the lady of shalott

Wed, 20 Aug 2014 19:50:25 +0000

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250-1900.

Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. 1809-1892

'''The Lady of Shalott'''

!!! PART I

On either side the river lie // Long fields of barley and of rye, // That clothe the wold and meet the sky; // And thro' the field the road runs by // To many-tower'd Camelot; // And up and down the people go, // Gazing where the lilies blow // Round an island there below, // The island of Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver, // Little breezes dusk and shiver // Thro' the wave that runs for ever // By the island in the river // Flowing down to Camelot. // Four gray walls, and four gray towers, // Overlook a space of flowers, // And the silent isle imbowers // The Lady of Shalott.

By the margin, willow-veil'd, // Slide the heavy barges trail'd // By slow horses; and unhail'd // The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd // Skimming down to Camelot: // But who hath seen her wave her hand? // Or at the casement seen her stand? // Or is she known in all the land, // The Lady of Shalott?

Only reapers, reaping early // In among the bearded barley, // Hear a song that echoes cheerly // From the river winding clearly, // Down to tower'd Camelot: // And by the moon the reaper weary, // Piling sheaves in uplands airy, // Listening, whispers ' 'Tis the fairy // Lady of Shalott.'

!!! PART II

There she weaves by night and day // A magic web with colours gay. // She has heard a whisper say, // A curse is on her if she stay // To look down to Camelot. // She knows not what the curse may be, // And so she weaveth steadily, // And little other care hath she, // The Lady of Shalott.

And moving thro' a mirror clear // That hangs before her all the year, // Shadows of the world appear. // There she sees the highway near // Winding down to Camelot: // There the river eddy whirls, // And there the surly village-churls, // And the red cloaks of market girls, // Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, // An abbot on an ambling pad, // Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, // Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, // Goes by to tower'd Camelot; // And sometimes thro' the mirror blue // The knights come riding two and two: // She hath no loyal knight and true, // The Lady of Shalott.

But in her web she still delights // To weave the mirror's magic sights, // For often thro' the silent nights // A funeral, with plumes and lights, // And music, went to Camelot: // Or when the moon was overhead, // Came two young lovers lately wed; // 'I am half sick of shadows,' said // The Lady of Shalott.

!!! PART III

A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, // He rode between the barley-sheaves, // The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, // And flamed upon the brazen greaves // Of bold Sir Lancelot. // A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd // To a lady in his shield, // That sparkled on the yellow field, // Beside remote Shalott.

The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, // Like to some branch of stars we see // Hung in the golden Galaxy. // The bridle bells rang merrily // As he rode down to Camelot: // And from his blazon'd baldric slung // A mighty silver bugle hung, // And as he rode his armour rung, // Beside remote Shalott.

All in the blue unclouded weather // Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, // The helmet and the helmet-feather // Burn'd like one burning flame together, // As he rode down to Camelot. // As often thro' the purple night, // Below the starry clusters bright, // Some bearded meteor, trailing light, // Moves over still Shalott.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; // On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; // From underneath his helmet flow'd // His coal-black curls as on he rode, // As he rode down to Camelot. // From the bank and from the river // He flash'd into the crystal mirror, // 'Tirra lirra,' by the river // Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom, // She made three paces thro' the room, // She saw the water-lily bloom, // She saw the helmet and the plume, // She look'd down to Camelot. // Out flew the web and floated wide; // The mirror crack'd from side to side; // 'The curse is come upon me!' cried // The Lady of Shalott.

!!! PART IV

In the stormy east-wind straining, // The pale yellow woods were waning, // The broad stream in his banks complaining, // Heavily the low sky raining // Over tower'd Camelot; // Down she came and found a boat // Beneath a willow left afloat, // And round about the prow she wrote // The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse // Like some bold seer in a trance, // Seeing all his own mischance // With a glassy countenance // Did she look to Camelot. // And at the closing of the day // She loosed the chain, and down she lay; // The broad stream bore her far away, // The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white // That loosely flew to left and right // The leaves upon her falling light // Thro' the noises of the night // She floated down to Camelot: // And as the boat-head wound along // The willowy hills and fields among, // They heard her singing her last song, // The Lady of Shalott.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy, // Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, // Till her blood was frozen slowly, // And her eyes were darken'd wholly, // Turn'd to tower'd Camelot; // For ere she reach'd upon the tide // The first house by the water-side, // Singing in her song she died, // The Lady of Shalott.

Under tower and balcony, // By garden-wall and gallery, // A gleaming shape she floated by, // Dead-pale between the houses high, // Silent into Camelot. // Out upon the wharfs they came, // Knight and burgher, lord and dame, // And round the prow they read her name, // The Lady of Shalott.

Who is this? and what is here? // And in the lighted palace near // Died the sound of royal cheer; // And they cross'd themselves for fear, // All the knights at Camelot: // But Lancelot mused a little space; // He said, 'She has a lovely face; // God in His mercy lend her grace, // The Lady of Shalott.'