Lady of Shalott

Lady of Shalott

Lady de Shalott Lady de Shalott é uma história onde a paixão pela vida evoca a morte. A pobre Lady é amaldiçoada a nunca poder olhar diretamente para fora de sua janela. Ela podia, contudo, ver o mundo através de um espelho. Destinada a passar sua vida longe da humanidade, ela imagina as imagens que vê no seu espelho o dia todo.
De dentro do quarto, ela vê as “sombras do mundo”.
Quando o belo cavaleiro Sir Lancelot passa pela janela de Shalott, ela sente algo avassalador. Apaixonada, esquece da sua maldição e olha diretamente para Camelot, e tem uma rápida visão de Lancelot. O espelho racha e a desgraça cai sobre ela. Lady de Shalott vai para o rio e encontra um barco. Ela solta a embarcação e desce a correnteza. Enquanto ela desce o rio em direção a Camelot, ela canta uma canção. Seu sangue vai congelando e leva a moça a uma triste morte. O barco encontra seu caminho pelas margens de Camelot, que são tomadas pelos curiosos. Eles vêem que seu nome está escrito na frente do barco. No meio da multidão, está Sir Lancelot. Sem saber o que tinha acontecido, Lancelot olha para ela e diz "Ela tem um amável rosto, Deus na sua piedade dá-lhe a graça, a Lady de Shalott".

Essa é uma história de amor sofrido com um final trágico. Muitas foram as histórias que terminaram inesperadamente, seja por causa da classe social, seja pela inveja ou pelo ódio. Nos dias atuais o amor também sofre essas influências, mas acaba com a separação de corpos e raramente com a morte.

Abaixo segue a letra de uma música que adoro imensamente.

Loreena McKennitt - The Lady Of Shalott

On either side of the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

And thro' the field the road run by

To many-towered Camelot;

And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies flow

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 grey walls, and four grey towers,

Overlook a space of flowers,

And the silent isle embowers

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."

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;

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.

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.

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.

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 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 seer 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.

Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

Till her blood was frozen slowly,

And her eyes were darkened wholly,

Turn'd to towered 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 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."

Por Bruxinhachellot.