Heather Dale
Heather Dale - Tristan And Isolt songtekst
Over deze songtekst:
Tristan en Isolde is een Middeleeuws verhaal (7de - 8ste eeuw) en gaat over een koning en zijn kampioen Voor zijn volk is hij de behoeder van structuur en orde door hun vijanden te verslaan en veiligheid en zekerheid te brengen. Hij wordt daarbij terzijde gestaan door zijn kampioen, zijn vazal, zijn bijzonderste krijgsman. Er wordt van hem ook verwacht dat hij voor stabiliteit in de toekomst, dus voor opvolging zorgt waarbij de vrouw in het verhaal komt. De band tussen de heerser en de kampioen is trouw en eer, de band met de vrouw is seks. In de relatie tussen koning en krijgsman introduceert de vrouw mysterieuze krachten die niet gecontroleerd worden door de wetten van politiek en oorlogsvoering. Door haar krachten vernietigt zij de band tussen de krijgers en brengt verderf. (Wikipedia). Het verhaal is waarschijnlijk van Keltische oorsprong.
In 2006 is het verhaal verfilmd.
Who knows not the tragedy of Tristan and Isolt? The fair-haired Cornish harper whose hands held steel and string? And Ireland's greatest treasure, borne like Helen 'cross the water While the waves approaching bowed before her beauty? All who've heard the telling know the blind and bitter Fates Placed the cup of love's sweet poison to unconsenting lips And as plank fell home to timber and the king beheld his lady Carols rang within the church and seagulls screamed All the harpers laboured on their agonies of passion Unfulfilled and ever straining like lodestones to the north But few will ever mention how the cold breath of the Northlands Let them lie at last as one without deceit When Tristan could no longer bear the shame of guilty conscience He took ship to far Bretagne, half-hearted and bereft He cast aside his music, cut the strings which brought him joy And took solace in the fury of the field Praise grew up around him like the corn around a boulder As the Cornishman did battle with demons in and out In singing sword and thunder, Tristan vainly sought distraction Yet she whispered in the silence of the slain In the way of warriors rewarding noble heroes Fairest Blanchmaine of the Bretons was given for his wife But Blanchmaine knew no pleasure from her cold and grieving husband For the marble face of memory was his bride In that time the country was beset with Eden's serpents And the basest of all creatures can bring the highest low Two poisons coursed within him, and none could be his saviour But the healing arts of Ireland and Isolt Wings of hope departed, struggling North against the tempest With tender words entreating for mercy and for grace If his love no longer moved her, hoist the black into the rigging But if white brought them together, he would wait Daylight creeping downward, Tristan's demons massed against him And the words of his delusions brought hidden love to light While the woman he had married but to whom he'd given nothing Sat her long and jealous vigil by his side Morning framed the answer walking lightly o'er the water Like Christ's own victory banner, it flew toward the shore It was white as angels' raiments, but when feebly he begged her Fairest Blanchemaine softly told him, "'Tis of night" Who can say which venom took the soul from Tristan's body And the bells began their tolling as Isolt ran up the strand The wind grew slow and silent as she wept upon her lover And in gentleness it took her grief away Side by side they laid them with the earth their separation Even yet, they were divided by the morals of the world But their spirits spiralled upwards, Ireland's briar and Cornwall's rose And together at the last, they lay entwined