mystic spring 35 By Karnant, and much fame and honour the blade to its lord did bring! Who believeth me not, he sinneth, for now doth the venture tell How adown a woodland pathway, on his way rode Sir Parzival, (But the hour of his riding I wot not, if in waxing or waning light,) When a hermitage, newly builded, uprose to his wondering sight, 40 And a stream flowed swift beneath it, for 'twas built o'er the brooklet's wave Then in search of some worthy venture to its door rode the hero brave, Nor knew that of grace 'twas the portal, and his footsteps of God were led. But the dweller therein was a maiden, and the days of her joy were sped, For the love of God had she offered her youth, and the joys of earth, 45 And the root of her old-time sorrow brought ever fresh grief to birth. For he found here Schionatulander, and Siguné, his faithful love, Dead and buried he lay, the hero, and the maid wept his tomb above. Tho' but seldom Siguné the Duchess might hearken the Holy Mass, All her life was a prayer, in God's service her nights as her days she'ld pass. 50 And her lips, erst so red and glowing, had faded as life-joys fade, And alone would she mourn such sorrow as never had mourned a maid. Thus denial of love's fulfilling made Love, with her love, to die, And dead, as she living loved him, did she cherish him tenderly. And in sooth had she once his wife been, then ne'er had Lunete braved 55 Her wrath, and had given such counsel, as she once to her lady gave. And today may we look upon women, who never a willing ear Had turned to Lunete, and such wisdom but little had brooked to hear. For this do I know, that a woman who, for love of her lord alone, And thro' virtue of gentle breeding, doth never strange service own, 60 But aye, while her husband liveth, shall be to him wife as true, Heaven giveth in her such blessing as bloometh for ever new! And never shall prayer or fasting robe her with a robe as fair! And I, if the time were fitting, this word naught but truth would swear. Be he dead, she may do as best please her, but if faithful she still abide, 65 Then far fairer such faith than the circlet she beareth at feasting tide!