On
either side the river lie
Long
fields of barley and of rye,
That
clothe the world 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."
