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 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.
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 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.”
Tradução de Renata Cordeiro:
De ambos os lados do rio há
Grandes campos de cevada e de centeio
Que cobrem a planície e alcançam o céu
E em meio ao campo há uma estrada
Para a Camelot de muitas torres
As pessoas vão para cima e para baixo
Contemplando os lírios que flutuam
Há uma ilha mais abaixo
A ilha de Shalott
Salgueiros embranquecem álamos tremem
Ligeiras brisas crepúsculo e calafrio
As águas correm eternamente
Pela ilha no rio
Que desemboca em Camelot
Quatro paredes cinzentas e quatro torres cinzentas
Num espaço de flores
A ilha silenciosa cobre com sombras
Lady de Shalott
Só há camponeses que trabalham cedo
Por entre a cevada a ser ceifada
Ecoa a suave canção alegremente
Que vem do rio onde venta
Até a elevada Camelot
E ao luar o ceifeiro cansado
Empilhando maços em grandes amontoados
Escuta e sussurra "esta é fada"
Lady de Shalott
Na torre ela tece dia e noite
Uma teia mágica com cores vistosas
Mas ouve um sussurro que diz
Que a maldição cairá sobre ela se continuar
Olhando para baixo, para Camelot
Não sabe que a maldição é essa
E assim tece continuamente
E pouco cuidado tem ela
Lady de Shalott
Mirando-se num espelho cristalino
Que fica à sua frente o ano todo
Sombras do mundo aparecem
Através do espelho ela vê a estrada
Vê o vento soprar sobre Camelot
E às vezes através do espelho
Vê os cavaleiros trotarem aos pares
Ela não tem cavaleiro leal e verdadeiro
Lady de Shalott
Mesmo tecendo ela contempla
As mágicas visões do espelho
Muitas vezes pelas noites silenciosas
Vê um funeral com pompas e luzes
E a música volta-se para Camelot
E quando a Lua brilha no alto
Dois jovens amantes enfim se casam
"Estou meio farta de sombras" diz
Lady de Shalott
Vê da sua torre numa disparada
Um cavalo entre os maços de cevada
O sol arde ofuscando as folhas
E queima as canelas despudoradas
Do ousado Sir Lancelot
É um cavaleiro que eternamente se ajoelha
Para uma senhora em seu escudo,
Que brilha no campo amarelo
Ao lado da remota Shalott
Seus olhos claros brilharam à luz do sol
Com cascos polidos seu cavalo de guerra trilhou
Debaixo do elmo esvoaçavam da cor do carvão
Seus cachos negros enquanto cavalgava
À medida que ia para Camelot
Na margem do rio
Ele apareceu no espelho cristalino
"Tirra lirra"
Cantou Sir Lancelot
Ela parou de tecer largou o tear
Deu três passos pelo quarto
Viu o lírio na água florescer
Viu o elmo e a plumagem
E se voltou para Camelot
Voou o tear flutuando ao longe
O espelho se quebrou ao meio
"A maldição caiu sobre mim"
Chorou Lady de Shalott
O tempestuoso vento leste uivava
Os bosques amarelos empalideciam
Nas margens do rio as ondas se revolviam
Do céu desabou a chuva fortemente
Sobre a dominada Camelot
Ela desceu e encontrou um barco
Debaixo de um flutuante salgueiro partido
E na proa deixou escrito
Lady de Shalott
Descendo o extenso e turvo rio
Como algum vidente em transe
Vendo toda a sua miséria
Com o rosto paralisado
Ela olhou para Camelot
E ao fim do dia
Soltou as correntes e se deitou
O amplo rio levou para longe
Lady de Shalott
Ouvindo um hino pesaroso sagrado
Muito alto cantou com voz humilde
E o sangue começou a congelar
Os seus olhos ficaram escuros
Voltados para a elevada Camelot
Antes que com a maré alcançasse
A primeira casa da costa
Ainda cantando morreu
Lady de Shalott
Sob a torre e a sacada
Do muro do jardim e do balcão
Qual vulto cintilante ela flutuou
Pálida morta entre altas casas
O silêncio pairou em Camelot
Ao distante cais todos acorreram
Cavaleiro e burguês lorde e dama
E em volta da proa o seu nome leram
"Lady de Shalott"
Quem é esta? O que faz aqui?
Ali perto ficava o palácio iluminado
E nele cessou o som da real celebração
Os bravos homens tiveram medo
Todos os Cavaleiros de Camelot
Mas Lancelot refletiu por um tempo
E disse "que rosto lindo!
Deus misericordioso, abençoai
Lady de Shalott!"
(Ilustração: John William Waterhouse - Lady of Shalott)
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