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Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
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It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole1 Unequal laws2 unto a savage race, |
1measure and give out 2rewards and punishments | |
| (5) |
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I
cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees3. All times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when |
3sediment that settles
during fermentation, especially in wine
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| (10) |
Through scudding drifts4 the rainy Hyades5 Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known-- cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, |
4driving showers of spray and rain5group of stars whose rising was assumed to be followed by rain. |
| (15) |
Myself not least, but honoured of them all-- And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy, I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough |
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| (20) |
Gleams that untraveled world, whose margin fades Forever and forever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life! Life piled on life |
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| (25) |
Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, |
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| (30) |
And this grey spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle6 — |
6Ithaca, an island off the coast of Greece. |
| (35) |
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labour, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere |
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| (40) |
Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet7 adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: |
7appropriate |
| (45) |
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me-- That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads-- you and I are old; |
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| (50) |
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; |
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| (55) |
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds |
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| (60) |
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars8, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles9, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. |
8the outer ocean or river that, in Greek cosmology, surrounded the flat circle of the earth and into which the stars descended.9the Islands of the Blessed: in classical mythology, the place heroes went after death. |
| (65) |
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are-- One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will |
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| (70) | To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. |
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The Lady of Shalott by Alfred, Lord Tennyson |
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Part I On either side the river lie |
1rolling plain | |
| (5) |
To many-tower'd Camelot2; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow3 Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. |
2legendary English town where King
Arthur had his court and Round Table 3bloom |
| (10) |
Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro' the wave that runs forever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. |
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| (15) |
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, |
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| (20) |
Slide the heavy barges trail'd By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop4 flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? |
4light open boat |
| (25) |
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, |
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| (30) |
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, |
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| (35) |
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy Lady of Shalott." Part II There she weaves by night and dayA magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, |
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| (40) |
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, |
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| (45) |
The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror5 clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near |
5weavers used mirrors in front of their looms, so that they could view the progress of their work. |
| (50) |
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. |
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| (55) |
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad6, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot; |
6easy-paced horse |
| (60) |
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 |
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| (65) |
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, |
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| (70) |
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, |
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| (75) |
The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves7 Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight8 for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, |
7armor protecting the leg below the
knee 8refers to the Redcrosse Knight from the Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser. The knight is a symbol of holiness. |
| (80) |
That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. The gemmy9 bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see Hung in the golden Galaxy. |
9jeweled |
| (85) |
The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot; And from his blazon'd baldric10 slung A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, |
10decorated sash worn diagonally across the chest. |
| (90) |
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, |
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| (95) |
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. |
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| (100) |
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. |
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| (105) |
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, |
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| (110) |
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; |
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| (115) |
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, |
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| (120) |
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, |
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| (125) |
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-- |
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| (130) |
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, |
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| (135) |
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 |
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| (140) |
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. |
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| (145) |
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. |
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| (150) |
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, |
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| (155) |
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, |
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| (160) |
Knight and burgher11, 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 |
11middle class citizen |
| (165) |
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; |
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| (170) |
God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott." |