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. 'I am half sick of shadows,' said Or when the moon was overhead 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? To weave the mirror’s magic sights, The bridle bells rang merrily     As he rode down to Camelot:And from his blazoned baldric slungA mighty silver bugle hung,And as he rode his armour rung,     Beside remote Shalott. The frame of the loom and the geometric tiles of the floor lead the viewer into the room, where reds, yellows and blues echo the more vivid colours outside. 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. In the painting, the mirror reveals a bridge over a river leading to the walls and towers of Camelot; also visible nearby are a man and a woman, perhaps the "two young lovers lately wed" referred to in Tennyson's poem. It was owned by Mr and Mrs Frederick Cowan, and inherited by their great-niece, the wife of Canadian engineer Philip Berney Jackson, who donated to the Art Gallery of Ontario in 1971. 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. 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. Who is this?

For ere she reached upon the tideThe first house by the water-side,Singing in her song she died,     The Lady of Shalott. [1] It is the third painting by Waterhouse that depicts a scene from the Tennyson poem, "The Lady of Shalott". The scene is set shortly before an image of Lancelot appears in the mirror, enticing the Lady out of her tower to her death. This painting depicts an earlier point in the tale of the Lady of Shalott than those depicted by Waterhouse in his previous two works of 1888 and 1894; the Lady is still confined in her tower, weaving a tapestry, viewing the world outside only through the reflection in the large mirror in the background. I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Said the Lady of Shalott is a painting by John William Waterhouse completed in 1915. The painting was exhibited at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition in 1916. Only reapers, reaping early In among the bearded barley,Hear a song that echoes cheerlyFrom 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.". A single poppy can be seen reflected in the mirror. Part III. Came two young lovers lately wed; © Academy of American Poets, 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038. A red-cross knight for ever kneeled To a … It is the third painting by Waterhouse that depicts a scene from the Tennyson poem, "The Lady of Shalott".   And music, came from Camelot: The sun came dazzling through the leaves.

As often through the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light,     Moves over still 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. 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. The shuttles of the loom resemble boats, foreshadowing the Lady's death. The lady wears a red dress, in a room with Romanesque columns holding up the arches of the window reflected in the mirror. The title of the painting is a quotation from the last two lines in the fourth and final verse of the second part of Tennyson's poem: But in her web she still delights 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. And moving through a mirror clearThat 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. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror,"Tirra lirra," by the river      Sang Sir Lancelot. All in the blue unclouded weatherThick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,The helmet and the helmet-feather Burned like one burning flame together,     As he rode down to Camelot. Born in 1809, Alfred Lord Tennyson is one of the most well-loved Victorian poets. The painting shows the Lady of Shalott resting from her weaving.[2]. Lying, robed in snowy whiteThat 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. "I am half sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott.   The Lady of Shalott. The title of the painting is a quotation from the last two lines in the fourth and final verse of the second part of Tennyson's poem: 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. Quote by Alfred Lord Tennyson: “I am half-sick of shadows,' said The Lady of Sh...”. The Lady of Shalott, 1888Tate Britain, London, The Lady of Shalott Looking at Lancelot, 1894Leeds City Art Gallery, I am Half-Sick of Shadows, said the Lady of Shalott, "I am Half-Sick of Shadows, said the Lady of Shalott", The Unwelcome Companion: A Street Scene in Cairo, I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Said the Lady of Shalott, Louisa Beresford, Marchioness of Waterford, A Converted British Family Sheltering a Christian Missionary from the Persecution of the Druids, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=I_Am_Half-Sick_of_Shadows,_Said_the_Lady_of_Shalott&oldid=980403767, Collections of the Art Gallery of Ontario, Paintings based on works by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License, This page was last edited on 26 September 2020, at 10:11. The gemmy bridle glittered free,Like to some branch of stars we seeHung in the golden Galaxy. And in the lighted palace nearDied 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.". 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 boatBeneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote     The Lady of Shalott. It was sold from the estate of the accountant John George Griffiths CVO at Hampton's in 1923 for 300 guineas, and passed through the hands of the art dealer Arthur de Casseres.
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. and what is here? For often thro’ the silent nights

I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Said the Lady of Shalott is a painting by John William Waterhouse completed in 1915. A funeral, with plumes and lights

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 blueThe knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true,     The Lady of Shalott. The broad stream in his banks complaining, In Memoriam, [To Sleep I give my powers away].
She knows not what the curse may be,And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she,      The Lady of Shalott. 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. On either side the river lieLong 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.