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Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of The Nameless Love, We Deserve To Die, Nemorensis / Monvment, Exaltation, Fleecian Winter Majesty, Eternal Hours, The Arch Holder, Sunstrider, and 28 more.
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The Penumbral Grove
06:15
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“…To sleep, perchance to dream…”
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2. |
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“Where art thou, my gentle child?
Let me think thy spirit feeds,
With its life intense and mild,
The love of living leaves and weeds
Among these tombs and ruins wild;—
Let me think that through low seeds
Of sweet flowers and sunny grass
Into their hues and scents may pass
A portion—
Percy Shelley. “To William Shelley.” MDCCCXXIV.
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“When the sun rises I long for thee, and when the sun sets I long for thee still. Surely I would ask no boon of this life but to lie with thee once more, if but once more. Such is my ardor. In knowing thee all else beneath the sun seems foul, and so does all beauty pale to thine, so that no fair thing shall ever seem fair so long as my love for thee endures. I carry its ashes in somber procession, silent, arrayed in black, and will take for myself no other love so long as I tarry beneath the sky. I love thee, now and always.”
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“I ween that I hung on the windy tree,
Hung there for nights full nine;
With the spear I was wounded, and offered I was
To Othin, myself to myself,
On the tree that none may ever know
What root beneath it runs.”
Anon. “Hávamál,” v. CXXXIX. Codex Regius, MCCC. Trans. Henry A. Bellows, MCMXXXVI.
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5. |
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“Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”
John Keats. “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” MDCCCXIX
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6. |
Alban Arthan
08:39
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“Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb
Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw,
Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand,
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King,
Down that long water opening on the deep
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go
From less to less and vanish into light.
And the new sun rose bringing the new year.”
Alfred Lord Tennyson. “The Passing of Arthur.” The Idylls of the King, MDCCCLIX
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“She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;
And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips
Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,
Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:
Ay, in the very temple of Delight
Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine,
Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue
Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine;
His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might,
And be among her cloudy trophies hung.”
John Keats. “Ode On Melancholy.” MDCCCXIX
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“Oh, where do you wander
When the frost fades in spring?
Do you seek for the land where the hearth glows everlasting?”
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9. |
Naught But Worn-Out Joy
09:46
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“When she died at last, her Lancelot came for the body, with his snow—white hair and wrinkled cheeks, to carry it to her husband’s grave. There, in the reputed grave, she was buried: a calm and regal face, nailed down and hidden in the earth.
“As for Lancelot, he became a hermit in earnest…He entered a monastery near Glastonbury, and devoted his life to worship…and lived in glad austerities apart from man. He even learned to distinguish birdsongs in the woods. Arthur, Guenever, and Elaine were gone, but his ghostly love remained.”
T.H. White. “The Book Of Merlyn.” The Once And Future King. Harper Collins, MCMLVIII, pp. CMXXII-CMXXIII.
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Pacific Threnodies California
Dark Paeans from the Central Coast of California
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