Sleep my daughter Grania, the roads are quiet now.
No more soldiers marching, no more Romans on the prowl.
The piper’s on the hillside, and the harper’s in the hall,
So sleep and dream, my darling: dream of anything at all.
Sleep, Ygerna, little one, the verse of all my songs,
And dream of all the futures where your little soul belongs.
Dream a noble husband, dream a castle by the sea,
And dream of all the grandchildren that you will give to me.
Every possibility arises in your mind
Love that courts nobility and love that leaves you blind
Ecstasy and tragedy, each path is open wide,
And you will travel both roads as a mother and a bride.
Dream upon your noble mate, a landholder from Cornwall.
He’ll give you walls and linens, and you’ll love him not at all.
Dream upon your true love now, a chieftan of renown,
Who’ll steal your heart and hide your belly in a High Queen’s gown.
Dream upon your children, one a quiet, changeling girl
Who’ll learn the arts of magic as she sets men’s minds awhirl.
Your boy will be a warrior, called a dragon and a bear,
And history will mark him as a king beyond compare.
Dream the possibilities, a thousand different lives
Dream your immortality, your memory survives
My little stuff of legends, of your life the bards will sing,
My gentle, fairest Grania, the mother of the king.
Sleep Igraine, my little one, for midnight will come soon,
And I have rambled long enough beneath this waning moon.
I’ve filled your head with nonsense, but at last you’re gone to sleep,
And all my tales are foolishness. Dream long, my dear, dream deep.
Sleep my daughter Grania, the night is quiet now.
No more stories, no more songs, one last kiss upon your brow.
The piper’s traveled home now, and the harper’s songs are through,
So sleep and dream my darling — and may all your dreams come true.
Words by Gwen Knighton
Music by Gwen Knighton