Oh! deathful stabs were dealt apace, The battle deepen'd in its place, Oriana; But I was down upon my face, Oriana. CIRCUMSTANCE. Two children in two neighbor villages Playing mad pranks along the heathy leas; Two strangers meeting at a festival; They should have stabb'd me where I lay, Two lovers whispering by an orchard wall; Oriana! Two lives bound fast in one with golden Neither moon nor star. We would call aloud in the dreamy dells, Call to each other and whoop and cry All night, merrily, merrily; They would pelt me with starry spangles and shells, Laughing and clapping their hands between, All night, merrily, merrily: But I would throw to them back in mine Turkis and agate and almondine : O, what a happy life were mine Till that great sea-snake under the sea From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps Would slowly trail himself sevenfold Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate With his large calm eyes for the love of me. And all the mermen under the sea Would feel their immortality Die in their hearts for the love of me. III. But at night I would wander away, away, I would fling on each side my lowflowing locks, And lightly vault from the throne and play With the mermen in and out of the rocks; We would run to and fro, and hide and seek, On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells, Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea. But if any came near I would call, and shriek, And adown the steep like a wave I would leap From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells; For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list, Of the bold merry mermen under the sea; They would sue me, and woo Ine, and flatter me, In the purple twilights under the sea; Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea, All looking down for the love of me. Our dusted velvets have much need of The humming of the drowsy pulpit-drone Half God's good sabbath, while the wornout clerk thee: Thou art no sabbath-drawler of old saws, Distill'd from some worm canker'd homily; But spurr'd at heart with fieriest energy To embattail and to wall about thy cause With iron-worded proof, hating to hark Brow-beats his desk below. Thou from a throne Mounted in heaven wilt shoot into the dark Arrows of lightnings. I will stand and mark. POEMS. (PUBLISHED 1832.) 'This division of this volume was published in the winter of 1832. Some of the poems have been considerably altered. Others have been added, which, with one exception, were written in 1833.] THE LADY OF SHALOTT. PART I. ON either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, To many-tower'd Camelot ; The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Flowing down to Camelot. By the margin, willow-veil'd, Skimming down to Camelot : Only reapers, reaping early Hear a song that echoes cheerly Down to tower'd 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 To look down to Camelot. And moving thro' a mirror clear Winding down to Camelot. Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, The knights come riding two and two : But in her web she still delights And music, went to Camelot : PART III. A BOW-SHOT from her bower-eaves, A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, As he rode down to Camelot : She saw the water-lily bloom, She look'd down to Camelot. PART IV. IN the stormy east-wind straining, Heavily the low sky raining Over tower'd Camelot ; Down she came and found a boat And down the river's dim expanse Did she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the day Lying, robed in snowy white She floated down to Camelot : Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot : The Lady of Shalott. |