In the hall that was built of moon light, dreams, music and mirage, Lirazel knelt before her father's throne and besought a rune that should restore to her Alveric, bringing him over the border and into the Elfin lands. And with him she prayed might come some garden of Earth, or bank where violets lay, or hollow where cowslips swayed, to shine in Elfland forever.
“I have no rune,” he said, “that has power to lure anything from the mundane fields. No rune but one, and that the last of the potencies of our realm.”
And so it was that those in Erl saw coming towards them a shimmering line of silver sweeping over the fields. Slowly it came, like the blended twilights of old lost summer evenings. It flowed past the houses, and broke over them with a burst of unearthly foam. Elfland had poured over Erl.
Beyond the fields we know There's a fine and shining line And some day we will go Where there is neither tide nor time. Twilight falls on marble halls, Silver spires that touch the sun, Golden horns that faintly blow, Beyond the fields we know, Beyond the fields we know
Beyond the fields we know, There's a palace made of songs And some day we will go Where there is neither right nor wrong. Like the leaves, we'll ride the breeze Through the blue until we see Those Elfin mountains all aglow Beyond the fields we know, Beyond the fields we know
Lirazel, Mary Hopkin Drums, Kenny Clarc Bass, Herbie Flowers Acoustic guitars, Chris Spedding Mandolins, Peter Knight Choir, The English Chorale Vocals, Lavinia Rogers, Denise Garcia, Eleonor Keenan