Download the CD booklet in PDF format - Loreena McKennitt

M USIC: LOREENA M CKENNITT 5:15
NOVEMBER 3, 1991, VENICE:
This first trip to Venice has been
fascinating, not only because of the
extraordinary exhibition of Celtic artefacts I have just
seen, but because walking through the city itself has heightened
my awareness of just how important Venice was as a crossroads
between cultures. Threads of history reverberate around me, including
the story of Marco Polo, the thirteenth century merchant-adventurer
who claimed to have travelled all the way to China.
MARCH 1997, REAL WORLD STUDIOS: At the beginning and middle of this piece,
I have interwoven an authentic Sufi melody that I first heard performed
by a group called Ensemble Oni Wytars.
3 NOVEMBRE, 1991, VENISE: Mon premier voyage à Venise s’avère captivant,
non seulement à cause de l’extraordinaire exposition d’objets d’art celtes que je viens
tout juste de voir, mais aussi parce qu’en me promenant dans la ville, je réalise que
Venise était jadis un véritable carrefour de cultures. Le fil de l’Histoire se déroule
devant moi, jusqu’à l’histoire de Marco Polo, le marchand-aventurier du treizième
siècle qui affirme avoir voyagé jusqu’en Chine.
MARS 1997, STUDIOS REAL WORLD: J’ai inclus, au début et au milieu de cette pièce,
un air soufi authentique que j’ai entendu pour la première fois joué
par l’Ensemble Oni Wytars.
M USIC: LOREENA M CKENNITT
LYRIC: ALFRED N OYES, ABRIDGED BY L OREENA M CKENNITT 10:19
JULY 1993, STRATFORD: Some friends have offered the suggestion that I set Alfred Noyes’ poem “The
Highwayman” to music. This dramatic, tragic narrative, rich with the imagery of 18th century rural England,
could be fun to work on at Real World, where the surrounding landscape seems to exude that very atmosphere.
JUILLET 1993, STRATFORD: Des amis me suggèrent de composer une chanson à partir du poème d’Alfred
Noyes, “The Highwayman”. Ce serait certes intéressant de travailler sur un tel projet aux studios Real World
situés dans un cadre qui dègage justement l’ambiance des paysages ruraux de l’Angleterre du XVIIIème siècle
qu’évoque si bien le conte à la fois dramatique et tragique de Noyes.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees • The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon
the cloudy seas • The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor • And the highwayman came
riding, • Riding, riding, • The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He’d a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin, • A coat of claret velvet, and
breeches of brown doe-skin; • They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to the thigh! • And he
rode with a jewelled twinkle, • His pistol butts a-twinkle, • His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, • And he tapped with his whip on the
shutters, but all was locked and barred; • He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting
there • But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter, • Bess, the landlord’s daughter, •
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
“One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I’m after a prize tonight, • But I shall be back with the yellow gold before
the morning light; • Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, • Then look for me by the
moonlight, • Watch for me by the moonlight, • I’ll come to thee by the moonlight,
though hell should bar the way.”
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand • But she loosened her hair i’ the casement!
His face burnt like a brand • As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) •
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.