On
either side the river lie
Long fields
of barley and of rye,
That clothe
the wold and meet the sky;
And through
the field the road run 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
Through
the wave that runs for ever
By the
island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey
walls, and four grey towers,
Overlook
a space of flowers,
And the
silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
Only reapers,
reaping early,
In among
the beared 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
The Lady of Shalott."
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 heat she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving
through 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;
And sometimes
through 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
through 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.
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.
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 flashed
into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra
lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left
the web, she left the loom,
She made
three paces through the room,
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.
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 around
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.
Heard a
carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted
loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her
blood was frozen slowly,
And her
eyes were darkened 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 around
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
crossed themselves for fear,
All the Knights at Camelot;
Lancelot
mused a little space
He said,
"She has a lovely face;
God in
his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott." |
|
‘The
Lady of Shalott’
Alfred,
Lord Tennyson
|