Nor speak of this sad sorrow to the King
To further grieve his deep-afflicted heart
Stricken the King and wounded to his death,
This omen he may dwell on to his hurt."

And back unto the King's bath went the knights,
While Gurnemanz spake further to the lad:
"Speak out thy heart to me. I am thy friend.
Surely thou knowest much that thou canst say."

Then spake the boy and told him of his life:
"I have a mother,--Heartsrue is she called.
And on the barren moorland is our home.
My bow and arrows have I made myself
To scare the eagles in the forest wilds."

Then Gurnemanz: "Yea, thou hast told me true,
For thou thyself art of the eagle brood.
I see a something kingly in thy look.
Yet better had thy mother taught thy hands
To spear and sword than this unmanly bow."

Whereat the wild witch Kundry raised herself
From where she lay along the bosky woods,
And hoarsely broke in: "Yea, his noble sire
Was Gamuret, in battle slain and lost
A month before his child had seen the light.
And so to save her son from such a death,
The lonely mother reared him in the woods,
And taught him nothing of the spear and sword,