The Lady of Shalott:

Of legends, poems, paintings, music and cinema.


♥ This page is in permanent actualization ♥

I take it as a quest to explore all the media related to The Lady of Shalott, and fortunately, there is a lot! So I'll update the page as I found more art and info. (8th of february, 2025)

I'm finding lots and lots of academic literature and non-fiction regarding The Lady of Shalott, my subject grows more complex before my eyes. What was first intended as a walkthrough of all the media inspired by Elaine of Astolat, now is becoming a more thoughtful project where I want to include more substantial information. At the bottom of the page I included what I'm reading to understand better the figure of Elaine and it's representations through time. (12th of february, 2025)

More than ten years ago, in 2011, I was really into metal music. I scrapped hispanic websites in search of under bands and sometimes ventured into the anglo side of the internet too. That's how I found A Dream of Poe and their first album The Mirror of Deliverance. Teen me was bewitched by the gloomy sound of doom and the gothic imagery, even without fulling understanding the lyrics. My favourite song? Lady of Shalott of course. Could you believe that back then the lyrics weren't anywhere? Only years later I found them and could now fully appreciate the song.

But the mistery of the lost lyrics and the isolated words or phrases that I caught while listeing carefully the song sparked my curiosity. That's how I learnt the tragic story of Elaine of Astolat, and all the art that depicted her fate. My first encounters were, of course, the iconic painting "The Lady of Shalott" by the Pre-Raphaelite John William Waterhouse from 1888 and it's inspiration: the 1842 poem "The Lady of Shalott" by Alfred Tennyson. I included both versions of the poem, as they differences are key to the meaning of each and the portray of Elaine.



The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Tennyson

1832 version

1842 version


Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
The yellow-leaved waterlily
The green-sheathed daffodilly
Tremble in the water chilly
Round about Shalott.

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth 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.

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.'

The little isle is all inrail'd
With a rose-fence, and overtrail'd
With roses: by the marge unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken sail'd,
Skimming down to Camelot.
A pearl garland winds her head:
She leaneth on a velvet bed,
Full royally apparelled,
The Lady of Shalott.


Part II
No time hath she to sport and play:
A charmed 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.

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 tower'd Camelot.
And as the mazy web she whirls,
She sees 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, came from 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 flam'd 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 from 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 from Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
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 from Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
'Tirra lirra, tirra lirra:'
Sang Sir Lancelot.

She left the web, she left the loom
She made three paces thro' the room
She saw the water-flower 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;
Outside the isle a shallow boat
Beneath a willow lay afloat,
Below the carven stern she wrote,
The Lady of Shalott.

A cloudwhite crown of pearl she dight,
All raimented in snowy white
That loosely flew (her zone in sight
Clasp'd with one blinding diamond bright)
Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot,
Though the squally east-wind keenly
Blew, with folded arms serenely
By the water stood the queenly
Lady of Shalott.

With a steady stony glance—
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Beholding all his own mischance,
Mute, with a glassy countenance—
She look'd down to Camelot.
It was the closing of the day:
She loos'd the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.

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 the boathead wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her chanting her deathsong,
The Lady of Shalott.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her eyes were darken'd wholly,
And her smooth face sharpen'd slowly,
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 pale, pale corpse she floated by,
Deadcold, between the houses high,
Dead into tower'd Camelot.
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
To the planked wharfage came:
Below the stern they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

They cross'd 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.'
Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold 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
The 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 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—
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."

Loreena McKennit has a song with the 1842 poem, although omitting some parts. I don't know if it enters into the category of celtic music but it sounds nice.


This part is still in construction

Lady of Shalott

by A Dream of Poe

Shalott

by Emilie Autumn


Weave the tread of our fall
Blind of all flesh from your beloved Camelot.
It´s the curse of the Lady of Shalott.

“God in his mercy lend her grace”

Outcast from the world I have become
Looking into a mirror to see Camelot
It´s the burden of the Lady of Shalott.

But when the curse falls down upon us
We will burn together
Under rain, the wickiest of weather
And sail, pale white, onto Camelot
Dead by the side of the Lady of Shalott.

I´ll crawl to the Sun.
The mirror is cracking now
Silent & broken I´ve become
From the weaving of my pain.
Curse my life & the mark of Cain
For no more shall the lady of Shalott
Sit quietly longing for dear old Camelot.

Oh and the boat came empty of love
Carrying the finest of all ladies
A dying angel from above
Who tried to reach Camelot
Here lays the lady of Shalott...

My hands will not heal you
My deepest sorrow is in vain
As you turn pale and blue,
Parting to the land of the dead.
But sorrow is all I got,
So travel far lady of Shalott.


She's locked up with a spinning wheel
She can't recall what it was like to feel
She says, “This room's gonna be my grave
And there is no one who can save me”
She sits down to her colored thread
She knows lovers waking up in their bed
She says, “How long can I live this way?
Is there no one I can pay to let me go?

'Cause I'm half sick of shadows
I wanna see the sky
Everyone else can watch as the sun goes down
So why can't I?

And it's raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind, and the wind I know it's cold
I've been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it's here, and it's here for I've been told
That I'll die before I'm old
And the wind, I know it's cold”

She looks up to the mirrored glass
She sees a handsome horse and rider pass
She says, “That man's gonna be my death
'Cause he's all I ever wanted in my life
And I know he doesn't know my name
And that all the girls are all the same to him
But still I've got to get out of this place
'Cause I don't think I can face another night

Where I'm half sick of shadows
And I can't see the sky
Everyone else can watch as the tide comes in
So why can't I?

And it's raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind, and the wind I know it's cold
I've been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it's here, and it's here for I've been told
That I'll die before I'm old
And the wind I know it's cold

But there's willow trees
And little breezes, waves, and walls and flowers
And there's moonlight every single night
As I'm locked in these towers
So I'll meet my death
But with my last breath, I'll sing to him my love
And he'll see my face in another place”
And with that the glass above

Cracked into a million bits
And she cried out, “So the story fits
But then I could have guessed it all along
'Cause now some drama queen is gonna write a song for me”
She went down to her little boat
And she broke the chain and began to float away
And as the blood froze in her veins, she said
“Well, then that explains a thing or two

'Cause I know I'm the cursed one
I know I'm meant to die
Everyone else can watch as their dreams untie
So why can't I?

And it's raining
And the stars are falling from the sky
And the wind, and the wind I know it's cold
I've been waiting
For the day I will surely die
And it's here, and it's here
And it's here, and it's here
And it's here, it's finally here

Bibliography

This is what I found and I'm current reading about The Lady of Shalott. There is a lot about the Pre-Raphaelites, the victorian society, women roles in said society, analysis of both the poems and the paintings from different perspectives, and so on.

There's a book with a chapter about The Lady of Shalott that I couldn't find online, said book is "Re-Framing the Pre-Raphaelites: Historical and Theoretical Essays" by Ellen Harding and the chapter is "Death and the Maiden: The Lady of Shalott and the Pre-Raphaelites" by Christine Poulson. I found it in Amazon, but if somenone has the pdf I will be very thankfull if they shared it so I can add it to the list.



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