This is a wonderfull piece .. pity it's recorded in the street..

[youtube][/youtube]

Love Always
mudra

[youtube][/youtube]

Love Always
mudra

Yeah - I'll look into this. Man it sure will be nice to get to a Forum Installation that isn't buggy...

This is why I've been Counseling the addition of the WebServer as these Sites do some things that just make Me shake My head. And for no flippin' reason either. Its fine one day and no Edits are made and then - Bang next day its all gone to the dogs...

I need to back up and take a deep breath here...



Give Me a few...

OK - I got It.

The Host must have done an Edit/Upgrade to the MySQL and or the Database because now - We can just take the URL or Internet Address of the Video and Paste that into the Video Post Box Instead of the Embed Code now.

Once You use the Internet Address of the Video rather than the Embed Code - The Youtube Quotes are not displayed and the Video Posts normally. I will add this to the Posting Videos Thread I created earlier on during the Forum's inception...

Thanks for noticing this Mudra...

Love Always
mudra

Love Always
mudra

Guillaume Dufay (1397-1474) - Vasilissa ergo gaude


from: "Dufay - O Gemma Lux (The Complete Isorhythmic Motets)" by the Huelgas Ensemble

Very beautifull piece metaw :)
Thank you so much for bringing it here .

Love from me
mudra

You're welcome mudra. The conductor is from your country:
http://www.huelgasensemble.be/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=76&Itemid=71

Here is "La fille au roi Louis" interpreted by Le Poème Harmonique, conducted by Vincent Dumestre, from the album "Aux marches du palais (Romances & complaintes de la France d'autrefois)":

7- La fille au roi Louis (air de cour, 1607) « un des plus beaux airs qui existent » selon Gérard de Nerval

Le Roi Louis est sur son pont Tenant sa fille en son giron Elle se voudrait bien marier Au beau Déon, franc chevalier Ma fille, n'aimez jamais Déon Car c'est un chevalier félon; C'est le plus pauvre chevalier, Qui n'a pas vaillant six deniers. -J'aime Déon, je l'aimerai, J'aime Déon pour sa beauté, Plus que ma mère et mes parents, Et vous mon père, qui m'aimez tant. -Ma fille, il faut changer d'amour, Ou vous entrerez dans la tour. -J'aime mieux rester dans la tour, Mon père que de changer d'amour. -Avant que changer mes amours, J'aime mieux mourir dans la tour. -Eh bien ma fille, vous y mourrez, De guérison point vous n'aurez. Le beau Déon, passant par là, Un mot de lettre lui jeta; Il y avait dessus écrit: "Belle, ne le mettez en oubli"; Faites-vous morte ensevelir, Que l'on vous porte à Saint-Denis; En terre laissez-vous porter, Point enterrer ne vous lairrai. La belle n'y a pas manqué, Dans le moment a trépassé; Elle s'est laissé ensevelir, On l'a portée à Saint-Denis. Le roi va derrière en pleurant, Les prêtres vont devant chantant: Quatre-vingts prêtres, trente abbés, Autant d'évêques couronnés. Le beau Déon passant par là: -Arrêtez, prêtres, halte-là! C'est m'amie que vous emportez, Ah! laissez-moi la regarder! Il tira son couteau d'or fin Et décousit le drap de lin: En l'embrassant, fit un soupir, La belle lui fit un souris: -Ah! voyez quelle trahison De ma fille et du beau Déon! Il les faut pourtant marier, Et qu'il n'en soit jamais parlé. Sonnez trompettes et violons, Ma fille aura le beau Déon. Fillette qu'a envie d'aimer, Père ne peut l'en empêcher!

King Louis is on his bridge With his daughter on his lap. She would like to marry Fair Déon, a noble knight. ‘My daughter, never love Déon, For he is a disloyal knight; He is the poorest of knights, And not worth sixpence.’ ‘I love Déon and I shall love him; I love Déon for his beauty, More than my mother and my family, And you, my father, who love me so well.’ ‘My daughter, you must love another, Or you will be shut in the tower.’ ‘I would be shut in the tower, My father, rather than love another. Rather than love another, I would die in the tower.’ ‘Then, my daughter, there you shall die, For there is no other remedy.’ Fair Déon, passing that way, Threw a message to her, On which was written: ‘My love, do not forget: Have yourself buried as dead, Let them bear you to St Denis; Let them lay you in the ground; I shall not leave you buried.’ The maid did as he bade her: Then and there she died; She let them wrap her in a shroud, And they bore her to St Denis. The king came after, weeping, The priests went before, singing: Eighty priests, thirty abbots, And as many mitred bishops. Fair Déon, passing that way: ‘Stop, priests, halt! ‘Tis my beloved you are bearing away, Ah, let me look at her!’ He drew his knife of purest gold And slit open the shroud: Kissing her, he sighed; His beloved smiled at him: ‘Oh! See how my daughter And fair Déon have betrayed us! But we shall have to marry them, And let there be no more said of it. Sound, trumpets and violins, My daughter will have fair Déon. A daughter who wishes to love Cannot be prevented by her father!’

1607, final love duet from one of the first opera ever written: