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PART I |
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On either side the river lie |
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Long fields of barley and of rye, |
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That clothe the wold and meet the sky; |
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And thro' the field the road runs by |
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To many-tower'd Camelot; |
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And up and down the people go, |
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Gazing where the lilies blow |
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Round an island there below, |
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The island of Shalott. |
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Willows whiten, aspens quiver, |
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Little breezes dusk and shiver |
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Thro' the wave that runs for ever |
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By the island in the river |
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Flowing down to Camelot. |
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Four gray walls, and four gray towers, |
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Overlook a space of flowers, |
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And the silent isle imbowers |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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By the margin, willow-veil'd |
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Slide the heavy barges trail'd |
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By slow horses; and unhail'd |
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The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd |
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Skimming down to Camelot: |
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But who hath seen her wave her hand? |
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Or at the casement seen her stand? |
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Or is she known in all the land, |
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The Lady of Shalott? |
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|
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Only reapers, reaping early |
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In among the bearded barley, |
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Hear a song that echoes cheerly |
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From the river winding clearly, |
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Down to tower'd Camelot: |
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And by the moon the reaper weary, |
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Piling sheaves in uplands airy, |
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Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy |
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Lady of Shalott". |
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PART II |
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There she weaves by night and day |
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A magic web with colours gay. |
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She has heard a whisper say, |
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A curse is on her if she stay |
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To look down to Camelot. |
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She knows not what the 'curse' may be, |
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And so she weaveth steadily, |
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And little other care hath she, |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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|
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And moving thro' a mirror clear |
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That hangs before her all the year, |
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Shadows of the world appear. |
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There she sees the highway near |
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Winding down to Camelot: |
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There the river eddy whirls, |
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And there the surly village-churls, |
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And the red cloaks of market girls, |
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Pass onward from Shalott. |
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Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, |
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An abbot on an ambling pad, |
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Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, |
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Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, |
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Goes by to tower'd Camelot; |
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And sometimes thro' the mirror blue |
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The knights come riding two and two: |
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She hath no loyal knight and true, |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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|
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But in her web she still delights |
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To weave the mirror's magic sights, |
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For often thro' the silent nights |
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A funeral, with plumes and lights, |
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And music, went to Camelot: |
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Or when the moon was overhead, |
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Came two young lovers lately wed; |
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"I am half-sick of shadows," said |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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|
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PART III |
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A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, |
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He rode between the barley sheaves, |
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The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, |
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And flamed upon the brazen greaves |
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Of bold Sir Lancelot. |
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A redcross knight for ever kneel'd |
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To a lady in his shield, |
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That sparkled on the yellow field, |
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Beside remote Shalott. |
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The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, |
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Like to some branch of stars we see |
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Hung in the golden Galaxy. |
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The bridle bells rang merrily |
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As he rode down to Camelot: |
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And from his blazon'd baldric slung |
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A mighty silver bugle hung, |
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And as he rode his armour rung, |
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Beside remote Shalott. |
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All in the blue unclouded weather |
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Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, |
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The helmet and the helmet-feather |
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Burn'd like one burning flame together, |
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As he rode down to Camelot. |
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As often thro' the purple night, |
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Below the starry clusters bright, |
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Some bearded meteor, burning bright, |
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Moves over still Shalott. |
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His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; |
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On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; |
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From underneath his helmet flow'd |
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His coal-black curls as on he rode, |
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As he rode down to Camelot. |
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From the bank and from the river |
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He flashed into the crystal mirror, |
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"Tirra lirra," by the river |
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Sang Sir Lancelot. |
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She left the web, she left the loom; |
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She made three paces thro' the room, |
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She saw the water-lily bloom, |
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She saw the helmet and the plume, |
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She look'd down to Camelot. |
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Out flew the web and floated wide; |
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The mirror crack'd from side to side; |
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"The curse is come upon me," cried |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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|
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PART IV |
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In the stormy east-wind straining, |
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The pale yellow woods were waning, |
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The broad stream in his banks complaining, |
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Heavily the low sky raining |
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Over tower'd Camelot; |
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Down she came and found a boat |
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Beneath a willow left afloat, |
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And round about the prow she wrote |
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'The Lady of Shalott.' |
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And down the river's dim expanse-- |
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Like some bold seёr in a trance, |
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Seeing all his own mischance-- |
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With a glassy countenance |
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Did she look to Camelot. |
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And at the closing of the day |
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She loosed the chain, and down she lay; |
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The broad stream bore her far away, |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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Lying, robed in snowy white |
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That loosely flew to left and right-- |
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The leaves upon her falling light-- |
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Thro' the noises of the night |
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She floated down to Camelot; |
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And as the boat-head wound along |
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The willowy hills and fields among, |
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They heard her singing her last song, |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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Heard a carol, mournful, holy, |
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Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, |
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Till her blood was frozen slowly, |
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And her eyes were darken'd wholly, |
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Turn'd to tower'd Camelot; |
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For ere she reach'd upon the tide |
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The first house by the water-side, |
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Singing in her song she died, |
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The Lady of Shalott. |
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Under tower and balcony, |
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By garden-wall and gallery, |
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A gleaming shape she floated by, |
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Dead-pale between the houses high, |
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Silent into Camelot. |
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Out upon the wharfs they came, |
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Knight and burgher, lord and dame, |
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And round the prow they read her name, |
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'The Lady of Shalott' |
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Who is this? And what is here? |
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And in the lighted palace near |
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Died the sound of royal cheer; |
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And they cross'd themselves for fear, |
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All the knights at Camelot: |
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But Lancelot mused a little space; |
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He said, "She has a lovely face; |
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God in his mercy lend her grace, |
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The Lady of Shalott". |
