28.12.07

The following poem, a sequel to Tennyson's 'Lady of Shalot' is my exercise in discipline. Using the same rhyme scheme and the same number of stanzas, in order to bring the story to a more satisfying conclusion.

I submitted it several years ago to The Daily Telegraph's poetry competition, but it was rejected. Finding it the other day - I still think it good enough for more readers rather than for my eyes alone. Also, no repetition of rhyme.

 

SEQUEL

King Arthur & Queen Guenivere
with all the sad knights gathered there
for that strange lady did prepare
a richly ornamented bier
in many towered Camelot.
"Your majesty", the bishop cried
"We know not how the lady died.
Mayhap her death was suicide.
The Lady of Shalot".

A silence settled fast between
the knights, the bishop, king & queen
- no deeper silence ever been
in hermitage or arbour green -
that night in towered Camelot.
The monarch brooding then decreed:
"At dawn all solemn rites proceed.
But to her bourn the river lead
The Lady of Shalot".

Although her death a woeful waste
her form they reverently placed
within the chapel strictly based
upon the doctrine that it faced
due east from towered Camelot.
And Lancelot did vigil keep.
His hasty heart alone to leap.
For swathed in shadows thronged and deep
she seemed, God knows, to calmly sleep.
The Lady of Shalot.

So young, so fair, with soft hair curled.
Her snowy robe with silver pearled.
Outside the river eddies whirled
along where reeds and flags were furled
through that cold night at Camelot.
No airy laugh by window pane.
No more her bright smile wax and wane.
No more shall tears from her eyes rain.
The Lady of Shalot.

II

The sun immortal, blushing, bloomed
where lords and ladies gowned and groomed
that hallowed chapel then resumed
and incense rose, a prayer perfumed.
in many towered Camelot.
Hosannas and Te Deums heard
with text from scripture hearts were stirred
and every heart meant every word
for her from far Shalot

From under fumed and fragrant beam
they bore her to the willowed stream.
The mourners, mute in their esteem,
observed the crisping channel gleam
through autumn coloured Camelot.
Embarked between long strakes of frost
her lobed sleeves seven lilies crossed.
So soon to be forever lost
The Lady of Shalot.

An icy surge, the boat was trim,
and as it grew remote and dim,
the river mist around it grim,
the eyes of Lancelot did brim
by riverside at Camelot.
His quondam words returned apace
He said "she has a lovely face,
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalot"

III

Despair moved Arthur to proclaim
a tourney, to dispel the same,
for knight and burgher, lord and dame,
imputed to themselves the blame
for that strange hearse to Camelot
knights from far and wide obeyed
the call to joust. Not one delayed.
Keen every lance and every blade
towards that verdant plot.

Chargers in their trappings prancing;
banners, plumes and pennons dancing;
sunlight off the smooth shields lancing;
damsels smiling, coyly glancing,
all singing on to Camelot.
Singing on so merrily,
knights to combat. Verily,
a glamour trooped across the lea
as sweet at Bergamot

IV

Sir Galahad, in all things blessed,
returned from his accomplished quest
- a brother treated as a guest -
would sit in royal pavilion West
of many towered Camelot.
On that appointed day at dawn
that perfect knight did cross the lawn
to Galahad all eyes were drawn
All eyes, and hearts, God wot!

Above each seat a shield did stand
to indicate of that famed band
which knight sat where, it thus was planned
Upon that grassy plot of land
by many towered Camelot.
Approaching slow he seemed to grieve
"Your majesty, I beg your leave.
The strangest image I perceive
twixt honour point and mot....

A maiden fair as fair can be;
Reflecting no one hear I see.
He then described for none save he
could aught discern. His purity
unmatched in Arthur's Camelot.
"She's dressed", he said "in samite white;
about her head a misty light.
Her hair is curled. Her form is slight.
I know the lady not....

There seven lilies fresh as dew:
With lips, and eyes, and gesture too,
of slender hand she's blessing you. "
His levelled finger pointed to
the noble knight Sir Lancelot.
Sir Lancelot stepped back to draw
his bated breath infused with awe
and whispered: "some unwritten law?
The Lady of Shalot".

From that day forth the magic shield
stood prominent upon the field
and all his knightly skills aneled
till Lancelot was there revealed
the greatest knight in Camelot.
Sir Lamorack and Prince Gawain
the Saracen, all fought in vain.
He cut them down, though none were slain.
Dear lady of Shalot.

V

A jealousy that naught could quell.
Thus, Morgan cast the evil spell
which caused that waif a living hell.
But her own fate might one foretell
in lonely bowered Camelot.
She'd search but never find a friend.
No, not one soul would succour lend
till hell at last she'd comprehend
and knowing may she rot!

Honed treachery was in her heart.
In every glance a poisoned dart,
till those with whom she'd sup would start.
Yea, even dogs would draw apart!
The bane of flowered Camelot.
May God forfend from such a fall
from such a gnarled and vicious gall.
May never such a witch install
her every hex filled knot.

VI

When seven years had run their course
the fairy lady did endorse
Sir Galahad who was the source
of comprehension. He, perforce,
enlightened those by Camelot.
to all there gathered she appeared.
Her beauty by itself endeared
as long upon the shield they stared.
Sweet Lady of Shalot.

While those there gathered crowded round
On bench, on table, platform, mound,
upon that most enchanted ground
a stillness settled so profound
time ceased to flow in Camelot.
The bishop humbly bowed his head.
Queen Guinevere a pure tear shed.
"She's found true peace at last." They said.
The Lady of Shalot

And when her image faded quite
just polished shield was left to sight
Forgiven those who thought it night,
although the Midday sun shone bright
on April showered Camelot.
They crossed themselves, though not for fear,
but hoping when they die to wear
a visage blest as she wore there.
The Lady of Shalot.

 

J.W.