Harre sein
Den ich erkor."

[Wait for my chosen one,
Guileless and innocent,
Pity-enlightened.]

They hand him the phial of balsam; and presently, while the lovely
forest music again breaks forth, the king is carried on to his bath, and
Kundry, Gurnemanz, and the two esquires hold the stage.

As the old knight, who is a complete repertory of facts connected with
the Grail tradition, unfolds to the esquires the nature of the king's
wound, the sorceries of Klingsor, the hope of deliverance from some
unknown "guileless one," a sudden cry breaks up the situation.

A white swan, pierced by an arrow, flutters dying to the ground. It is
the swan beloved of the Grail brotherhood, bird of fair omen, symbol of
spotless purity. The slayer is brought in between two knights--a
stalwart youth, fearless, unabashed, while the death-music of the swan,
the slow distilling and stiffening of its life-blood, is marvelously
rendered by the orchestra. Conviction of his fault comes over the youth
as he listens to the reproaches of Gurnemanz. He hangs his head ashamed
and penitent, and at last, with a sudden passion of remorse, snaps his
bow and flings it aside. The swan is borne off, and Parsifal, the
"guileless one" (for he it is), with Gurnemanz and Kundry--who rouses
herself and surveys Parsifal with strange, almost savage curiosity--hold
the stage.

In this scene Kundry tells the youth more than he cares to hear about
himself: how his father, Gamuret, was a great knight killed in battle;
how his mother, Herzeleide (Heart's Affliction), fearing a like fate
for her son, brought him up in the lonely forest; how he left her to
follow a troop of knights that he met one day winding through the forest
glade, and being led on and on in pursuit of them, never overtook them
and never returned to his mother, Heart's Affliction, who died of grief.
At this point the frantic youth seizes Kundry by the throat in an agony
of rage and grief, but is held back by Gurnemanz, till, worn out by the
violence of his emotion, he faints away, and is gradually revived by
Kundry and Gurnemanz.

Suddenly, Kundry rises with a wild look, like one under a spell. Her
mood of service is over. She staggers across the stage--she can hardly
keep awake. "Sleep," she mutters, "I must sleep--sleep!" and falls down
in one of those long trances which apparently last for months, or years,
and form the transition periods between her mood of Grail service an