And now from their sleep they wakened, both Lohengrin and Kardeiss, Naked they lay on their pillows, and fair in their father's eyes, And, joyful, Parzival kissed them whom he never had seen before-- Then at Kiot's courteous bidding the babes from the tent they bore, And Kiot, he bade the maidens to get them from out the tent, 245 And they greeted their lord, long absent, ere yet on their way they went. Then he bade the queen care for her husband, and the maidens from thence he led, And the curtains they drew together, for as yet was the night scarce sped. Now if blood and snow had robbed him of his senses and wit of yore, (In this self-same spot its message the snow to his true heart bore,) 250 For such sorrow she well repaid him, Kondwiramur, his wife-- Nor elsewhere had he sought love's solace in payment for love's fierce strife, Tho' many their love had proffered--I ween that in bliss he lay, And converse sweet, till morning drew nigh to the middle day. And the army, they rode together, on the Templars had they gazed, 255 And their shields in jousts were piercèd, and with many a sword-blow grazed; And each knight he wore a surcoat of silk or of velvet rare, And their feet were shod with iron, nor harness beside they bare. Nor longer they cared to slumber--Then the queen alike and king Arose, and e'en as they bade him, a priest the Mass would sing; 260 And closely they thronged together, that army, brave and good, Who in their queen's day of peril her shield 'gainst Klamidé stood. Then, the benediction given, his men greeted Parzival, Many gallant knights and worthy, their true words from true lips must fall.