The Lady of Shalott © Isabel Andrés Domínguez. On either side the river lie Long fields of barley...
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Transcript of The Lady of Shalott © Isabel Andrés Domínguez. On either side the river lie Long fields of barley...
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The Lady of Shalott
© Isabel Andrés Domínguez
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On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And trho' the field the road run by
To many-towered Camelot;
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And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
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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.
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Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott
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Only reapers, reaping early, In among the beared barley Hear a song that echoes cheerly 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, Piling sheaves in uplands airy, Listening, whispers "'tis the fairy
The Lady of Shalott."
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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
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To look down to Camelot.
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She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
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And moving through a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near
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Winding down to 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.
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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 with lights
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And music went to Camelot
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Or when the Moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed. "I am, half sick of shadow," she said,
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The Lady of Shalott.
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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.
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A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
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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,
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As he rode down to Camelot.
And from the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
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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.
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Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried --
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The Lady of Shalott
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In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, The broad stream in his banks complaining. Heavily the low sky raining
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Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat,
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And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
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Down the river's dim expanse Like some bold seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance - With a glassy countenance
She looked to Camelot.
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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.
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Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Chanted loudly, chanted slowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd Camelot.
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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.
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Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
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And out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame, And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
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Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer; They crossed themselves for fear,
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The Knights at Camelot;
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But Lancelot mused a little space He said, "she has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace,
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The Lady of Shalott