Brighter than the sun this lake,
Boiling as a cauldron deep,
And though nothing alive could stand
This fiery furnace, molten hot,
Perceval glimpsed creatures there,
Most dark and dreadful to behold.
Writhing beneath the seething surface,
Flames of crimson; amber; gold,
Were things of wing and fang and talon,
As though from the abyss had crawled.
But on the shore there stood a knight,
Adorned in mantle, vestal white,
A red cross on his chest emblazoned,
A holy light around him shining.
To Perceval this knight did turn,
He raised his arm towards the lake,
And in a stern, commanding tone
Bade Perceval cast the treasures in.
Perceval stood still as stone,
He heart went cold, his fingers froze,
He felt he couldn't bear to throw
The precious treasures from his hands.
Then the knight did speak once more
His voice an arrow driving deep;
"We are brothers, Perceval,
Your Brethren would not lead you wrong.
All that is lost will be restored.
all that is dead will live again."
And Perceval, his faith returned,
Did lean and cast the treasures in.
The Cross of bright, unalloyed gold
Yellow as the morning sun;
The candlestick of seven prongs
Of beaten silver, shimmering;
Last the crescent of hammered lead
Its rough-hewn surface shadow dark.
All at once there rose a song
From many voices joined as one.
Borne on a breeze, sweet and pure,
They filled the sky like breaking dawn.
Now the lake was fire no more
But tranquil blue water of clear,
And from it came a man of gold
With silver eyes and lead black hair.
Perceval fell upon his knees
And wept and wept for utter joy.
He raised his head thrice aloud,
"Hail to thee O Lord!" he cried.
