Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Mask and Mirror, artist - Loreena McKennitt.
Date of issue: 06.03.2009
Song language: English
The Mask and Mirror |
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 longing |
All for the love of you |
A painting hangs on an ivy wall |
Nestled in the emerald moss |
The eyes declare a truce of trust |
Then it draws me far away |
Where deep in the desert twilight |
Sand melts in pools of the sky |
Darkness lays her crimson cloak |
Your lamps will call me home |
And so it’s there my homage’s due |
Clutched by the still of the night |
Now I feel you move |
And 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 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 longing |
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 o |
Oh 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 o |
Sometimes 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 o |
The 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 o |
Oh 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 o |
He 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 o |
He 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 o |
And 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 rest |
Shrouded by the night |
and by the secret stair I quickly fled |
The veil concealed my eyes |
while all within lay quiet as the dead |
Oh night thou was my guide |
oh night more loving than the rising sun |
Oh night that joined the lover |
to the beloved one |
transforming each of them into the other |
Upon 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 |
And by the fortress walls |
the wind would brush 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 lovers breast |
And care and grief grew dim |
as in the mornings 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 |
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 wuestion, pulling, pulling, pulling you |
in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace 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? |
in your heart, in your soul, did you find peace there? |
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart, |
The holy tree is growing there; |
From joy the holy branches start, |
And al 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 barenness |
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 stiff 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. |
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 confined by you, |
Or sent to Napels. |
Let me not, |
Since I have my dukedom got |
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell |
In this bar island by your spell; |
But 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 prayer, |
Which 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. |