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 The yellow-leaved waterlily The green-sheathed daffodilly Tremble in the water chilly Willows whiten, aspens shiver. The sunbeam showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever By the island in the river Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel, singing clearly, O'er the stream of Camelot. Piling the sheaves in furrows airy, Beneath the moon, the reaper weary Listening whispers, ' 'Tis the fairy, The little isle is all inrail'd With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd With roses: by the marge unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken sail'd, Skimming down to Camelot. A pearl garland winds her head: She leaneth on a velvet bed, No time hath she to sport and play: A charmed web she weaves alway. A curse is on her, if she stay Her weaving, either night or day, She knows not what the curse may be; Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no other care hath she, She lives with little joy or fear. Over the water, running near, The sheepbell tinkles in her ear. Before her hangs a mirror clear, Reflecting tower'd Camelot. And as the mazy web she whirls, She sees 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, 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, came from Camelot: Or when the moon was overhead Came two young lovers lately wed; 'I am half sick of shadows,' said A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley-sheaves, The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flam'd upon the brazen greaves A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd That sparkled on the yellow field, 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 from Camelot: And from his blazon'd baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, 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 from Camelot. As often thro' the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Moves over green 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 from Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:' She left the web, she left the loom She made three paces thro' the room She saw the water-flower 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 In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky raining Outside the isle a shallow boat Beneath a willow lay afloat, Below the carven stern she wrote, A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight, All raimented in snowy white That loosely flew (her zone in sight Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright) Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, Though the squally east-wind keenly Blew, with folded arms serenely By the water stood the queenly With a steady stony glance— Like some bold seer in a trance, Beholding all his own mischance, Mute, with a glassy countenance— She look'd down to Camelot. It was the closing of the day: She loos'd the chain, and down she lay; The broad stream bore her far away, As when to sailors while they roam, By creeks and outfalls far from home, Rising and dropping with the foam, From dying swans wild warblings come, Blown shoreward; so to Camelot Still as the boathead wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her chanting her deathsong, A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy, She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her eyes were darken'd wholly, And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly, 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, By garden wall and gallery, A pale, pale corpse she floated by, Deadcold, between the houses high, Dead into tower'd Camelot. Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the planked wharfage came: Below the stern they read her name, They cross'd themselves, their stars they blest, Knight, minstrel, abbot, squire, and guest. There lay a parchment on her breast, That puzzled more than all the rest, The wellfed wits at Camelot. 'The web was woven curiously, The charm is broken utterly, Draw near and fear not,—this is I,
Lord Tennyson, Alfred, Works. London: Macmillan, 1891. Source: Works (Macmillan, 1891)
More Poems by Alfred, Lord Tennyson See All Poems by this Author
Part I 1On either side the river lie 2Long fields of barley and of rye, 3That clothe the wold and meet the sky; 4And thro' the field the road runs by 5 To many-tower'd Camelot; 6And up and down the people go, 7Gazing where the lilies blow 8Round an island there below, 9 The island of Shalott. 10Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 11Little breezes dusk and shiver 12Thro' the wave that runs for ever 13By the island in the river 14 Flowing down to Camelot. 15Four gray walls, and four gray towers, 16Overlook a space of flowers, 17And the silent isle imbowers 18 The Lady of Shalott. 19By the margin, willow veil'd, 20Slide the heavy barges trail'd 21By slow horses; and unhail'd 22The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd 23 Skimming down to Camelot: 24But who hath seen her wave her hand? 25Or at the casement seen her stand? 26Or is she known in all the land, 27 The Lady of Shalott? 28Only reapers, reaping early 29In among the bearded barley, 30Hear a song that echoes cheerly 31From the river winding clearly, 32 Down to tower'd Camelot: 33And by the moon the reaper weary, 34Piling sheaves in uplands airy, 35Listening, whispers " 'Tis the fairy 36 Lady of Shalott." Part II 37There she weaves by night and day 38A magic web with colours gay. 39She has heard a whisper say, 40A curse is on her if she stay 41 To look down to Camelot. 42She knows not what the curse may be, 43And so she weaveth steadily, 44And little other care hath she, 45 The Lady of Shalott. 46And moving thro' a mirror clear 47That hangs before her all the year, 48Shadows of the world appear. 49There she sees the highway near 50 Winding down to Camelot: 51There the river eddy whirls, 52And there the surly village-churls, 53And the red cloaks of market girls, 54 Pass onward from Shalott. 55Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, 56An abbot on an ambling pad, 57Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, 58Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, 59 Goes by to tower'd Camelot; 60And sometimes thro' the mirror blue 61The knights come riding two and two: 62She hath no loyal knight and true, 63 The Lady of Shalott. 64But in her web she still delights 65To weave the mirror's magic sights, 66For often thro' the silent nights 67A funeral, with plumes and lights 68 And music, went to Camelot: 69Or when the moon was overhead, 70Came two young lovers lately wed: 71"I am half sick of shadows," said 72 The Lady of Shalott. Part III 73A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, 74He rode between the barley-sheaves, 75The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, 76And flamed upon the brazen greaves 77 Of bold Sir Lancelot. 78A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd 79To a lady in his shield, 80That sparkled on the yellow field, 81 Beside remote Shalott. 82The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, 83Like to some branch of stars we see 84Hung in the golden Galaxy. 85The bridle bells rang merrily 86 As he rode down to Camelot: 87And from his blazon'd baldric slung 88A mighty silver bugle hung, 89And as he rode his armour rung, 90 Beside remote Shalott. 91All in the blue unclouded weather 92Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, 93The helmet and the helmet-feather 94Burn'd like one burning flame together, 95 As he rode down to Camelot. 96As often thro' the purple night, 97Below the starry clusters bright, 98Some bearded meteor, trailing light, 99 Moves over still Shalott. 100His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; 101On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; 102From underneath his helmet flow'd 103His coal-black curls as on he rode, 104 As he rode down to Camelot. 105From the bank and from the river 106He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 107"Tirra lirra," by the river 108 Sang Sir Lancelot. 109She left the web, she left the loom, 110She made three paces thro' the room, 111She saw the water-lily bloom, 112She saw the helmet and the plume, 113 She look'd down to Camelot. 114Out flew the web and floated wide; 115The mirror crack'd from side to side; 116"The curse is come upon me," cried 117 The Lady of Shalott. Part IV 118In the stormy east-wind straining, 119The pale yellow woods were waning, 120The broad stream in his banks complaining, 121Heavily the low sky raining 122 Over tower'd Camelot; 123Down she came and found a boat 124Beneath a willow left afloat, 125And round about the prow she wrote 126 The Lady of Shalott. 127And down the river's dim expanse 128Like some bold seër in a trance, 129Seeing all his own mischance— 130With a glassy countenance 131 Did she look to Camelot. 132And at the closing of the day 133She loosed the chain, and down she lay; 134The broad stream bore her far away, 135 The Lady of Shalott. 136Lying, robed in snowy white 137That loosely flew to left and right— 138The leaves upon her falling light— 139Thro' the noises of the night 140 She floated down to Camelot: 141And as the boat-head wound along 142The willowy hills and fields among, 143They heard her singing her last song, 144 The Lady of Shalott. 145Heard a carol, mournful, holy, 146Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, 147Till her blood was frozen slowly, 148And her eyes were darken'd wholly, 149 Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. 150For ere she reach'd upon the tide 151The first house by the water-side, 152Singing in her song she died, 153 The Lady of Shalott. 154Under tower and balcony, 155By garden-wall and gallery, 156A gleaming shape she floated by, 157Dead-pale between the houses high, 158 Silent into Camelot. 159Out upon the wharfs they came, 160Knight and burgher, lord and dame, 161And round the prow they read her name, 162 The Lady of Shalott. 163Who is this? and what is here? 164And in the lighted palace near 165Died the sound of royal cheer; 166And they cross'd themselves for fear, 167 All the knights at Camelot: 168But Lancelot mused a little space; 169He said, "She has a lovely face; 170God in his mercy lend her grace, 171 The Lady of Shalott." |