazed on the blood-drops; as his charger turned him round 145 Awhile from his eyes they vanished, and fame in their stead he found! For swift as the blood-drops crimson thus passed from his dazzled sight, He hearkened the voice of the foeman, and braced him anew for fight. Then as Segramor rode against him, Parzival sought afresh the spear That he found by the woodland chapel, with blazon of colours clear; 150 For tough was the shaft, and he gripped it, and he held the point full low, As his foeman dashed fair against him, his shield rang with the ringing blow. Then he spurred him anew to the onslaught, and the joust he so well repaid, That the knight in his golden armour was low in the snowdrift laid! Yet still was the spear unsplintered, tho' it bare him from off his horse; 155 And Parzival still kept silence, and he wheeled him upon his course, And his eyes sought once more the blood-drops, and e'en as they met his sight Frau Minne with fetters bound him, and held him in cords of might, And he spake never word, nor question, but gazed ever upon the ground, And, dreaming, he lost the knowledge which he for a space had found! 160 But affrighted, the gallant charger had fled back into its stall, And its rider arose, little comfort might he find, though he soft might fall! Outstretched had he lain in the snowdrift, in such wise e'en as men shall go To rest, yet but ill he sleepeth, who sleepeth on couch of snow! And such bed had sorrow brought me! for he to whom ill betides 165 Hath but mocking for his bedfellow, but the lucky doth God's hand guide.