BONNY DUNDEE

SIR WALTER SCOTT

[John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, supported James II of England when the Scotch Parliament had taken the part of William of Orange. In 1689 he defied the Parliament, marched out of Edinburgh with his followers, and began the long "Jacobite" rebellion.]

To the Lords of Convention 'twas Claver'se who spoke,

"Ere the King's crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke;

So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me,

Come follow the bonnet of Bonny Dundee. Come fill up my cup, come fill up my

Still when the storm of Bottreau's waves
Is wakening in his weedy caves,
Those bells, that sullen surges hide,
Peal their deep notes beneath the tide: 60
"Come to thy God in time!"
Thus saith the ocean chime:
Storm, billow, whirlwind past,
"Come to thy God at last!"

(1831)

THE LADY OF SHALOTT

ALFRED TENNYSON

[This poem is a kind of symbolic version of the story of Lancelot and Elaine (see page 160). In both versions Sir Lancelot is represented as unconsciously awakening the maiden out of the dream-life of her younger days, her love for him proving a curse because unrequited. With reference to the closing lines of Part II, Tennyson said: "The new-born love for something, for someone in the wide world from which she has been so long secluded, takes her out of the region of shadows into that of realities."]

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 thro' 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.

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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 thro' the mirror blue 60
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 thro' 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.

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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.1
The bridle bells rang merrily

As he rode down to Camelot;

And from his blazon'd baldric2 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 bearded3 meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.

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90

99

bearded. Having a tail or trail.

(1832)

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