Overleg:The Lady of Shalott (Tennyson)
Tennyson:
The Lady Of Shalott
1842 Version 1832 Version
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-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
... ... ... ...
...
The yellowleavèd waterlily, The greensheathèd daffodilly, Trembled in the water chilly,
Round about Shalott
Tennyson changed a copy of the 1832 version to "The yellow globe o' the waterlily". Probably the water lilies had green leaves and yellow flowers. 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 embowers
The Lady of Shalott.
... ... The sunbeam-showers break and quiver In the stream that runneth ever
...
... ... ...
...
By the margin, willow-veil'd, Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhailed The shallop flitteth, silken-sail'd
Skimming down to Camelot
Yet who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she know in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott? 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
Lady of Shalott."
Only reapers, reaping early, In among the beared 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." The little isle is all inrailed
With a rose-fence, and overtrailed With roses: by the marge unhailed The shallop flitteth silen-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
A pearlgarland winds her head; She leaneth on a velvet bed, Fully royally apparelèd,
The Lady of Shalott.
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. No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmèd web she weaves alway. A curse is on her, if she stay Her weaving, either night or day,
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be, Therefore she weaveth steadily, Therefore no 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-hair'd page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through 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 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.
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 kneeled 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 armor rung
Beside remote Shalott. ...
... ... ...
As he rode down from Camelot:
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...
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. ...
... ... ...
As he rode down from Camelot:
... ... ...
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 to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot. ...
... ... ...
As he rode down from Camelot:
... ... "Tirra lirra, tirra lirra" ...
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 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. ...
... She saw the waterflower bloom ...
...
... ... ...
...
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 around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.