Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland скачать в хорошем качестве

Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland

Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland (1562-1626). Played by Phil McKelliget on a Masuru Kohno guitar. I like this piece so much that I wrote a poem about it... Lachrimae Pavan His lute strapped to the back of a donkey, John Dowland, master of the cult of melancholy, Is smiling as he bridges the Alps. He dreams Of playing to a lady of the court of Florence. She inhabits sound, strain and flourish, chords Pressing like sunlight on pewter. Her silent face, So excellent in woe, advanced by the art Plucked from the gut by his alchemic fingers. But discovers in Florence those fingers trembling. He is Dowland the Catholic now, astonished At his artlessness, for tonight he will dine With John Scudamore, priest and plotter in exile. An image jostles him as he plays – London And the etched horror of the quartered papists. 'God he knoweth I never loved treason Nor never heard any mass in England'. Four hundred years between your penned fear And this obscure occasion: Lachrimae Pavan Nascent beneath my fingers. Your famous phrase, The most sublime expression of pain, is falling. Particle and wave, her grief-transfigured face Spinning in the riddle of an atom in a bullet Lodged in the brain of a bleeding victim somewhere. And a fleck of gold is pressed into being.