rang the words within my very soul.
Yet I, forgetting what my Lord had said,
Have wandered off in boyish foolishness....
O Lord, behold my sorrow at Thy feet!
Have mercy on me, blest Redeemer mine,
And show me how my sin can be atoned!"

Then came the maiden near in trembling way,
As if her wonder was to pity turned,
And spake: "My noble knight, fling off this spell!
Look up, and this heart's love shall comfort thee!"
But Parsifal with fixed look answered her:
"Ah, woman, now I know thee who thou art.
Thy voice it was that pleaded with Amfortas;
Thine eye that smiled away his peace of heart;
Thy lips that tempted him to taste of sin;
This same white throat was bending over him;
This proudly tossing head; these laughing curls;
So these fair arms were winding round his neck;
And every feature soft in flattery;
When thou didst bring him agony untold,
And stole his soul's salvation with thy kiss!
Out and away, destroyer of men's souls!
Take thy pernicious wiles and get thee gone!"

But Kundry--for 't was she--cried out in grief:
"O heart, that feelest for Amfortas' woe,
Hast thou no feeling for my dire distress?
Thou camest here to save the King from sin,
Why not save me and bring me my redemption?
Through endless ages I have waited thee,--
For thou dost seem to me a very savior,
Like Him whom long ago I did revile.
O that thou knewest my story and the curse
Which waking, sleeping, joyous, or in woe,
Brings me forth sorrow and a deep despair.
This is my story. Once I saw the Lord
In those sad days of His sad earthly life,
For in a previous existence I
Was also living in fair Galilee;
These eyes did see Him on the dolorous way
That led His sorrowing feet to Calvary.
And in light scorn, I laughed at Him.... I laughed."

And when she spake these words--"I laughed"--
She stopped in pain and for an awful moment
Her deed spake in the silence, horror-stricken.
And Parsifal deep shuddered at the word,
But she spake on: "I laughed at Him. Whereat
He looked at me. Ah! ne'er shall I forget!...
And now forever am I seeking Him,
From age to age and e'en from world to world,
To stand once more before Him in contrition.
Sometimes His eye doth seem to glance on me,
And then accursed laughter seizes me,
And I am ready for the deeds of Hell.
I laugh and laugh, but never can I weep.
I wander storming, raving, but no tears.
The night of madness holds me, but no tears.
O could I weep, I know I would be saved.
Be pitiful,