At once she slipt like water to the floor. for God's love, a little air! By the water stood the queenly Lady of Shalott. But Arthur, who beheld his cloudy brows, Approached him, and with full affection said, 'Lancelot, my Lancelot, thou in whom I have Most joy and most affiance, for I know What thou hast been in battle by my side, And many a time have watched thee at the tilt Strike down the lusty and long practised knight, And let the younger and unskilled go by To win his honour and to make his name, And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man Made to be loved; but now I would to God, Seeing the homeless trouble in thine eyes, Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, it seems, By God for thee alone, and from her face, If one may judge the living by the dead, Delicately pure and marvellously fair, Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons Born to the glory of thine name and fame, My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake.' I left her and I bad her no farewell; Though, had I dreamt the damsel would have died, I might have put my wits to some rough use, And helped her from herself.' Why go ye not to these fair jousts? I fought for it, and have it: Pleasure to have it, none; to lose it, pain; Now grown a part of me: but what use in it? Then suddenly and passionately she spoke: 'I have gone mad. There surely I shall speak for mine own self, And none of you can speak for me so well. I love you: let me die.' University of Rochester. what are they? Now for the central diamond and the last And largest, Arthur, holding then his court Hard on the river nigh the place which now Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh Spake (for she had been sick) to Guinevere, 'Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot move To these fair jousts?' 'I fain would follow love, if that could be; I needs must follow death, who calls for me; Call and I follow, I follow! Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace Beamed on his fancy, spoke, he answered not, Or short and coldly, and she knew right well What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant She knew not, and the sorrow dimmed her sight, And drave her ere her time across the fields Far into the rich city, where alone She murmured, 'Vain, in vain: it cannot be. Sir Lancelot! What might she mean by that? But, father, give me leave, an if he will, To ride to Camelot with this noble knight: Win shall I not, but do my best to win: Young as I am, yet would I do my best.' The mirror crack’d from side to side; 'Love, art thou sweet? La toile évoque le poème d’’Alfred Tennyson écrit en 1832. Yet I received untold pleasure just in the giving. University of Rochester. 'Yea, so,' she answered; 'then in wearing mine Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord, That those who know should know you.' Then the rough Torre began to heave and move, And bluster into stormy sobs and say, 'I never loved him: an I meet with him, I care not howsoever great he be, Then will I strike at him and strike him down, Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead, For this discomfort he hath done the house.' The Lady of Shalott (1888). There from his charger down he slid, and sat, Gasping to Sir Lavaine, 'Draw the lance-head:' 'Ah my sweet lord Sir Lancelot,' said Lavaine, 'I dread me, if I draw it, you will die.' And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of you Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given: His prowess was too wondrous. Lancelot And Elaine poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. While thus they babbled of the King, the King Came girt with knights: then turned the tongueless man From the half-face to the full eye, and rose And pointed to the damsel, and the doors. 'Free love, so bound, were fre st,' said the King. New York: Garland Pub., 1997. 'He learnt and warned me of their fierce design Against my house, and him they caught and maimed; But I, my sons, and little daughter fled From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods By the great river in a boatman's hut. ye shall go no more On quest of mine, seeing that ye forget Obedience is the courtesy due to kings.' Rest must you have.' When he does not return her love, she dies of grief and floats in a barge down the river to Camelot. Pp. Another sinning on such heights with one, The flower of all the west and all the world, Had been the sleeker for it: but in him His mood was often like a fiend, and rose And drove him into wastes and solitudes For agony, who was yet a living soul. Then was Sir Lancelot sent for, and the letter read aloud by a clerk. She saw the water-lily bloom, Web. And a clene maydyn I dyed, I take God to wytnesse. Then will I bear it gladly;' she replied, 'For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world, But I myself must bear it.' Allow him! Most noble Lord, now death has parted us. So spake Lavaine, and when they reached the lists By Camelot in the meadow, let his eyes Run through the peopled gallery which half round Lay like a rainbow fallen upon the grass, Until they found the clear-faced King, who sat Robed in red samite, easily to be known, Since to his crown the golden dragon clung, And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold, And from the carven-work behind him crept Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them Through knots and loops and folds innumerable Fled ever through the woodwork, till they found The new design wherein they lost themselves, Yet with all ease, so tender was the work: And, in the costly canopy o'er him set, Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. And now to right she turned, and now to left, And found no ease in turning or in rest; And 'Him or death,' she muttered, 'death or him,' Again and like a burthen, 'Him or death.' 'Wherefore, let me hence,' She answered, 'and find out our dear Lavaine.' 'So be it,' cried Elaine, And lifted her fair face and moved away: But he pursued her, calling, 'Stay a little! All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge... Recite this poem (upload your own video or voice file). But the wild Queen, who saw not, burst away To weep and wail in secret; and the barge, On to the palace-doorway sliding, paused. Thither he made, and blew the gateway horn. And, damsel, for I deem you know full well Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave My quest with you; the diamond also: here! She saw the helmet and the plume,    Trans. We will do him No customary honour: since the knight Came not to us, of us to claim the prize, Ourselves will send it after.   L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables (1908) pokes fun at the popularity of both the Tennyson poems and the artistic renderings of lovely Elaine in her barge when Anne decides to act out Elaine’s watery journey and ends up feeling wet and uncomfortable rather than romantic. “If I Die Young.” Dir. Elaine fuit la tour. Not for me! “Those days, she said, were so much more romantic than the present” (320). “Lancelot and Elaine.” On The Camelot Project. 'Ye will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine: Bide,' answered he: 'we needs must hear anon Of him, and of that other.' Out flew the web and floated wide;  He wore, against his wont, upon his helm A sleeve of scarlet, broidered with great pearls, Some gentle maiden's gift.' Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife, Should have in it an absoluter trust To make up that defect: let rumours be: When did not rumours fly? Him have I seen: the rest, his Table Round, Known as they are, to me they are unknown.' that true man!' He left it with her, when he rode to tilt For the great diamond in the diamond jousts, Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. But when the maid had told him all her tale, Then turned Sir Torre, and being in his moods Left them, and under the strange-statued gate, Where Arthur's wars were rendered mystically, Past up the still rich city to his kin, His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot; And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove Led to the caves: there first she saw the casque Of Lancelot on the wall: her scarlet sleeve, Though carved and cut, and half the pearls away, Streamed from it still; and in her heart she laughed, Because he had not loosed it from his helm, But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. And Lancelot marvelled at the wordless man; And issuing found the Lord of Astolat With two strong sons, Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, Moving to meet him in the castle court; And close behind them stept the lily maid Elaine, his daughter: mother of the house There was not: some light jest among them rose With laughter dying down as the great knight Approached them: then the Lord of Astolat: 'Whence comes thou, my guest, and by what name Livest thou between the lips? But far away the maid in Astolat, Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her heart, Crept to her father, while he mused alone, Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said, 'Father, you call me wilful, and the fault Is yours who let me have my will, and now, Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits?' Film. How came the lily maid by that good shield Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name? Anne studies Tennyson’s poem in school, and wishes she had lived in Camelot. And pray for my soul, sir Launcelot, as you are without peer. And I was your lover, that men called the Fair Maiden of Astolat. First in fear, step after step, she stole Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating: Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 'This shield, my friend, where is it?' For her! Thus he read; And ever in the reading, lords and dames Wept, looking often from his face who read To hers which lay so silent, and at times, So touched were they, half-thinking that her lips, Who had devised the letter, moved again. Stanzaic Morte Arthur. And so, God wot, his shield is blank enough. the father answered, echoing 'highest?' And I must die for want of one bold word.' He loves it in his knights more than himself: They prove to him his work: win and return.' Only ye would not pass beyond the cape That has the poplar on it: there ye fixt Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 'Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away, Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. Pp. He will not love me: how then? And when the shield was brought, and Gawain saw Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crowned with gold, Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh, and mocked: 'Right was the King! 'Nay, by mine head,' said he, 'I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes; But an ye will it let me see the shield.' And the Queen Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. Then answered Sir Lancelot, the chief of knights: 'Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, and known, What I by mere mischance have brought, my shield. An end to this! And therefore to our Lady Guinevere, And to all other ladies, I make moan: Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. So feared the King, And, after two days' tarriance there, returned. Web. What is he? The seldom-frowning King frowned, and replied, 'Too courteous truly! [Most noble knight, my lord sir Launcelot, now death has made the two of us in opposition because of your love. < http://d.lib.rochester.edu/camelot/text/tennyson-lancelot-and-elaine>. 'Heaven hinder,' said the King, 'that such an one, So great a knight as we have seen today-- He seemed to me another Lancelot-- Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot-- He must not pass uncared for. To loyal hearts the value of all gifts Must vary as the giver's. Therefore unto all ladies I make my complaint, yet pray for my soul and bury me at least, and offer my mass-penny: this is my last request. I pray you, use some rough discourtesy To blunt or break her passion.' But when they left her to herself again, Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field Approaching through the darkness, called; the owls Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms Of evening, and the moanings of the wind. Well-known versions of her story appear in Sir Thomas Malory's 1485 book Le Morte d'Arthur, Alfred, Lord Tennyson's mid-19th-century Idylls of the King, and Tennyson's poem "The Lady of Shalott". Her wide eyes fix'd on Camelot, Though the squally east-wind keenly . He amazed, 'Torre and Elaine! The Lady of Shalott Floating Toward Camelot. Then as a little helpless innocent bird, That has but one plain passage of few notes, Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er For all an April morning, till the ear Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid Went half the night repeating, 'Must I die?' till back the maiden fell, Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay, Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes. his large black eyes, Yet larger through his leanness, dwelt upon her, Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself In the heart's colours on her simple face; And Lancelot looked and was perplext in mind, And being weak in body said no more; But did not love the colour; woman's love, Save one, he not regarded, and so turned Sighing, and feigned a sleep until he slept. Full simple was her answer, 'What know I? When I gave you my love, I did so fully and faithfully. A strange one! All ears were pricked at once, all tongues were loosed: 'The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat.' So toward that shrine which then in all the realm Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly went The marshalled Order of their Table Round, And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see The maiden buried, not as one unknown, Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies, And mass, and rolling music, like a queen. At last she said, 'Sweet brothers, yesternight I seemed a curious little maid again, As happy as when we dwelt among the woods, And when ye used to take me with the flood Up the great river in the boatman's boat. He never spake word of reproach to me, He never had a glimpse of mine untruth, He cares not for me: only here today There gleamed a vague suspicion in his eyes: Some meddling rogue has tampered with him--else Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, And swearing men to vows impossible, To make them like himself: but, friend, to me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth; The low sun makes the colour: I am yours, Not Arthur's, as ye know, save by the bond. The charm is broken utterly, And a pure maiden I died, I take God to witness. Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, Inspired by the 13th-century short prose text Donna di Scalotta, it tells the tragic story of Elaine of Astolat, a young noblewoman imprisoned in a tower up the river from Camelot. Draw near and fear not – this is I, Read poems about / on: father, farewell, death, sick, horse, love, child, brother, sister, rose, passion, friend, flower, lost, river, house, city, fear, work, believe, Lancelot And Elaine Poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson - Poem Hunter, Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004. for the King, However mild he seems at home, nor cares For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts-- For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs Saying, his knights are better men than he-- Yet in this heathen war the fire of God Fills him: I never saw his like: there lives No greater leader.' but if I would not, then may God, I pray him, send a sudden Angel down To seize me by the hair and bear me far, And fling me deep in that forgotten mere, Among the tumbled fragments of the hills.' To whom the Lord of Astolat, 'Bide with us, And ride no more at random, noble Prince! And I was youre lover, that men called the Fayre Maydyn of Astolate. 'Yea,' said the Queen, 'A moral child without the craft to rule, Else had he not lost me: but listen to me, If I must find you wit: we hear it said That men go down before your spear at a touch, But knowing you are Lancelot; your great name, This conquers: hide it therefore; go unknown: Win! 'I knew it,' she said. Therefore unto all ladyes I make my mone, yet for my soule ye pray and bury me at the leste, and offir ye my masse-peny: thys ys my laste requeste. 91-160. While he spoke She neither blushed nor shook, but deathly-pale Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied: 'Of all this will I nothing;' and so fell, And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. (641), McKennitt, Loreena. Such sin in words Perchance, we both can pardon: but, my Queen, I hear of rumours flying through your court. 'O there, great lord, doubtless,' Lavaine said, rapt By all the sweet and sudden passion of youth Toward greatness in its elder, 'you have fought. David McClister. Then replied the King: 'Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been, In lieu of idly dallying with the truth, To have trusted me as he hath trusted thee. In letters gold and azure!’ (1328-34), ‘My time draweth near, for even now I behold the shining gates of Paradise, though it yet is that I behold them faintly, as through a vapor of mist. Nevertheless, I shall leave behind me this child who lieth beside me, and his life shall enlighten that world from which I am withdrawing.’ (331). Till rathe she rose, half-cheated in the thought She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. Her final assessment of the situation is pretty clear: “‘I don’t ever want to hear the word ‘romantic’ again’” (328). How know ye my lord's name is Lancelot?' High with the last line scaled her voice, and this, All in a fiery dawning wild with wind That shook her tower, the brothers heard, and thought With shuddering, 'Hark the Phantom of the house That ever shrieks before a death,' and called The father, and all three in hurry and fear Ran to her, and lo! of The Idylls of the King, by Alfred Lord Tennyson. There morn by morn, arraying her sweet self In that wherein she deemed she looked her best, She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought 'If I be loved, these are my festal robes, If not, the victim's flowers before he fall.' Thence to the court he past; there told the King What the King knew, 'Sir Lancelot is the knight.' And Lavaine gaped upon him As on a thing miraculous, and anon The trumpets blew; and then did either side, They that assailed, and they that held the lists, Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move, Meet in the midst, and there so furiously Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive, If any man that day were left afield, The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. For all true hearts be blazoned on her tomb Rev. 'Then will ye miss,' he answered, 'the great deeds Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the lists, A sight ye love to look on.' Disney-ABC Domestic Television, 2010. © Poems are the property of their respective owners. 'But parted from the jousts Hurt in the side,' whereat she caught her breath; Through her own side she felt the sharp lance go; Thereon she smote her hand: wellnigh she swooned: And, while he gazed wonderingly at her, came The Lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince Reported who he was, and on what quest Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find The victor, but had ridden a random round To seek him, and had wearied of the search. Oil on canvas. Meanwhile the new companions past away Far o'er the long backs of the bushless downs, To where Sir Lancelot knew there lived a knight Not far from Camelot, now for forty years A hermit, who had prayed, laboured and prayed, And ever labouring had scooped himself In the white rock a chapel and a hall On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave, And cells and chambers: all were fair and dry; The green light from the meadows underneath Struck up and lived along the milky roofs; And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees And poplars made a noise of falling showers. Torre and Lavaine Bid Farewell to the Body of... "She stayed near it all day long in the turret", Elaine Ties Her Sleeve Round Sir Lancelot's Helmet. 'And if I dreamed,' said Gawain, 'that you love This greatest knight, your pardon! Hence will I, and I charge you, follow me not.' Ed. Then answered Lancelot, the chief of knights: 'And with what face, after my pretext made, Shall I appear, O Queen, at Camelot, I Before a King who honours his own word, As if it were his God's?' Is it not Lancelot?' I do not mean the force alone-- The grace and versatility of the man! The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound, My father, to be sweet and serviceable To noble knights in sickness, as ye know When these have worn their tokens: let me hence I pray you.' To make men worse by making my sin known? Then of the crowd ye took no more account Than of the myriad cricket of the mead, When its own voice clings to each blade of grass, And every voice is nothing. New York: Harper Collins, 2006. Then she, who held her eyes upon the ground, Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, Flushed slightly at the slight disparagement Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her, Full courtly, yet not falsely, thus returned: 'If what is fair be but for what is fair, And only queens are to be counted so, Rash were my judgment then, who deem this maid Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth, Not violating the bond of like to like.' And all night long his face before her lived, As when a painter, poring on a face, Divinely through all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest; so the face before her lived, Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full Of noble things, and held her from her sleep.

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