To the queen spake the gallant hero, 'Ah! hearken, my Lady dear, If my questions they shall not vex thee, do thou to my words give ear 450 And tell me the wondrous story, which as yet shall be hid from me-- That I live, and my life is joyful, I owe it to none but thee; Tho' my heart had the wit of manhood, yet the Duchess she held it fast, But thou in such wise hast helped me that my sorrow is overpast; Of my love, and my wounds had I died here, but with wisdom thy helpful hand 455 Thou didst stretch to my aid, and hast loosed me for aye from my sorrow's band. I owe thee my life! My Lady of healing, now tell to me The wonder that was, and the marvel that yet in this place shall be. Say, wherefore by mighty magic hath Klingsor this palace made? For surely my life had I lost here had thy wisdom not been mine aid!' 460 Then out quoth the wise Arnivé, (and ne'er with such goodly fame Of womanly faith and wisdom fair youth unto old age came,) 'Sir Knight, these are but small marvels to the marvels his cunning hand, And his skill in hidden magic, have wrought in full many a land. He who counteth it shame unto us that into his power we fell, 465 He sinneth for sure! His doings, Sir Knight, I to thee will tell. Many folk, I ween, hath he troubled, his land is Terre de Labûr: From a wondrous race he springeth, whose marvels they aye endure, For Virgil was his forefather, in Naples his spells he wrought: And in this wise his nephew Klingsor was to shame and to sorrow brought;' 470 'And the chief of his towns was Capua--such high fame was his, I ween, That never in praise or in honour methinks had he shamèd been, And all folk they spake of Duke Klingsor, and praised him, both man and maid, Till in this wise he won dishonour, and his glory to earth was laid. In Sicily reigned a monarch, King Ibert, his life was blest 475 With a fair wife, Iblis, none fairer e'er hung on a mother's breast, And Klingsor would do her service, till her love should be his reward, And in shame did he win his guerdon from the hand of her rightful lord.' 'If here I must tell his secret, forgiveness I first must pray, For methinks it shall be a story that scarce fitteth my lips to say; 480 With a stroke was he made magician, with the self-same stroke unmanned'-- Then loudly he laughed, Sir Gawain, as the tale he must understand.