PART I
|
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 runs by |
To
many-towered 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 gray walls, and four gray towers, |
Overlook a space of flowers, |
And the silent isle imbowers |
The Lady of
Shalott.
|
By the margin, willow-veiled, |
Slide the heavy barges trailed |
By slow horses ; and unhailed |
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed |
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
towered 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 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 : |
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-haired page in crimson clad, |
Goes by to
towered 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.
|
PART III
|
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, |
He rode between the barley-sheaves, |
The sun came dazzling through the
leaves, |
And flamed upon the brazen greaves |
Of bold Sir
Lancelot. |
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled |
To a lady in his shield, |
That sparkled on the yellow field, |
Beside remote
Shalott.
|
The gemmy bridle glittered 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 blazoned baldric slung |
A mighty silver bugle hung, |
And as he rode his armour rung, |
Beside remote
Shalott.
|
All in the blue unclouded weather |
Thick-jewelled shone the
saddle-leather, |
The helmet and the helmet-feather |
Burned like one burning flame together, |
As he
rode down to Camelot. |
As often through the purple night, |
Below the starry clusters bright, |
Some bearded meteor, trailing light, |
Moves over
still Shalott.
|
His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed
; |
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode
; |
From underneath his helmet flowed |
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 lira,’ by the river |
Sang Sir
Lancelot.
|
She left the web, she left the loom, |
She made three paces through the room, |
She saw the water-lily bloom, |
She saw the helmet and the plume, |
She looked
down to Camelot. |
Out flew the web and floated wide ; |
The mirror cracked 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 towered
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 seër 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― |
Through 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 darkened wholly, |
Turned to
towered Camelot. |
For ere she reached 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 crossed 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.’
|
Alfred,
Lord Tennyson |
Classic Poems |
|
[ The Brook ] [ Blow, Bugle, Blow ] [ Come into the garden Maud ] [ Tithonus ] [ Ulysses ] [ Tears, Idle Tears ] [ The Lady of Shalott ] [ Song of the Lotus-Eaters ] [ The Charge of the Light Brigade ] [ In the Valley of Cauteretz ] [ In Memoriam ] [ The Eagle ] |