La Dama de Shalott llega a nosotros a través de las leyendas artúricas, transformada por Lord Tennyson en un ser féerico que mira el mundo a través de un espejo mágico y cuyo trágico fin se debe a un amor no correspondido.
El personaje en el que se basó Tennyson, Elaine de Astolat, aparece en diversas versionse de la leyenda, la más temprana de ellas originaria de principios del siglo XIII, aunque según el propio Tennyson la versión en la que se basó para su poema fue la de una novela italiana, también del siglo XIII, que llevaba por título "La Donna di Scallota"
También en "Le Morte D´Artur", de sir Thomas Malory (1485), la obra más antigua conocida sobre el ciclo artúrico, encontramos una versión de la historia de Elaine en la cual se enamora del caballero Lanzarote durante una justa que se celebra en los dominios de su padre, Bernard de Astolat. Su fin, muy similar en todas las versiones de la leyenda, es en este caso en particular el suicidio, al que Malory hace referencia eufemísticamente diciendo que murio al rompérsele el corazón. Posteriormente el cuerpo de Elaine es introducido en una barca, rumbo a Camelot, con la que llega a la corte del rey Arturo, con una nota entre sus manos que cuenta su triste historia.
Sin duda, la más romántica y mágica de las versiones (al menos en mi opinión) es la que Lord Tennyson relata en su poema, que ha servido de inspiración a numerosos artistas, especialmente a los prer-rafelitas, tales como Waterhouse, Dante Gabriel Rosetti o William Holman Hunt.
También en el ámbito musical artistas actuales como lorena McKennit o Emilie Autumn han rendido tributo a la Dama de Shalott a través de sus composiciones.
"THE LADY OF SHALOTT" de Lord Tennyson (1842)*
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And thro' the field the road runs by
To many-tower'd Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
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.
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.
By the margin, willow veil'd,
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
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?
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By slow horses; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
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?
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
Lady of Shalott."
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
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.
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;
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls
Pass onward from Shalott.
That 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.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two.
She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd lad,
Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad
Goes by to tower'd Camelot;
And sometimes through 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 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.
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.
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.
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.
The gemmy bridle glitter'd free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armor rung
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still Shalott.
Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, burning bright,
Moves over still 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.
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 through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She look'd down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd 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 tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott.
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining.
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower'd Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And around 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.
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.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' 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.
That loosely flew to left and right --
The leaves upon her falling light --
Thro' 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.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd 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.
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turn'd to tower'd 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 around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? And what is here? 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 around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
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."
* Existen dos versiones del poema, ambas escritas por Tennyson, la primera, de 1832-33 era más corta
TRADUCCIÓN:
"A ambos lados del rio descansan
amplios campos de cebada y centeno,
que visten la tierra y tocan el cielo;
Y a través de los campos se dirige el camino
a Camelot, la de las numerosas torres;
Y arriba y abajo la gente pasa,
contemplando donde se balancean los lirios
rodeando una isla alli abajo,
La isla de Shalott
El sauce palidece, tiembla el álamo,
la suave brisa cae en sombras y se estremece
a través de las olas que discurren sin cesar
a orillas de la isla, en el rio
que fuye hacia Camelot.
Cuatro muros y cuatro torres grises,
dominan un lugar lleno de flores,
y la silenciosa isla oculta
a la Dama de Shalott
Junto a la orilla, velada por los sauces
se deslizan las pesadas barcazas tiradas
por lentos caballos e ignorada
navega la chalupa con revoltosas velas de seda
surcando las aguas hacia Camelot
Pero ¿quien la ha visto agitar su mano en un saludo?
¿o asomarse al marco de la ventana?
¿Acaso es conocida en todo el reino
la Dama de Shalott?
Solo los segadores, que siegan temprano,
entre la espesura de la cebada
escuchan los vivos ecos de una canción
desde el rio sinuoso y transparente;
que baja hacia las torres de Camelot.
Y a la luz de la luna, el cansado segador
que apila las gavillas en la ventosa meseta,
Escuchando, susurra, " Es el hada,
la Dama de Shalott"
Allí teje ella día y noche
una mágica red de alegres colores
Ha escuchado un susurro que le anuncia
que una horrible maldición la aguarda
si mira hacia Camelot
Ella no sabe qué maldicion puede ser esa
asi que sigue tejiendo sin parar
y de otras pocas cosas se preocupa
la Dama de Shalott
Y moviéndose a través de un espejo cristalino
que cuelga ante ella durante todo el año
las sombras del mundo aparecen.
Allí ve el camino cercano
que serpentea hacia Camelot;
Allí giran los remolinos del rio,
y alli los hoscos patanes del pueblo,
y las capas encarnadas de las mozas del mercado
pasan de largo junto a Shalott.
A veces un grupo de alegres damiselas,
un abad tendido entre almohadones,
A veces un pastorcillo de pelo ensortijado,
o un paje de largos cabellos y capa carmesí
van hacia las torres de Camelot;
Y algunas veces, a través del espejo azulado
cabalgan de dos en dos los caballeros
No tiene un caballero leal y franco
la Dama de Shalott
Pero en su tapiz sigue deleitándose
tejiendo las mágicas visiones del espejo,
A menudo en las noches silenciosas
un funeral, con velas y penachos
y música, iba hacia Camelot;
O cuando la Luna esta en lo alto del firmamento,
llegaban dos jovenes amantes recién casados.
"Harta estoy de tinieblas" decía entonces
la Dama de Shalott
A un tiro de flecha de su alero,
cabalgaba él entre las gavillas de cebada,
el sol replandecía entre las hojas,
llameando sobre las grebas de bronce
del intrépido Ser Lanzarote.
Un caballero cruzado para siempre arrodillado
ante la dama de su escudo,
que resplancedía en el campo dorado,
cerca de la remota Shalott.
Lucía libre la engarzada brida,
cual un ramal de estrellas que vemos
colgado en la dorada Galaxia.
Sonaban alegres los cascables de las bridas
mientras cabalgaba hacia Camelot
y de su heráldico tahalí colgaba
un potente clarín todo de plata,
y a medida que cabalga su armadura repica
cerca de la remota Shalott.
Bajo el azul del cielo despejado
refulge su enjoyada montura
el yelmo y la alta pluma sobre el mismo
como una sola llama ardían juntos,
mientras él cabalga hacia Camelot.
A menudo a través de la purpurea noche
bajo las brillantes constelaciones,
un ardiente meteoro de cola brillante,
gravita sobre la apacible Shalott.
Su frente, clara y amplia, al sol resplandecía;
sobre cascos bruñidos trotaba su caballo;
Y bajo su casco flotaban
sus rizos negros cual tizones,
mientras cabalgaba hacia Camelot.
Al pasar por la orilla junto al río
apareció en el espejo de cristal,
"Tirra lirra", por el rio
cantaba Ser Lanzarote.
Ella dejó el tapiz, dejó el telar,
a tavés de la estancia dio tres pasos,
vio que el nenúfar florecía,
vio el yelmo y la pluma,
y miró hacia Camelot.
Voló lejos el tapiz y ondeó en el aire;
el espejo se rompió de lado a lado;
" La maldición ha caído sobre mi" gritó
la Dama de Shalott
Bajo el tormentoso viento del este tensándose,
los pálidos bosques amarillos empalidecieron,
las aguas lamentábanse en la orilla.
La lluvia caía de un cielo plomizo
sobre las torres de Camelot;
Ella descendió y halló una barca
bajo un sauce, flotando entre las aguas
y en torno a la proa escribió:
"La Dama de Shalott".
Y a través de la oscuridad, rio abajo
cual una audaz vidente en trance,
contemplando su propio infortunio
con turbado semblante
miró hacia Camelot.
Y al final del día
soltó la amarra, y se dejó llevar;
Muy lejos llevó la ancha corriente,
a la Dama de Shalott.
Yaciendo, cubierta de níveos ropajes
que flotaban libremente a ambos lados,
las hojas caían suavemente sobre ella,
a través de los ruidos de la noche,
flotó hacia Camelot;
Y a medida que el bote navegaba a la deriva
entre las colinas de sauces y los campos,
la oyeron cantar su última canción,
la Dama de Shalott.
Escucharon un himno, lúgubre, sacro
cantado en alto, cantado en bajo
hasta que su sangre se heló lentamente,
y sus ojos se oscurecieron totalmente,
vueltos hacia las torres de Camelot
y antes de que alcanzase la corriente
la primera casa de la orilla,
murió cantando su canción,
la Dama de Shalott.
Bajo las torres y los balcones,
junto a los muros de calles y jardines,
su forma resplandeciente pasó flotando
entre las altas casas, pálida como la muerte,
silenciosamente en Camelot.
A los muelles acudieron
caballeros y burgueses, lores y damas,
y alrededor de la proa leyeron su nombre
la Dama de Shalott.
¿Quien es ella? ¿y qué hace aquí?
Y junto al iluminado palacio
murió el sonido de los vítores reales;
y llenos de temor se santiguaron,
todos los caballeros de Camelot;
pero Lanzarote quedó un momento pensativo
y dijo, "Tiene un hermoso rostro;
Dios bendijo con su gracia
a la Dama de Shalott."