And they found, in the dusk of the evening, on her knees Siguné dead, 295 And the queen wept for bitter sorrow--Then they brake thro' unto the maid; Parzival, for the sake of his cousin, bade them raise of the tomb the stone, There, embalmed lay Schionatulander, nor long should he lie alone, For beside him they laid the maiden, who in life to him true love gave In such wise as beseemed a maiden, and they closed o'er the twain the grave. 300 And she wept for her uncle's daughter, the queen, with a faithful heart; Schoysiané, the dead maid's mother, had shown her a mother's part, And had cared for her in her childhood, and therefore she sorrow knew: And Parzival's aunt, too, was she, if the tale Kiot read be true. Kiot knew not the death of his daughter, he was guardian to King Kardeiss-- 305 (Nor my tale like the bow shall be bended, but straight as an arrow flies,) They delayed not upon their journey, to Monsalväsch they came by night, And the hours Feirefis must wait them sped swift in their joyful flight. And they lighted many a taper, 'twas as flamed all the woodland wide, And a Templar of Patrigalt, armèd, by the queen's bridle rein did ride; 310 And broad and wide was the courtyard, and many a host stood there, And they welcomed the queen, and a greeting to their lord and his son they bare; And they bore Lohengrin to his uncle, Feirefis, who was black and white, And the babe turned aside nor would kiss him--as children oft do from fright! But gaily he laughed, the heathen--Then they gat them from out the court, 315 When first the queen had dismounted, who joy with her coming brought-- And they led the guests so noble, where, with many a lady fair, Both Feirefis and Anfortas awaited them on the stair. Répanse de Schoie, and from Greenland, Garschiloie, the fair of face, Florie of Lünel, the bright-eyed, rich were they in maiden grace. 320 There she stood, than a reed more graceful, to whom beauty nor truth should fail, The daughter of Reil's lord, Jernis, as Anflisé the maid they hail; And of Tenabroc, maid Clarischanz, sweet was she, and bright to see, And so slender her shape, I think me, an ant's scarce might slighter be.