But the victor's steed sped onward, and in vain would he check its flight Ere it fell, and well-nigh in falling had borne to his death the knight. A cedar o'erhung the chasm, its bough Parzival gripped fast, (Nor think ye scorn of my hero, that, as chanceth a thief at last, 210 He hung, for none spake his judgment, he hung there by his own hand) His feet, for a foothold seeking, on the rock found at last their stand: Far out of his reach, beneath him, his gallant steed lay dead, Up the further side of the valley the Templar for safety fled. Think ye that he much might pride him on his token from Parzival? 215 Far better at home in Monsalväsch had he fared with the wondrous Grail! To the plain once more climbed our hero, there the steed of the Templar stood, For down to the ground hung the bridle and fettered the war-horse good. As the knight in his flight forgat it so it stood where its master fell, Swift Parzival sprang to the saddle, such booty might please him well. 220 Of a truth his spear had he shattered, yet more than he lost he won-- Nor Lähelein, nor Kingrisein a better joust e'er had run! Nor King Gramoflanz nor Count Laskoit (the son he of Gurnemanz). Onward he rode, yet wandering, nor further befell mischance, Nor strife, from the knights of Monsalväsch, yet one grief must vex his soul, 235 He found not the Grail--Ever further he rode, further fled the goal! Now he who my song will hearken, he shall hear that which yet befell, Tho' the tale of the weeks I know not, that had flown since Sir Parzival Had met with the maid, and had ridden on venture as aye before-- One morning the ground was snow-clad, and tho' thin was the cloak it bore 230 Yet so thick it was that men, seeing, had deemed it the time of frost; As he rode thro' the depths of a woodland by a knight was his pathway crossed, And old was the knight, and grey bearded, yet his face it was bright and fair, And his lady who walked beside him like mien to her lord did bear. And each on their naked body wore a garment of horse-hair grey, 235 For penance and pilgrimage minded they wended afoot their way. And their children, two gentle maidens, such as men's eyes are fain to see, In like garments they followed barefoot, e'en as pilgrims are wont to be.