Lady of Shalott, The, is a narrative poem in four parts by the English poet Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Tennyson was one of the most important poets of the 1800’s and is now considered the most representative poet of the Victorian Age in England (1837-1901). Tennyson was named poet laureate of the United Kingdom in 1850.
“The Lady of Shalott” was written in the early phase of Tennyson’s career, when he was still heavily influenced by the artistic ideals of the Romantic poets. The Romantics valued emotion, sensation, the beauty of nature, and the power of the imagination. The poem was originally published in 1832 and then revised for the volume Poems in 1842. “The Lady of Shalott” was the first of many poems by Tennyson to deal with the legends of King Arthur and his kingdom. It tells the story of a young maiden, isolated in a tower outside the kingdom of Camelot. She breaks a curse placed upon her in order to leave her tower and follow Sir Lancelot, whom she has seen riding by. Once she has broken the spell upon her and taken a boat down the river to Camelot, she dies, “singing her last song.”
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 grey walls, and four grey 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 noble 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 lirra,” 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 bank 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 seer in a trance, Seeing all his own mischance— Did she look down 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.”
As with much of his other poetry, Tennyson used rich poetic imagery to evoke a moving poetic situation. But at the same time, he raised questions about the meaning of art. The lady who weaves a “magic web” in her tower is symbolic of the artist who, isolated from the world, creates a beautiful and enchanting work of art. Yet such detachment also represents entrapment, and eventually the lady can no longer resist the temptations of the outside world (symbolized by the knight of action). Once she has embarked on her journey down the river—which suggests the flow of life itself—she must, like all people, encounter the reality of death.
“The Lady of Shalott” has received a number of interpretations from readers and critics. Some argue that the poem is a morality tale warning of the dangers of a sacrifice to art, while others believe that beauty and artistic isolation are the poem’s most important ideals. Most of Tennyson’s greatest poetry, however, has more than a single viewpoint. He often seems to present an argument for an active engagement with life, only to suggest, through the verbal effects of his poetry, the irresistible lure of an escape.
Tennyson’s later poetry took on a more measured, reflective tone, with a less impassioned sense of inner conflict. But the gift that remained consistent throughout Tennyson’s career was the ability to reflect life’s paradoxical (contradictory) truths in his poetry.
For more information about Tennyson, see Tennyson, Lord. See also English literature (Later Victorian literature); Poet laureate.
