And Gurnemanz held up the tottering lad, Still sorrowing at the sad news come to him, And slowly led him toward the castle gate, While softly speaking to him graciously: "See how our King Amfortas from the bath Is carried by his loving servitors.

And as they sang their sweet antiphonies, A long procession through the splendid hall Wended slow way, and bearing in the King, The suffering Amfortas in his pain, Still lying listless on his royal couch.

Lady Macbeth is as great a part as Juliet for an actress of genius, but there are no 'old parts' for singers; the soprano dare not turn into a contralto with advancing years, nor does the unapproachable Parsifal of eight-and-twenty turn into an incomparable Amfortas at fifty.

Slowly the servitors marched sadly in, Bearing the pale Amfortas on his couch.

Remember now to use thy wiles again As thou didst love Amfortas to his shame.