The distinctive feature of the Perceval version is the insistence upon the sickness, and disability of the ruler of the land, the Fisher King. Regarded first as the direct cause of the wasting of the land, it gradually assumes overwhelming importance, the task of the Quester becomes that of healing the King ... (13-14)

(a) There is a general consensus of evidence to the effect that the main object of the Quest is the restoration to health and vigour of a King suffering from infirmity caused by wounds, sickness, or old age;
(b) and whose infirmity, for some mysterious and unexplained reason, reacts disastrously upon his kingdom, either depriving it of vegetation, or exposing it to the ravages of war.
(c) In two cases it is definitely stated that the King will be restored to youthful vigour and beauty.
(d) In both cases where we find Gawain as the hero of the story, and in one connected with Perceval, the misfortune which has fallen upon the country is that of a prolonged drought, which has destroyed vegetation, and left the land Waste; the effect of the hero's question is to restore the waters to their channel, and render the land once more fertile.
(e) In three cases the misfortunes and wasting of the land are the result of war, and directly caused by the hero's failure to ask the question ... (20-21)

Whan that Aueryll with his Shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote
And bathed euery veyne in swich lycour
Of which vertu engendred is the flour
Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth
Inspired hath in euery holt and heeth
The tendre croppes and the yonge sonne
Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne
And smale foweles maken melodye
That slepen al the nyght with open Iye
So priketh hem nature in hir corages
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrymages
And Palmeres for to seeken straunge strondes
To ferne halwes kouthe in sondry londes
And specially from euery shyres ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende
The holy blisful martir for to seke
That hem hath holpen whan that they weere seeke

[Modern English translation]

When April with his sweet showers
has pierced the drought of March to the root
and bathed every vein with such a fluid
of whose power is engendered the flower,
when also the West Wind with his sweet breath
has quickened in every wood and plain
the tender shoots, and the young sun
has run in the Ram his halfway course,
and small birds make music
who sleep all night with an open eye --
so nature spurs the life-force in them --
then people yearn to go on pilgrimages,
and palmers to seek out foreign ways
to far-off shrines known in various lands,
and especially from every shire's end
of England they travel to Canterbury
to seek out the holy, blessed martyr
who has helped them when they were sick.

Our Mother feedeth thus our little life,
That we may in turn feed her with our death

The hand of the Lord was upon me, and carried me out in the spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley which was full of bones,
And caused me to pass by them round about: and, behold, there were very many in the open valley; and, lo, they were very dry.
And he said unto me, Son of man, can these bones live? And I answered, O Lord God, thou knowest.
Again he said unto me, Prophesy upon these bones, and say unto them, O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.
Thus saith the Lord God unto these bones; Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you, and ye shall live. (37:1-5)

Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them .... In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened .... Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail: because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets ..... Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; all is vanity.

Then, while the earth shall be cast upon the body by some standing by, the Priest shall say, `Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed: we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our incorruptible body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly sing his knell.

"Fourmillante cité, cité pleine de rûves,
"Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant!" [Eliot's note]

Swarming city, city full of dreams,
Where the spectre in broad daylight buttonholes the passer-by.

"si lunga tratta
di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto
che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta." [Eliot's note]

"Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,
"non avea pianto, ma' che di sospiri,
"che l'aura eterna facevan tremare." [Eliot's note]

Call for the robin redbreast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole
The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And, when gay tombs are robbed, sustain no harm;
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
For with his nails he'll dig them up again.

C'est l'Ennui! ....
Tu le connais, lecteur, ce monstre délicat,
Hypocrite lecteur! mon semblable, mon frère! (p. 9)

[It's boredom! ....
You know him, reader, this dainty monster,
Hypocritical reader! my double, my brother!

The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumèd that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person,
It beggared all description: she did lie
In her pavilion, cloth-of-gold of tissue,
O'erpicturing that Venus where we see
The fancy outwork nature. On each side her
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling Cupids,
With divers-colored fans, whose wind did seem
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool,
And what they undid did.

The roof o' th' chamber
With golden cherubins is fretted. Her andirons --
I had forgot them -- were two winking Cupids
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely
Depending on their brands. (II.4.87-91)

And now, unveiled the toilet stands displayed,
Each silver vase in mystic order laid ....
Unnumbered treasures ope at once, and here
The various treasures of the world appear;
From each she nicely culls with curious toil,
And decks the Goddess with the glittering spoil.
This casket India's glowing gems unlocks,
And all Arabia breathes from yonder box.
(I.121.2, 129-34)

dependent lychni laquearibus aureis
incensi, et noctem flammis funalia vincunt. [Eliot's note]

What bird so sings, yet does so wail?
Oh, 'tis the ravished nightingale.
Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu! she cries,
And still her woes at midnight rise.
Brave prick-song!

Queen. To whom do you speak this?
Hamlet. Do you see nothing there?
Queen. Nothing at all; yet all that is I see.
Hamlet. Nor did you nothing hear?
Queen. No, nothing but ourselves.

Not this, by no means, that I bid you do:
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed,
Pinch wanton on your cheek, call you his mouse (182-84)

All things, O priests, are on fire. And what, O priests, are all these things which are on fire?

The eye, O priests, is on fire; forms are on fire; eye-consciousness is on fire; impressions received by the eye are on fire; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the eye, that also is on fire.

And with what are these on fire?

With the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.

The ear is on fire; sounds are on fire; ... the nose is on fire; odors are on fire; ... the tongue is on fire; tastes are on fire; ... the body is on fire; things tangible are on fire; ... the mind is on fire; ideas are on fire; ... mind-consciousness is on fire; impressions received by the mind are on fire; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the mind, that also is on fire.

And with what are these on fire?

With the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire.

Perceiving this, O priests, the learned and noble disciple conceives an aversion for the eye, conceives an aversion for forms, conceives an aversion for eye-consciousness, conceives an aversion for the impressions received by the eye; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the eye, for that also he conceives an aversion. Conceives an aversion for the ear, conceives an aversion for sounds, ... conceives an aversion for the nose, conceives an aversion for odors, ... conceives an aversion for the tongue, conceives an aversion for tastes, ... conceives an aversion for the body, conceives an aversion for things tangible, ... conceives an aversion for the mind, conceives an aversion for ideas, conceives an aversion for mind-consciousness, conceives an aversion for the impressions received by the mind; and whatever sensation, pleasant, unpleasant, or indifferent, originates in dependence on impressions received by the mind, for this also he conceives an aversion. And in conceiving this aversion, he becomes divested of passion, and by the absence of passion he becomes free, and when he is free he becomes aware that he is free; and he knows that rebirth is exhausted, that he has lived the holy life, that he has done what it behooved him to do, and that he is no more for this world.

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion [Jerusalem],
We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?

But at my back I always hear
Time's winged Chariot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.

Where should this music be? I' th' air or th' earth?
It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon
Some god o' th' island. Sitting on a bank,
Weeping again the king my father's wrack [shipwreck],
This music crept by me upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury and my passion
With its sweet air. (I.2.388-93)

"When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,
"A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring
"Actaeon to Diana in the spring,
"Where all shall see her naked skin ..." [Eliot's note]

Parsifal a vaincu les Filles, leur gentil
Babil et la luxure amusante -- et sa pente
Vers la Chair de garçon vierge que cela tente
D'aimer les seins légers et ce gentil babil;
Il a vaincu la Femme belle, au coeur subtil,
Étalant ses bras frais et sa gorge excitante;
Il a vaincu l'Enfer et rentre sous sa tente
Avec un lourd trophée à son bras puéril,
Avec la lance qui perça le Flanc suprême!
Il a guéri le roi, le voici roi lui-même,
Et prêtre du tres saint Tréntiel.
En robe d'or il adore, gloire et symbole,
Le vase pur où resplendit le Sang reel.
-- Et, ô ces voix d'enfants chantant dans la coupole!

Percival overcame the girls, their pretty
noise and the amusing lechery -- and his penchant
for the virgin boy's flesh that tempts him
to love the wanton breasts and their pretty noise;
he overcame the lovely woman with the subtle heart,
offering her fresh arms and her exciting throat;
he overcame Hell and returns under his tent
with a heavy trophy in his boyish arm,
with the lance that pierced the almighty Side!
He cured the king, the true king himself,
and the priest of the transcendent very holy Treasure.
In a golden robe he worships, glorious and symbolic,
the pure vessel where the royal blood blazes. --
And, O these children's voices singing beneath the cupola!"

... Cum Iunone iocos et `maior vestra
profecto est Quam, quae contingit maribus', dixisse,
`voluptas.' Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti
Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque
nota. Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva
Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu
Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem
Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem
Vidit et `est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'
Dixit `ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet,
Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus
isdem Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.
Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa
Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto
Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique
Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte,
At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita cuiquam
Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto
Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore. [Eliot's note]

... it chanced that Jove (as the story goes), while warmed with wine, put care aside and bandied good-humoured jests with Juno in an idle hour. `I maintain,' said he, `that your pleasure in love is greater than that which we enjoy.' She held the opposite view. And so they decided to ask the judgment of wise Tiresias. He knew both sides of love. For once, with a blow of his staff he had outraged two huge serpents mating in the green forest; and, wonderful to relate, from man he was changed into a woman, and in that form spent seven years. In the eighth year he saw the same serpents again and said: `Since in striking you there is such magic power as to change the nature of the giver of the blow, now will I strike you once again.' So saying, he struck the serpents and his former state was restored and he became as he had been born. He therefore, being asked to arbitrate the playful dispute of the gods, took sides with Jove. Saturnia [Juno], they say, grieved more deeply than she should and than the issue warranted, and condemned the arbitrator to perpetual blindness. But the Almighty Father (for no god may undo what another god has done) in return for the loss of sight gave Tiresias the power to know the future, lightening the penalty by the honour.

Hesperus, you bring home all the bright dawn disperses,
bring home the sheep,
bring home the goat, bring the child home to its mother.

Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is -- to die.

The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sails of the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in red clusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished spirit. A haze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness. The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth.

"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watch-
ing the games on the river. (The queen) was
alone with Lord Robert and myself on the
poop, when they began to talk nonsense, and
went so far that Lord Robert at last said, as
I was on the spot there was no reason why they
should not be married if the queen pleased." [Eliot's note]

"Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia;
"Siena mi fe', disfecemi Maremma." [Eliot's note]

The story is that a certain woman had married into a family of rank, but had quarreled with her husband, and, decked and ornamented, until she looked like a goddess, had issued forth from Anuradhapura, early in the morning, and was returning home to her family. On her way she met the elder, as he was on his way from Mt. Cetiya to go on his begging-rounds in Anuradhapura. And no sooner had she seen him, than the perversity of her nature caused her to laugh loudly. The elder looked up inquiringly, and observing her teeth, realized the impurity of the body, and attained to sainthood ....

Then came her husband, following in her footsteps, and seeing the elder, he said:

"Reverend sir, have you seen a woman pass this way?"

And the elder said:

"Was it a woman, or a man,
That passed this way? I cannot tell.
But this I know, a set of bones
Is travelling on upon this road."

"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest
der halbe Osten Europas auf dem Wege zum
Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligen Wahn am
Abgrund entlang und singt dazu, singt be-
trunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Kara-
masoff sang. Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Bürger beleidigt, der Heilige und Seher hört
sie mit Tränen." [Eliot's note]

The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn,
Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning,
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air,
The extravagant and erring spirit hies
To his confine. (I.2.150-55)

Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long:
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad;
The nights are wholesome ... (I.2.158-62)

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow. (I.2.385-87)

Then the heavy air round him was pierced by a sharp gust of wind, bringing with it the fresh, damp feel of the falling rain; and all the innumerable treetops of the forests swayed to the left and sprang back again in a tumultuous balancing of nodding branches and shuddering leaves. A light frown ran over the river, the clouds stirred slowly, changing their aspect but not their place, as if they had turned ponderously over; and when the sudden movement had died out in a quickened tremor of the slenderest twigs, there was a short period of formidable immobility above and below, during which the voice of the thunder was heard, speaking in a sustained, emphatic and vibrating roll, with violent bursts of crashing sound, like a wrathful and threatening discourse of an angry god.

The threefold offspring of Praja-pati, gods, men and demons, lived with their father Praja-pati as students of sacred knowledge. Having completed their studentship the gods said, "Please tell (instruct) us, sir." To them, then, he uttered the syllable da (and asked) "Have you understood?" They (said), "We have understood, you said to us `damyata,' `control yourselves.'" He said, "Yes, you have understood."

Then the men said to him, "Please tell (instruct) us, sir." To them he uttered the same syllable da (and asked) "Have you understood?" They said, "We have understood. You said to us `give.'" He said, "Yes, you have understood."

Then the demons said to him, "Please tell (instruct) us, sir." To them he uttered the same syllable da and asked, "Have you understood?" They said, "We have understood, you said to us, `dayadhvam,' `be compassionate.'" He said, "Yes, you have understood." This very thing the heavenly voice of thunder repeats da, da, da, that is, control yourselves, give, be compassionate. One should practise this same triad, self-control, giving and compassion.

"... they'll remarry
Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere
the spider
Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs." [Eliot's note]

"My external sensations are no less private to
myself than are my thoughts or my feelings.
In either case my experience falls within my
own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and,
with all its elements alike, every sphere is
opaque to the others which surround it. ...
In brief, regarded as an existence which
appears in a soul, the whole world for each is
peculiar and private to that soul."
[Eliot's note]

London Bridge is broken down,
Broken down, broken down,
London Bridge is broken down,
My fair lady.

Build it up with wood and clay,
Wood and clay, wood and clay,
Build it up with wood and clay,
My fair lady.

Wood and clay will wash away,
Wash away, wash away,
Wood and clay will wash away, My fair lady.

Build it up with bricks and mortar.
Bricks and mortar will not stay.
Build it up with iron and steel.
Iron and steel will bend and bow.
Build it up with silver and gold.
Silver and gold will be stolen away.
Set a man to watch all night.
Suppose the man should fall asleep.
Give him a pipe to smoke all night.

"Ara vos prec, per aquella valor
`que vos guida al som de l'escalina,
`sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'
Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina." [Eliot's note]

quando fiam uti chelidon, ut tacere desinam?
perdidi Musam tacendo, nec me Apollo respicit:

[When shall I be like the swallow and from dumb distress be free?
I have lost the Muse by silence: me Apollo heedeth not.]

Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow,
How can thine heart be full of the spring?
A thousand summers are over and dead.
What hast thou found in the spring to follow?
What hast thou found in thine heart to sing?

O sister, sister, thy first-begotten!
The hands that cling and the feet that follow,
The voice of the child's blood crying yet
Who hath remembered me? who hath forgotten?
Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow,
But the world shall end when I forget.

O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.

O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.

O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.

O were I thou that she might take me in,
And lay me on her bosom, and her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died.

Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?

O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown:
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.

O tell her, brief is life but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.

O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.

Je suis le ténébreux, -- le veuf, -- l'inconsolé,
Le prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie:
Ma seule étoile est morte, -- et mon luth constellé
Porte le soleil noir de la Mélancolie.

Dans la nuit du tombeau, toi qui m'as consolé,
Rends-moi le Pausilippe et la mer d'Italie,
La fleur qui plaisait tant à mon coeur désolé,
Et la treille où le pampre à la rose s'allie.

Suis-je Amour ou Phébus? ... Lusignan ou Biron?
Mon front est rouge encor du baiser de la reine;
J'ai rêvé dans la grotte où nage la sirène ...

Et j'ai deux fois vanqueur traversé l'Achéron:
Modulant tour à tour sur la lyre d'Orphée
Les soupirs de la sainte et les cris de la fée.

Why then I'll fit you, say no more.
When I was young, I gave my mind
And plied myself to fruitless poetry:
Which though it profit the professor naught,
Yet is it passing pleasing to the world. (IV.1.70-74)

Each one of us must act his part
In unknown languages,
That it may breed the more variety,
As you, my lord, in Latin, I in Greek,
You in Italian, and for because I know
That Bel-imperia [Horatio's beloved] hath practised the French,
In courtly French shall all her phrases be. (172-78)