Published 1832, much revised 1842. Written, at least in part, by 5–9 Oct. 1831 (Hallam to Frederick T.: ‘I would fain know where the Lady of Shalott abides at present’; AHH, p. 487); then by 31 May 1832 (FitzGerald’s Letters, Kraken’, whose whole body ‘in all likelihood no human eye ever beheld’. i 112–3). T. says it was ‘taken from an Italian novelette, Donna di Scalotta’. T. noted in T.Nbk 23: ‘Legends. / The Lady of Scalot. Novelle Antiche’. The source is quoted in Italian, Mat. iv 461: ‘The following is the Italian novella on which The Lady of Shalott was founded: Novella LXXXI Quì conta come la Damigella di Scalot morì per amore di Lancialotto de Lac. From the Cento Novelle Antiche, dated conjecturally before 1321. Text from the Milan edn, ed. G. Ferrario, 1804.’ The source had been mentioned by F. T. Palgrave and by John Churton Collins, and was investigated by L. S. Potwin, MLN xvii (1902) 473–7, and by D. L. Chambers, MLN xviii (1903) 227–8. But the story is very different; the poem has no Arthur, and no Queen; the source has no mirror, weaving, curse, song, river, or island. Apart from the Lady’s death, the main links are that Camelot is the end of the funeral voyage, and is – unusually – on the sea-shore, and that there is an astonished crowd about the body. G. R. Jackson notes that, like the source, 1832 has no Lancelot among the onlookers at the end. The 1832 text is slightly closer in some details, e.g. her death-letter. F. J. Furnivall quotes T. in Jan. 1868: ‘I met the story first in some Italian novelle: but the web, mirror, island, etc., were my own. Indeed, I doubt whether I should ever have put it in that shape if I had been then aware of the Maid of Astolat in Mort Arthur’ (Rossetti Papers 1862–1870, ed. W. M. Rossetti, 1903, p. 341). T. may have seen Thomas Roscoe’s translation (1825), where she is ‘the Lady’, not ‘Damsel’. T. says: ‘The Lady of Shalott is evidently the Elaine of the Morte d’Arthur [cp. Lancelot and Elaine, p. 834], but I do not think that I had ever heard of the latter when I wrote the former. Shalott was a softer sound than “Scalott”.’ See Malory xviii. J. M. Gray (TRB ii, 1976, 210–11) suggests that T. may have forgotten that Malory influenced the poem; he compares l. 73 with Malory’s distance, ‘as nigh … as bow-draught’, and ll. 78–80 with Malory’s Lancelot and his ‘shield all of sable, and a queen crowned in the midst, all of silver, and a knight clene armed kneeling afore her’ (Malory i and xii). Paden (pp. 156–7) notes the general influence of T. C. Croker’s Fairy Legends (1825–8) and of Thomas Keightley’s Fairy Mythology (1828), both of which T. knew. He also argues for the influence of G. S. Faber’s religious mythologizing: ‘It may be suggested that she is one of those nymphs, occupied in weaving, whom Porphyry explained as human souls about to be born into the world’; Faber claimed them as symbols for the epoptae of the mysteries. ‘Bishop Percy had affirmed, in a note at the end of the ballad on the death of Arthur, that “Ladies was the word our old English writers used for Nymphs”. In a very Tennysonian revision of Faber, the birth of a soul is identified with the coming of love, and love brings with it the doom of God.’ On T.’s later owning books by Faber, see p. 149. R. Simpson takes up J. M. Gray’s reference to Louisa Stuart Costello’s poem The Funeral Boat (1829), indebted to the same Italian novella (TRB iv, 1984, 129–31). L. Stevenson (Critical Essays on Tennyson, ed. Killham, pp. 129–30) suggests the influence of Shelley’s Witch of Atlas, for an onlooker who weaves, and who has a magic boat: ‘’Tis said in after times her spirit free / Knew what love was, and felt itself alone.’ T. comments (Mem. i 117): ‘The new-born love for something, for some one in the wide world from which she has been so long secluded, takes her out of the region of shadows into that of realities’. H.T. comments: ‘The key to this tale of magic symbolism is of deep human significance and is to be found in the lines [69–72].’ Culler (p. 44) notes that the authority for the comments by T. and H.T. is Canon Ainger’s Tennyson for the Young (1891), where there is however no ‘indication that they come from Tennyson’. Cp. the companion poem, Life of the Life (I 548). G. Cannon suggests that The Arabian Nights (269th Night) provided the mirror: that is, a magic jewel with five facets, one of which shows a river, another a knight on a steed; the story also has a funeral scroll. The tale was available in various English and French versions by 1832, but Cannon adds: ‘Unfortunately, no version seems to contain details close enough to T.’s terminology to suggest an actual borrowing of phrases and images. The 269th Tale is not in Edward Forster’s fivevolume edition (London, 1802) which T. apparently knew’ (VP viii, 1970, 344–6). S. C. Wilson (misprinted as ‘Allen’, TRB ii, 1975, 171–2) suggests the influence of Sappho, fragment 102, in particular for the weaving; he notes other similarities, along with the fact that T. later marked with a small pencilled cross this fragment in Poetae Lyrici Graeci (Lincoln). For an account of previous interpretations and a new reading, see E. F. Shannon, VP xix (1981) 207–23. M. A. Lourie argues for Shelley’s influence on the poem, especially Prometheus Unbound, and describes T.’s new kind of Romanticism (Studies in Romanticism xviii, 1979, 19–21, 27): ‘Between 1830 and 1833 T. had essentially invented Pre-Raphaelitism.’
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 gray walls, and four gray 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.’
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
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 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.
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
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.
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 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 seër 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 –
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.’
¶159.5. many-towered: followed by ‘lilies’, this suggests Ilion, Ilion (I 281).
6–9] 1842; The yellowleavèd waterlily,
The greensheathèd daffodilly,
Tremble in the water chilly,
Round about Shalott. 1832
T. altered J. M. Heath’s copy of 1832 (Fitzwilliam Museum) to ‘The yellow globe o’ the waterlily’. Cp. Anacreontics 2–3 (1830): ‘And drooping daffodilly, / And silverleavèd lily.’
10. quiver] 1842; shiver 1832.
11–12] 1842; The sunbeam-showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth ever 1832
19–27, 28–36] 1842; transposed 1832.
19–21] 1842; The little isle is all inrailed
With a rose-fence, and overtrailed
With roses: by the marge unhailed 1832
24–6] 1842; A pearlgarland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Full royally apparellèd, 1832
27. Shalott?] 1842; Shalott. 1832.
28–34] 1842; 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 1832
30. cheerly: T. compares Richard II I iii 66: ‘But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath’.
34. Thomas Warton has ‘airy uplands’ in his Sonnet ii, ‘When late the trees’ (1777).
37–40] 1842; 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, 1832
43. And so] 1842; Therefore 1832.
44. And little] 1842; Therefore no 1832.
46–51] 1842; 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 towered Camelot.
And, as the mazy web she whirls, 1832
46. The mirror is not there simply for the fairy-tale; it was set behind the tapestry so that the worker could see the effect from the right side. This was slightly clearer in the sequence of lines in 1832. T. was much influenced by Spenser’s Faerie Queene III ii, on Britomart and Artegall: ‘The wondrous myrrhour, by which she in love with him did fall’. Spenser mentions ‘the Towre, / Wherein th’ Ægyptian Phao long did lurke / From all mens vew, that none might her discoure, / Yet she might all men vew out of her bowre.’ Britomart looks in the mirror: ‘Eftsoones there was presented to her eye / A comely knight, all arm’d in complet wize.’ She is then languishing: ‘Till death make one end of my dayes and miserie’.
52. And there] 1842; She sees 1832.
68. went to] 1842; came from 1832.
69–70] At morning often journeyèd
Two deepeyed lovers, lately wed T.Nbk 16 1st reading
78. red-cross knight: for the Spenserian influence, see l. 46n.
82ff. For the knight’s appearance, T. takes up details from Faerie Queene I vii st. 29 ff.
86. to] 1842; from 1832. Likewise in ll. 95, 104.
99. still] 1842; green 1832.
107] 1842; ‘Tirra lirra, tirra lirra,’ 1832. From Winter’s Tale IV iii 9. Turner (p. 61) notes that T. ‘faintly underlined the Damsel’s sexual frustration by making Lancelot, at her first sight of him, sing “Tirra lirra, tirra lirra”, taken from a song in The Winter’s Tale where Autolycus thinks of “tumbling in the hay” with his “aunts” (whores)’. Cp. the fragment I sent no ambassador forward
16: ‘Tirrala, Tirrala’.
111. water-lily] 1842; waterflower 1832.
123 1842; Outside the isle a shallow boat 1832.
124. left] 1842; lay 1832.
125. And … prow] 1842; Below the carven stern 1832.
126 ^ 7] A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight.
All raimented in snowy white
That loosely flew, (her zone in sight,
Clasped with one blinding diamond bright,)
Her wide eyes fixed on Camelot,
Though the squally eastwind keenly
Blew, with folded arms serenely
By the water stood the queenly
Lady of Shalott. 1832
Cp. l. 136.
127] 1842; With a steady, stony glance – 1832.
129. Seeing] 1842; Beholding 1832.
130. With] 1842; Mute, with 1832.
131. Did she look] 1842; She looked down 1832.
132. And at] 1842; It was 1832. Gray (p. 149) notes 1 Henry IV III ii 133: ‘The closing of some glorious day’.
136–41] 1842; 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 … 1832
143. singing her last song] 1842; chanting her deathsong 1832. With this stanza, especially 1832, cp. The Dying Swan ( p. 15), and Morte d’Arthur 266–9 (p. 163).
145. Heard a] 1842; A longdrawn 1832.
146. Chanted] 1842; She chanted 1832.
147, 148] 1842; transposed 1832 ( Till her eyes … ).
148] 1842; And her smooth face sharpened slowly 1832. T. records that ‘George Eliot liked my first [version] the best’.
156. gleaming shape] 1842; pale, pale corpse 1832.
157. Dead-pale] 1855; Deadcold 1832; A corse 1842–53.
158] 1842; Dead into towered Camelot. 1832.
159, 160] 1842; transposed 1832.
159] 1842; To the plankèd wharfage came 1832.
161. And … prow] 1842; Below the stern 1832. As E. F. Shannon points out, Tennyson and the Reviewers (1952), p. 41, J. W. Croker ‘had noted with derision that the name, The Lady of Shalott, was “below the stern” of the boat’.
163–71] 1842; They crossed 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,
The Lady of Shalott.’ 1832
John Stuart Mill objected to the 1832 stanza, London Review, July 1835. 168. E. E. Duncan-Jones notes Scott, Marmion I xxi, ‘The Captain mused a little space’.