Loreena McKennitt - The Lady of Shalott

Simply beautiful!

"The Lady Of Shalott"On either side of the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the world and meet the sky;And thro' the field the road run byTo many-towered Camelot;And up and down the people go,Gazing where the lilies blowRound an island there below,The island of Shalott.Willows whiten, aspens quiver,Little breezes dusk and shiverThro' the wave that runs for everBy the island in the riverFlowing down to Camelot.Four grey walls, and four grey towers,Overlook a space of flowers,And the silent isle imbowersThe Lady of Shalott.Only reapers, reaping early,In among the bearded barleyHear a song that echoes cheerlyFrom the river winding clearlyDown to tower'd Camelot;And by the moon the reaper weary,Piling sheaves in uplands airy,Listening, whispers "'tis the fairyThe Lady of Shalott."There she weaves by night and dayA magic web with colours gay,She has heard a whisper say,A curse is on her if she stayTo 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 clearThat hangs before her all the year,Shadows of the world appear.There she sees the highway nearWinding down to Camelot;And sometimes thro' the mirror blueThe Knights come riding two and two.She hath no loyal Knight and true,The Lady Of Shalott.But in her web she still delightsTo weave the mirror's magic sights,For often thro' the silent nightsA funeral, with plumes and lightsAnd music, went to Camelot;Or when the Moon was overhead,Came two young lovers lately wed."I am half sick of shadows," saidThe 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 greavesOf bold Sir Lancelot.A red-cross knight for ever kneel'dTo 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'dHis coal-black curls as on he rode,As he rode back to Camelot.From the bank and from the riverHe flashed into the crystal mirror,"Tirra Lirra," by the riverSang Sir Lancelot.She left the web, she left the loom,She made three paces taro' 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," criedThe 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 rainingOver towered Camelot;Down she came and found a boatBeneath a willow left afloat,And round about the prow she wroteThe Lady of ShalottAnd down the river's dim expanseLike some bold seer in a trance,Seeing all his own mischance -With a glassy countenanceDid she look to Camelot.And at the closing of the dayShe 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 tideThe 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 nearDied the sound of royal cheer;And they crossed themselves for fear,All the Knights at Camelot;But Lancelot mused a little spaceHe said, "She has a lovely face;God in his mercy lend her grace,The Lady of Shalott."poem written by Alfred Lord Tennyson in 1842, interpreted by Loreena Isabel Irene McKennitt (born February 17, 1957). She is a Canadian musician, composer, harpist, accordionist, and pianist who writes, records and performs world music with Celtic and Middle Eastern themes. Loreena is known for her refined and clear dramatic soprano vocals. She has sold more than 14 million records worldwide.

Echoes of the heart... and summoned be our SOUL... the Spirit, the Omnipresence, the Union, the Love.

Heard/read this for the first time in 1994 in AP English. I have loved it ever since.

On either side of the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the world and meet the sky;And thro' the field the road run byTo many-towered Camelot;And up and down the people go,Gazing where the lilies blowRound an island there below,The island of Shalott.Willows whiten, aspens quiver,Little breezes dusk and shiverThro' the wave that runs for everBy the island in the riverFlowing down to Camelot.Four grey walls, and four grey towers,Overlook a space of flowers,And the silent isle imbowersThe Lady of Shalott.Only reapers, reaping early,In among the bearded barleyHear a song that echoes cheerlyFrom the river winding clearlyDown to tower'd Camelot; And by the moon the reaper weary,Piling sheaves in uplands airy,Listening, whispers "'tis the fairyThe Lady of Shalott."There she weaves by night and dayA magic web with colours gay,She has heard a whisper say,A curse is on her if she stayTo 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 clearThat hangs before her all the year,Shadows of the world appear.There she sees the highway nearWinding down to Camelot;And sometimes thro' the mirror blueThe Knights come riding two and two.She hath no loyal Knight and true,The Lady Of Shalott.But in her web she still delightsTo weave the mirror's magic sights,For often thro' the silent nightsA funeral, with plumes and lightsAnd music, went to Camelot;Or when the Moon was overhead,Came two young lovers lately wed."I am half sick of shadows, " saidThe 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 greavesOf bold Sir Lancelot.A red-cross knight for ever kneel'dTo 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'dHis coal-black curls as on he rode,As he rode back to Camelot.From the bank and from the riverhe flashed into the crystal mirror,"Tirra Lirra, " by the riverSang Sir Lancelot.She left the web, she left the loom,She made three paces taro' 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, " criedThe 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 rainingOver towered Camelot;Down she came and found a boatBeneath a willow left afloat,And round about the prow she wroteThe Lady of ShalottAnd down the river's dim expanseLike some bold seer in a trance,Seeing all his own mischance - With a glassy countenanceDid she look to Camelot.And at the closing of the dayShe 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 tideThe 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 nearDied the sound of royal cheer;And they crossed themselves for fear,All the Knights at Camelot;But Lancelot mused a little spaceHe said, "She has a lovely face;God in his mercy lend her grace,The Lady of Shalott."

Thanks 4 sharing the lyrics !

♪♫♥ ;)

I first heard this melody when I saw the movie Leolo... it’s haunted me ever since! This is beautiful!

me too! Leolo was such a beautiful movie and great soundtrack!

transcription from Tennyson. She is remarkable; a bit like Steve Jobs; does everything herself, I mean EVERYTHING. Beautiful music; this one hurt me as it should because I was in love with someone I had no business entertaining emotions like that; he was my friend. Wonderful song.

Mike Knispel ....Kurd it is beautifully haunting, it’s beautiful and melancholy melody bringing me to tears

The Lady Of Shalott is a poem...My favourite poem - it's written by ALFRED LORD TENNYSON in 1842... It is not a fucking folk ballad...  It has been superbly put to music by the very talented Loreena McKennitt.

It's Alfred Tennyson you muppet

Eeeeeeeeehhh....., if Tennyson were alive today he'd turn in his grave, not because of Lorena's interpretation of his poem - I think he'd quite enjoy that - but that anyone should call it a folk ballad, and not even give him credit for it.

@EnosEverything love your swearing here and waking people up. yes, someone wrote folk ballad in there when posting that masterpiece.nothing wrong with correcting that.

@JonathonHart 666 might be so

@Ludmilla Bikechain thankyou Ludmilla... Pains me when people just can't call a spade a spade... They have to add so much unnecessary tosh to a statement that is so pure in the first place.

Truly beautiful song.

Beautiful

Most brilliant song and voice a classic thank you I have enjoyed this song for many many years