The Highwayman de Loreena Mckennitt

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 jeweled twinkle
His pistol butts a-twinkle
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky

And o'er 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 up right in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand
But she loosened her hair in 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 waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west

He did not come at the dawning; he did not come at noon
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor
A red-coat troop came marching
Marching, marching
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at the casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window
Hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement the road that he would ride

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say
"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!"
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness and the hours crawled on by like years!
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight
Cold, on the stroke of midnight
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
Tot-a-lot tot-a-lot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear
Tot-a-lot tot-a-lot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
The highwayman came riding
Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still

Tot-a-lot in the frosty silence! Tot-a-lot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment! She drew one last deep breath
Then her finger moved in the moonlight
Her musket shattered the moonlight
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death
He turned; he spurred to the west; he did not know she stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it; his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter
The landlord's black-eyed daughter
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there
And back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky
With a white rope smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were the spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down on the highway
Down like a dog on the highway
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat

Still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon the cloudy seas
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
The highwayman comes riding
Riding, riding
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door

El viento era un torrente de oscuridad entre los árboles tempestuosos.
La luna era un galleón espectral agitado por mares nublados.
El camino era una cinta de luz de luna sobre la morera púrpura.
Y el bandolero llegó montando,
Montando, montando;
El bandolero llegó montando hasta la puerta de la antigua posada.

Llevaba un sombrero francés en la frente y un lazo de encaje bajo el mentón,
Una chaqueta de terciopelo burdeos y pantalones de piel de ciervo marrón;
Le quedaban como un guante, sin una arruga; ¡sus botas llegaban hasta el muslo!
Y cabalgaba con brillo en las joyas,
Las empuñaduras de sus pistolas brillaban,
La empuñadura de su espada también brillaba, bajo el cielo lleno de joyas.

Y por los adoquines resonó y desapareció en el oscuro patio de la posada;
Golpeó con su látigo sobre los postigos, pero todo estaba cerrado y atrancado;
Silbó una melodía a la ventana, y quien estaba allí esperando
Era la hija del posadero con ojos oscuros:
Bess, la hija del posadero,
Trenzando un nudo de amor rojo oscuro en su largo cabello negro.

"Un beso, mi bonita dulce compañera, estoy tras un premio esta noche;
Pero volveré con oro amarillo antes que amanezca;
Sin embargo, si me presionan fuertemente y me acosan durante el día,
Entonces mírame bajo la luz lunares;
Espérame bajo la luz lunar;
Vendré a ti bajo la luz lunar, aunque el infierno impida el paso."
Se levantó derecho en los estribos; apenas podía alcanzar su mano;
¡Pero ella soltó su cabello por el ventanuco! Su cara ardió como una marca;
Mientras una cascada negra de perfume caía sobre su pecho;
Y besó sus olas en la luz lunar
(Oh, dulces olas en la luz lunar!)
Luego tiró de las riendas en la luz lunar y galopó hacia el oeste.

No llegó al amanecer ni al mediodía.
Y fuera del atardecer tostado, antes del ascenso de la luna;
Cuando el camino era una cinta gitana que rodeaba la morera púrpura.
Una tropa vestida de rojo marchaba:
Marchando, marchando;
Los hombres del rey Jorge venían marchando hacia la puerta de la antigua posada.

No le dijeron palabra al posadero y bebieron su cerveza en cambio;
Pero amordazaron a su hija y la ataron al pie de su estrecha cama;
Dos se arrodillaron junto al ventanuco con mosquetes a su lado!
Había muerte en cada ventana:
Infierno en una ventana oscura;
Porque Bess podía ver a través del ventanuco el camino que él iba a recorrer.

La habían atado firme ante ellos entre risitas burlonas;%
Le colocaron un mosquete a su lado con el cañón contra su pecho!
"¡Ahora vigila bien!" Y le dieron un beso. Ella oyó decir al muerto:
"Mírame bajo la luz lunar;
Espérame bajo la luz lunar;
Vendré a ti bajo la luz lunar aunque el infierno impida el paso."
Pataleó sus manos detrás suyo pero todos los nudos continuaron firmes!
Retorció las manos hasta que sus dedos estaban húmedos con sudor o sangre!
Se estiraban y tensaban en lo oscuro mientras las horas pasaban como años!
Hasta que ahora, al dar medianoche -
Frío - al dar medianoche -
¡La punta uno dedo le tocaba! ¡El gatillo al menos era suyo!
Tat-a-lot tat-a-lot! Lo habían oído? Las pezuñas sonaban claras:
Tat-a-lot tat-a-lot ¡a lo lejos!: Eran sordos que no oyeron?
Por aquella cinta llena de luna sobre lo alto del cerro
El bandolero llegaba montando —
Montando — montando!
Los rojos miraron sus primores: ¡ella se mantuvo erguida/quieta!.

Tat-a-lot en ese silencio helado… Tat-a-lot…en esa noche resonante!...
Más cerca venía... más cerca... ¡su rostro era como una luz!...
Sus ojos se agrandaron por un momento!... Ella