Bob Johnson - Pete Knight все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

So it was that Alveric, after travelling towards the Elfin mountains, pushed through a hedge into a field untended, and there suddenly close before him was the frontier of twilight. It stretched across the field in front of him, blue and dense like water. He looked back once, over the fields we know, but nothing seemed to answer or heed his farewells, and so he strode on boldly into those long masses of twilight.

Bright as the sun, blue as the night,
Nothing stirring.
My eyes are blinded by the light,
Still I travel on.
I was never born to kill, but if I must, I will
I dare not fail,

In the hall that was built of moon light, dreams, music and mirage, Lirazel knelt before her father's throne and besought a rune that should restore to her Alveric, bringing him over the border and into the Elfin lands. And with him she prayed might come some garden of Earth, or bank where violets lay, or hollow where cowslips swayed, to shine in Elfland forever.

“I have no rune,” he said, “that has power to lure anything from the mundane fields. No rune but one, and that the last of the potencies of our realm.”

And so it was that those in Erl saw coming towards them a shimmering line of silver sweeping over the fields. Slowly it came, like the blended twilights of old lost summer evenings. It flowed past the houses, and broke over them with a burst of unearthly foam. Elfland had poured over Erl.

Beyond the fields we know
There's a fine and shining line

Into the Castle of Erl jumped the troll, and bowing low before Lirazel he presented the Elf King's rune. No sooner had she read the rune than fancies from Elfland began to pour over the border. Little queer sounds of Elfin creatures came to her, scents swam from those miraculous flowers that glowed by the lawns she knew, all Elfland was calling. She rose at once, and now Earth had lost on her the grip that it only has on material things.

There passed ten years over the fields we know while Alveric searched for Lirazel, and all the while the King of Elfland watched, for he knew by magic when Alveric's sword drew near. It had troubled his kingdom once and he knew well the flavour of thunderbolt iron when he felt it loom on the air. From this he had withdrawn his frontiers far, leaving a space that to cross would weary the comer. But when Alveric was far to the north, the Elf King loosened his grip, and Elfland came racing back as the tide over flat sands ...

Masters of poetry know how to say it,
And maybe a wise man knows what it means.
Judas they say is the man to betray it.
Love is the word but the meaning is feeling the love,

So the old Lord summoned his son, Alveric, and said to him, “Go from here eastwards and pass the fields we know, till you see the lands that clearly pertain to Faery; and cross their boundary, which is made of twilight, and come to that palace that is only told of in song.”

“It is far from here,” said the young man Alveric.

“Yes,” answered he, “it is far.”

“What do you bid me do,” said the son, “when I come to that palace?”

Over hedges and ditches and bushes and stiles
Miles and miles
I'm running, I'm running,
A message I bring to shout or sing
Jump and spin
I'm humming, I'm humming,
Like a top, I never stop
Whirling, twirling round

In their ruddy jackets of leather that reached to their knees, the men of Erl appeared before their Lord. He leaned in his carven chair and heard their spokesman. “For seven hundred years the chiefs of your race have ruled us well. And yet the generations stream away and there is no new thing.”

“What would you?” said the Lord. “We would be ruled by a magic Lord”, they said.

Grant us what we need it is our right of you,
Alveric, your son, must go in spite of you.
Beckon him in wondrous ways
To venture into timeless days,

On the high balcony of his gleaming tower, the King of Elfland stood. He knew well the harshness of material things and all the turmoil of time, and he knew that there hung over his daughter now the doom of all mortal things. And then he wept and all Elfland shivered ...

Silence be on all Elfland.
Troubled am I your King.
Lirazel is far from Elfland,
Perishing like an earthly thing.
Even as I stand before you,
Time surrounds her spirit,

It was while Alveric searched for Lirazel that all manner of things slipped through the border, and in Erl that had sighed for magic, there was indeed magic now, and a fear settled on Erl.

There's imps up in the lumber loft,
The trolls are in the stables
Goblins hiding under the bed
While we hide under the tables.
Faces at the windows,
Horrible flickering lights

Near the Castle of Erl there lived a lonely witch, on high land near the thunder, which used to roll in summer along the hills. There she dwelt by herself in a narrow cottage of thatch, and roamed the high fields alone to gather the thunderbolts; thunderbolts that hat no earthly forging, that made such weapons as had to parry unearthly danger.

All alone the lonely heath
The little children cry
Witch, Witch,
High on a broomstick,
Riding through the sky.