Loreena Mckennitt - The Mask And Mirror (1994) by Loreena Mckennitt (보컬) on maniadb.com

A clouded dream on an earthly night
Hangs upon the crescent moon
A voiceless song in an ageless light
Sings at the coming dawn
Birds in flight are calling there
Where the heart moves the stones
It's there that my heart is calling
All for the love of youA painting hangs on an ivy
Nestled in the emerald moss
The eyes declare a truce of trust
And then it draws me far away
Where deep in the desert twilight
Sand melts in pools of the sky
When darkness lays her crimson cloak
Your lamps will call me homeAnd so it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
And now I feel you move
Every breath is full
So it's there my homage's due
Clutched by the still of the night
Even the distance feels so near
All for the love of you

A farmer there lived in the north country
a hey ho bonny o
And he had daughters one, two, three
The swans swim so bonny o
These daughters they walked by the river's brim
a hey ho bonny o
The eldest pushed the youngest in
The swans swim so bonny oOh sister, oh sister, pray lend me your hand
with a hey ho a bonny o
And I will give you house and land
the swans swim so bonny o
I'll give you neither hand nor glove
with a hey ho a bonny o
Unless you give me your own true love
the swans swim so bonny oSometimes she sank, sometimes she swam
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Until she came to a miller's dam
the swans swim so bonny oThe miller's daughter, dressed in red
with a hey ho and a bonny o
She went for some water to make some bread
the swans swim so bonny oOh father, oh daddy, here swims a swan
with a hey ho and a bonny o
It's very like a gentle woman
the swans swim so bonny o
They placed her on the bank to dry
with a hey ho and a bonny o
There came a harper passing by
the swans swim so bonny oHe made harp pins of her fingers fair
with a hey ho and a bonny o
He made harp strings of her golden hair
the swans swim so bonny o
He made a harp of her breast bone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play alone
the swans swim so bonny oHe brought it to her father's hall
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And there was the court, assembled all
the swans swim so bonny o
He laid the harp upon a stone
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And straight it began to play lone
the swans swim so bonny oAnd there does sit my father the King
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And yonder sits my mother the Queen
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my brother Hugh
with a hey ho and a bonny o
And by him William, sweet and true
the swans swim so bonny o
And there does sit my false sister, Anne
with a hey ho and a bonny o
Who drowned me for the sake of a man
the swans swim so bonny o

Upon a darkened night
the flame of love was burning in my breast
And by a lantern bright
I fled my house while all in quiet restShrouded by the night
And by the secret stair I quickly fled
The veil concealed my eyes
while all within lay quiet as the deadOh night thou was my guide
of night more loving than the rising sun
Oh night that joined the lover
to the beloved one
transforming each of them into the otherUpon that misty night
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight
Without a guide or light
than that which burned so deeply in my heart
That fire t'was led me on
and shone more bright than of the midday sun
To where he waited still
it was a place where no one else could come
Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
beneath the cedars all my love I gave
From o'er the fortress walls
the wind would his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
caressed my every sense it would allow
I lost myself to him
and laid my face upon my lover's breast
And care and grief grew dim
as in the morning's mist became the light
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair
there they dimmed amongst the lilies fair

Marrakesh night market
They're gathered in circles
the lamps light their faces
The crescent moon rocks in the sky
The poets of drumming
keep heartbeats suspended
The smoke swirls up and then dies

Would you like my mask?
would you like my mirror?
cries the man in the shadowing hood
You can look at yourself
you can look at each other
or you can look at the face, the face of your god

The stories are woven
and fortunes are told
The truth is measured by the weight of your gold
The magic lies scattered
on rugs on the ground
Faith is conjured in the night market's sound

Would you like my mask?
would you like my mirror?
cries the man in the shadowing hood
You can look at yourself
you can look at each other
or you can look at the face, the face of your god

The lessons are written
on parchments of paper
They're carried by horse from the river Nile
says the shadowy voice
In the firelight, the cobra
is casting the flame a winsome smile

Would you like my mask?
would you like my mirror?
cries the man in the shadowing hood
You can look at yourself
you can look at each other
or you can look at the face, the face of your god

Stars were falling deep in the darkness
as prayers rose softly, petals at dawn
And as I listened, your voice seemed so clear
so calmly you were calling your god

Somewhere the sun rose, o'er dunes in the desert
such was the stillness, I ne'er felt before
Was this the question, pulling, pulling, pulling you
in your heart, in your soul, did you find rest there?

Elsewhere a snowfall, the first in the winter
covered the ground as the bells filled the air
You in your robes sang, calling, calling, calling him
in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there

January, 1992 - Just performed in Santiago de Compostella in the Galician area
of Spain...misty and lush as we arrived from more arid areas of the country;
clearly Celtic territory in the language and music, and a place I must visit
again soon...We arrived a day early; band et al went for a wonderful Sunday
lunch and then wandered over to the cathedral to observe the wonderful faces on
the Portico.
May, 1992 - Santiago de Compostella (St. James in the Field of Stars)...had
occasion to return to Galicia and Santiago sooner than I'd thought...I learned
the story behind the city. Supposedly the remains of St. James arrived
mysteriously in the village of Padron (which we visited...lovely line of trees
along the waterway leading to the place where the relics were found) and
interred here in Santiago...I picked up a CD collection of music emanating from
the pilgrimage route to Santiago, as well as a CD by Spanish group Els
Trobadors...wonderful feeling to this music.
May, 1993 - Now studying liner notes, books and pieces of music, putting
together a clearer picture of Santiago in the years 900 to 1500 when it
rivalled Jerusalem and Rome as a pilgrimage destination, playing host to a
motley tide of humanity pursuing both religious and more earthy goals. It was
also the site of unprecedented cross-cultural fertilization between the
Christian, Jewish and Moorish communities. When I heard this piece, I was
struck by its Semitic tone, and realised that, even in the area of music, the
three communities were influencing each other.
Janvier 1992 - Je viens de donner un spectacle a Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle,
en Galice, dans le nord de l'Espagne...brumeux et luxuriant en comparaison des
contrees plus arides du reste du pays; un territoire nettement celtique par sa
langue et sa musique, un endroit que je dois revenir visiter bientot...Nous
sommes arrives une journee a l'avance; toute l'equipe s'est retrouvee pur un
magnifique dejeuner du dimanche, pous s'est promenee jusqu'a la cathedrale pour
admirer le splendic portique.
Mai 1992 - Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle (Saint-Jacques das le Champ des
etoiles)...j'ai eu l'occasion de revenir en Galice et a Siant-Jacques plus vite
que je ne l'esperais...J'ai appris l'histoire de la fondation de cette ville.
Selon la legende, le corps de Saint-Jacques serait arrive mysterieusement dans
la ville de Padron (que nous avons visitee... une belle rangee d'arbres le long
du cours d'eau menant jusqu'a la place ou les reliques furent decouvertes) et
aurait ete enterre ici a Saint-Jacques...J'ai achete une collection de disques
compacts de musique de la route du pelerinage vers Compostelle, et un disque du
groupe espagnol Els Troubadors.
Mai 1993 - J'etudie maintenant des notes, des livres et des oeuvres musicales,
pour me forger une image plus claire de Saint-Jacques-de-Compostelle dans les
annees 900 a 1500, quand la cite rivalisait avec Jerusalem et Rome comme lieu
de pelerinage; elle etait l'hote de vagues humaines bigarrees, motivees par des
aspirations religieuses mais egalement plus terre a terre. Elle etait aussi le
centre d'echanges d'une fecondite sans precedent entre les communautes
chretiennes, juives et musulmanes. Quand j'ai entendu cette oeuvre, j'ai ete
frappee par sa tonalite semitique et j'ai realise que, meme dans le domaine
musical, les trois civilisations s'influencaient les unes les autres.
Januar 1992 - Bin gerade in Santiago de Compostella, im galizischen Teil
Spaniens, aufgetreten...dunstig und ueppig im Vergleich zu den mehr duerren
Gegenden Spaniens, aus denen wir gerade kamen; ganz eindeutig sprachlich und
musikalisch keltisch beeinflusstes Gebiet, eine Gegend, die ich bald wieder
besuchen moechte...Wir kamen einen Tag zu frueh an, die Band und ich gingen


essen und nach einem wunderbaren Sonntags-Mittagessen sind wir zur Kathedrale
hinueber gebummelt, um uns das wundervolle Gesicht auf dem Portikus anzusehen.
Mai 1992 - Santiago de Compostella (der heilige Jakob im Feld der
Sterne)...Hatte schneller die Gelegenheit, nach Galizien und Santiago
zurueckzukehren, als ich dachte...Ich erfuhr die Geschichte, die der Stadt
anhaengt. Anscheinend gelangten die Ueberreste des heiligen Jakob auf
mysterioese Weise in die Stadt Padron (welche wir auch besuchten...eine
huebsche Baumreihe zieht sich entlang des Wasserweges, der zu dem Fundort
fuehrt) und wurden dann hier in Santiago begraben. Ich fand eine CD-Sammlung
mit Musik, die von der Pilgerfahrt nach Santiago stammt und noch eine CD der
spanischen Gruppe Els Trobadors.
Mai 1993 - Beschaftige mich jetzt mit Notizen, Buechern und Musikstuecken, um
mir ein klares Bild von Santiago aus der Zeit 900 - 1500 machen zu koennen, das
zu der Zeit mit Jerusalem und Rom als Pilgerziel rivalisierte, und zu der Zeit
eine kunterbunte Welle der Menschlichkeit beherbergte, die sich religioese wie
auch irdische Ziele gesetzt hatte. Es war ausserdem der Schauplatz einer bisher
nie dagewesenen interkulturellen Befruchtung zwischen den Christen, Juden und
der maurischen Bevoelkerung. Als ich dieses Stueck hoerte, erstaunte mich der
semitische Klang, und mir wurde klar, dass sich diese drei Gruppen auch in der
Musik gegenseitig beeinflussten.
Enero de 1992 - acabo de actuar en Santiago de Compostela, Galicia...region
mistica y excuberante sobre todo llegando de zonas mas aridas del pais;
claramente es territorio celta por su lenguaje y su musica. y un sitio al que
tengo que volver pronto...Llegamos temprano; el grupo y yo nos fuimos a tomar
una esplendida comida de domingo y luego vagamos por la catedral para ver el
maravilloso Portico de la Gloria.
Mayo de 1992 - Santiago de Compostela...tuve la oportunidad de volver a Galicia
y a Santiago antes de lo que esperaba...Aprendi la historia de la ciudad.
Supuestamente los restos de Santiago llegaron misterisamente a la ciudad de
Padron y fueron enterrados en la ciudad de Santiago...Cogi una recopilacion en
CD de musica del camino de Santiago y un CD de un grupo espanol llamado Els
Trobadors.
Mayo de 1993 - estoy estudiando notas, libros y piezas musicales, intentado
reunir una imagen mas clara de Santiago desde el ano 900 hasta el 1500, cuando
rivalizaba con las peregrinaziones a Jerusalem y a Roma, ofreciendo a sus
huespedes vertientes humanas mas varidas, persiguiendo al mismo tiempo metas
religiosas y terrenales. Fue tambien un fertilismo emplazamiento de cruce de
culturas sin ningun precedente: las comunidades cristinas, judias y musulmanas.
Cuando escuche esta pieza, quede atrapada por su tono semitico, y fui
consciente de que, incluso en el campo de la musica, las tres comunidades se
habian influido entre ellas.
Traditional music arranged and adapted by L.M.
L.M. - vocals, accordion, synthesizer
Brian Hughes - balalaika, guitars
Rick Lazar - drums, percussion
George Koller - cello, bass
Hugh Marsh - fiddle
Nigel Eaton - hurdy-gurdy
Donal Lunny - bouzouki

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody.
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee,
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.


Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to bareness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings: alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the winged sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care;
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

And now my charms are all o'erthrown
And what strength I have's mine own
Which is most faint; now t'is true
I must here be released by youBut release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayerWhich pierces so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults
As you from your crimes would pardon'd be
Let your indulgence set me free