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  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 armour 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, trailing light,

  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 flash’d into the crystal mirror,

  “Tirra lirra,” by the river

  Sang Sir Lancelot.

  She left the web, she left the loom,

  She made three paces thro’ 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.

  PART IV

  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 round about the prow she wrote

  The Lady of 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.

  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.

  Heard a carol, mournful, holy,

  Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,

  Till her blood was frozen slowly,

  And her eyes were darken’d 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 round the prow they read her name,

  The Lady of Shalott.

  Who is this? and what is here?

  And in the lighted palace near

  Died the sound of royal cheer;

  And they cross’d 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.”

  A SUMMARY OF THE POEM

  Part 1: The poem opens on a peaceful pastoral scene, with a river running through it. A well-travelled road passes through the fields and goes to Camelot. From the road, the Island of Shalott is visible in the middle of the river. A castle exists on the island, home of the Lady of Shalott. People passing on foot or on boats and barges have never seen her. Only reapers working very early in the fields hear her song and think of her as a mystery.

  Part 2: Inside the castle now, and from her perspective, we discover her in isolation from the outside world. If she stops weaving a magic web and looks down to Camelot, a curse will befall her, though she knows not what the curse is. She watches the world through a mirror, and thinks of those passing down to Camelot on the far road as shadows. She both enjoys her solitary weaving, while at the same time is also ‘half-sick’ of watching the world through mirrors.

  Part 3: One day, Sir Lancelot comes riding past. Tennyson makes much of describing him here. The Lady is captivated when she sees his image in the mirror, but only when she hears him sing, “Tirra lirra” does she look directly down to Camelot. When ‘the mirror cracked from side to side’ she knew the curse had come upon her.

  Part 4: The tone changes as she leaves the castle, finds a boat and writes her name on it. As the boat floats down to Camelot, she sings a song. She dies while singing and her boat floats into Camelot. On seeing her dead body, the people of Camelot cross themselves with fear. Lancelot says, “She has a lovely face; God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.” Lancelot’s response seems faint in comparison to the Lady’s passion toward him. It seems she had left her weaving and surrendered herself to the curse for his sake.

  ANALYSING THE POEM

  In a lot of poetry, intellectual meaning is intertwined with emotional meaning in a way not usually found in prosaic writing, which means that our emotional response to the poem, the mood it creates in us, is possibly even more likely to inspire our creativity than our intellectual response. So, consequently, we may well end up with something very different in content to the original poem. But here in our story (as with other stories in this book), we will stick quite close to the source material’s content and even narrative structure so that the reader may more easily follow the path from inspired idea through to finished story.

  The Lady of Shallot is almost 1000 words in length and its structure is divided into four parts. Part 1 and 4 are seen from the perspective of the outside world, 2 and 3 from the Lady’s perspective. Parts 1 and 2 are in the present tense, 3 and 4 in the past. In part 1, we see the world around the Lady’s tower before we start engaging with her personally. For the last part of the story, we step back again and witness the Lady’s death. There is no reason why we can’t broadly use the poem’s own sense of perspective for our story.

  The Lady of Shalott is the main character, our protagonist, but, unlike with Lancelot, we get no physical description of her and we have nothing specific about the origins of the curse. Yet her constant weaving, her mirror shadowed-world, her isolation in the tower and the curse just makes the mystery surrounding her character more intriguing. The objects that go with her are worth thinking about as possible props for our own story.

  Despite the elaborate description of Lancelot, he exhibits very little action and seems to work just as a plot device in pushing the Lady to defy the curse. His only speech at the end appears to be a throwaway line.

  The antagonist, the curse, is an abstract character, and though non-human, has a strong hand in imprisoning, controlling and punishing the Lady. The antagonist helps fuel the poem’s conflict.

  This poem has three main characters, two of whom fuel the conflict, the Lady and the curse, which in this sense at least sets it up nicely for a crossover into the short story form.

  The conflict is the battle between the curse and the Lady’s
patience and passion. For much of the poem, we have a subtle form of conflict where the Lady fights against the oppression of her confinement at the hands of the curse. It’s debatable how effective this subtle form of conflict would be in a story. Would it, on its own in the story, help raise the tension, for instance? Eventually, Lancelot’s song fuels her passion to breaking point and the curse unleashes its vengeance on her for defying it. In the last verse of part 3, the conflict rises to fever pitch and eases off only with her death. But without doubt, tension, suspense and mystery flow throughout almost the entire poem like the river itself, egged on by the lyricism and imagery.

  Is there a plot? Here is the abstract physical side: A (curse) holds B captive. When B escapes, A destroys B. This is the abstract emotional side: A holds a lonely and sometimes restless B captive. Passionately inspired by C, B escapes. But A destroys a hapless B.

  Does the poem fit within the 3 act plot arc structure? We certainly have a set-up, but the inciting incident is when on hearing Lancelot sing, the Lady reacts by defying the curse. This comes in the last verse of Part 3. Let’s stop right there. Unsurprisingly, the poem struggles to fill the parameters of the story plot arc structure. We must have our inciting incident occurring much earlier, as our own plot arc must conform to storytelling rules. It is a credit to the power of poetry that the poem successfully carries tension, suspense and mystery for so far before even providing an inciting incident.

  This poem thrives on its medieval setting. The eccentric situation of the Lady on the isolated island and the use of Camelot with all its mystical associations lend the setting an exceptional feel, though it is in most ways quite a normal environment. The river plays an important part of both the physical and psychological landscape, and gives the poem a feeling of movement even when there is none. This is our first piece of literature with such a powerful setting and it would be a shame not to make use of it for inspiration. The setting underpins the poem and our setting could do the same within our story.

  There really isn’t any irony in the poem; and so there is no twist. If we manufacture a short story with a similar content to this poem, we will have to make a greater connection between our Lady and our Lancelot character in order to create some irony and therefore have a twist.

  The poem is dramatic (exciting and emotional) but there is no drama here, no conflict involving moral choices. Our antagonist is a curse, not a person, and even as a curse is vaguely defined.

  The poem’s charm comes from its mystery and subtlety, which makes it likely that interpretations of theme will fluctuate widely. The poem’s source material suggests that unrequited love is the theme. Others believe the poem represents a psychological conflict for the contemporary artist who feels he must live in isolation so as to develop his art in a pure way against the distractions of normal life that would otherwise taint this desire for purity, but that by doing so he suffers from loneliness, the inevitable consequence of living in isolation. Certainly loneliness is one theme of the poem but it’s a vague one. Being aware of the theme from the outset is useful for controlling the expanded focus on the story as we discovered in the fable chapter, but it’s hardly an absolute necessity, especially if we shift our focus onto the plot.

  Let’s end this analysis with a comment on the poem’s powerful use of language. It may inspire us toward raising our own prosaic style, but it also has the capability of leading us astray. We may want our story to resonate, to create new nuances of emotion and deepen thought like in the poem, but we must remember that the strength of a short story comes through character and plot, which is achieved by the precise and economical use of language. A sense of mystery is fine with the story itself but not with the meaning of the language. We mustn’t end up drowning our story in a soup of powerful rhetoric which adds nothing to character and plot. And, in fact, this poem uses language in a simple and precise way to create a powerful lyricism and sense of mystery.

  HOW ABOUT A FABLE?

  The poem delivers a message to us, but it comes less through specific meaning and more through a flexible interpretation of both the intellectual and emotional response. The poem certainly seems to stimulate emotion without much consideration for the rational. However, if it is meant as an allegory then it becomes rational through its allegorical link, and we could possibly create a fable from it; for example, if the poem represents the contemporary artist wanting both to hold himself above daily life in order to heighten his artistic skills while at the same time indulge his senses as part of normal life. This is a mindset with a human flaw embedded in it that could make quite a funny fable. But our short story will move in another direction. We are working off the poem’s mystery and emotional power, which is really the strength of this poem, so a fable based on an allegorical link would be irrelevant to our aim.

  STORY PLAN

  Title: the Last Rose of Summer.

  Period: mid-1860s, post-Famine Ireland.

  Time period: the summer months.

  Setting: by the river bank, countryside.

  POV: third person limited omniscient (similar to the poem).

  Set-up

  Somewhere in the West of Ireland, a river runs down to the town on Ail Finn. We get some description of the countryside and an image of skeletons lying cold on the riverbed as a consequence of a tragedy in the recent past – the Great Famine. On one isolated bank stands a cottage. Ailish O’Carolan lives within and no one passing on the far bank’s path or on the river has seen her face for many years. At night, her harp playing can be heard in the air as far as the Bog of Tuaime where the men are working. During the day, she sits with her back to the window, looking out at the world only through a mirror so no one can see her face. She has passed her life like this for eighteen years, since all her family perished. The loneliness torments her.

  Inciting event

  One day, sitting at the window, a beautiful male voice reaches her ear from the far bank. Vivid memories flood her mind. “Father?” escapes her lips. For the first time in eighteen years, she sticks her head through the open window, but she cannot see the face of the singer. Soon she asks herself, “Had I fallen asleep and dreamt the voice? Or is it that the voice is trying to awaken me from a dream?” The singer moves away with his troupe on down to the town of Ail Finn.

  Middle point (escalating tension)

  On two more occasions, the voice carries across the river to her, which prompts her for only the second and then the third time in eighteen years to look straight out the window in the daylight hours. The second time, tears roll down her ragged cheeks as the singing moves her. The third time she glimpses the singer’s face. She sees his fine nose and full red lips and thinks of her father and her lover’s face. The young man turns to look at her and she pulls away from the window, burying her ravaged face in her hands. She plays the harp, and the man sings along to her music. How could she have imagined that two members of the O’Carolan family would ever perform together again? His voice starts to fade as he goes on the way down to Ail Finn with his friends. She starts to pace. “I have seen him grown. I have heard his song. And I am hungry for more of him.”

  Middle point: high point and darkest moment

  The weather and river are rough. She’s still pacing. The past has sprung to life through a song and broken the spell that had imprisoned her all these years. She’ll go down river and hide in the shadows by the tavern in Ail Finn to listen to his song. She flees the house, jumps in the boat and heads downstream. The current quickens on the wide bend before Ail Finn. Cross-currents catch the bows, shake and spin the boat in the fast-swirling water. She struggles to steady the boat. The water whirls faster, the boat spins faster.

  Climax

  Ailish spots the tavern’s lights on the river’s bend and above the roar of the oncoming rapids she imagines she hears his song. She reaches out with her cold hands toward the warm light.

  I will be with him soon. (Usually at this point the hero defeats all odds and is home free. But t
his is a tragedy.) The boat smashes up on a rock, flinging her overboard. Her dead body washes up on the sloping bank in front of the tavern.

  Resolution

  People come out from the tavern and see the body. A crowd gathers. A comment is made on her ravaged face, suggesting she must have never known love. A young woman defends her, “Maybe she was beautiful once. Look, her eyes are beautiful.” The young woman adds, “Why Michael! Her eyes! But, my dear, they’re your eyes.” Michael, a young man of eighteen summers, kneels, and says, “I don’t know her.” His gentle voice had brought Ailish out on such a night.

  THE STORY

  A song and a poem are used in this story. The Girl I Left Behind Me is a popular folk tune and song, dated late 18th or early 19th century. The Last Rose of Summer is a poem by the Irish poet Thomas Moore (1779 – 1852). The Last Rose of Summer is also the title of the story.

  The Last Rose of Summer

  On the east bank, green meadows divided only by lines of hedge bursting with birdsong rolled away to distant horizons. On the west bank, set a little back from the water’s edge, stood a whitewashed cottage with turf smoke spiralling out of a hole in the thatched roof. The riverside wall had two windows, one either side of the front door and a garden of red, blue, yellow and white flowers growing in front. Ivy encircled the four walls of the cottage, ivy tight as chains, holding inside the breathing shadow of Ailish O’Carolan.

  On the river, fish jumped and plopped, rippling and patterning the surface, competing with the acrobatic antics of the butterflies colouring the grasses, the reeds and the rushes. Down in the dead water, lives from the recent past lay skeletal cold and motionless in the thick mud.

  No traffic passed on the west bank. But on the bank opposite, people, animals and goods flowed up and down from north to south. Troupes of musicians stamped and danced their way along the dusty summer track to the tavern in the town of Ail Finn several miles below. Farmers on their way to market bustled and shuffled in the misty heat, crying and whistling and pushing their cattle before them, while panting dogs ran circles around men and cattle alike. And on the river, barges carrying turf and wood, boats loaded with fish and skips secreted upstream by smugglers on moonless nights, all passed by the cottage but none had ever seen the face of Ailish O’Carolan.