The Lady of Shalott [on boat]
John William Waterhouse,1888,Oil on canvas
The Tate Gallery - London, England
Actual Size (W x H) 200cm x 153cm

上面这幅画很多人都不陌生，第一次听说The Lady of Shalott这首诗就是因为J.W.Waterhouse[Wiki, Official Website]的这幅画，Waterhouse是偶最喜欢的画家，他似乎很钟情于这首诗，曾经为它画过三幅画，除了1888年的The Lady of Shalott [on boat]，现在收藏在伦敦泰勒美术馆，还有下面两幅是1894年画的The Lady of Shalott [looking at Lancelot]，收藏在英国利兹市立美术馆，和1915年画的I am Half-Sick of Shadows - said the Lady of Shalott，收藏在多伦多安省美术馆，事实上，不止Waterhouse，很多前拉斐尔派的画家都曾以这首诗为题材作过画。

The Lady of Shalott [looking at Lancelot]
John William Waterhouse,1894,Oil on canvas
Leeds Art Gallery - Leeds, England
Actual Size (W x H): 86cm x 142cm

I am Half-Sick of Shadows - said the Lady of Shalott       
John William Waterhouse,1915,Oil on canvas
Art Gallery of Ontario - Toronto, Canada
Actual Size (W x H): 74cm x 100cm

The Lady of Shalott是英国诗人Alfred Lord Tennyson(1809－1892)的作品，分为1832年和1842年两个版本，诗中的故事来源于Thomas Malory的Morte d'Arthur中的Elaine the fair maid of Astolat这 个故事， Elaine被她爱的人Lancelot拒绝后自杀了（用的是“自杀笔记”[suicide note]，我想会不会后来超红的动漫《死亡笔记》也是借用了这个灵感），她的尸体沿河从Thames漂到了Camelot的沙滩上，Tennyson曾 经甚至专门写过一首长诗Lancelot and Elaine（尽管Tennyson后来否认了1832年的那个版本，并称自己的创作灵感来源于意大利传说）。

诗中讲了一个叫Shalott的女孩，因为受到诅咒，每天只能从镜子中看外面的世界，转过身亲眼去看任何景象她都会死去。Shalott一边编织一边从镜中观望那个叫做Camelot的地方，日日夜夜的看那些花朵、河流、麦田、寂静的城墙和月光，她把看到的奇异景象都变成了手中美奂美轮的编织，可是她依然伤心的感觉到自己一直只能是个无足轻重的旁观者，甚至没人关心她是不是存在，I am half sick of shadows，Shalott说。

直到有一天她遇到了刚好路过的Lancelot，被他迷住了的Shalott情不自禁的离开了织机，转过身后她终于看见了真实的世界，然后听见镜子破碎的声音。"The curse is come upon me,"Shalott cried。知道自己快要死了的Shalott走下了楼，坐上了一艘小船，在上面刻上了自己的名字“the lady of Shalott”，然后就让小船向通往Camelot的方向顺流而下，而她自己则轻轻唱着歌，渐渐陷入了恍惚和冰冷。后来Camelot的人们发现了Shalott的小船和她的尸体，大家围观着议论纷纷，甚至惊动了附近皇宫里的人，王室的人都觉得很害怕，只有Lancelot看着Shalott似乎陷入了沉思，最后他说"She has a lovely face;God in his mercy lend her grace,The Lady of Shalott."

真是一个美丽又悲伤的故事。
有人说，Shalott太过逆来顺受，总是被动的接受命运的安排。
有人说，这首诗歌颂了爱情的伟大。
有人说，这不只是爱情，临死前Shalott坐着船轻轻唱着歌，并没有继续去寻找Lancelot，Shalott真正想要的是与这个真实世界的连接：真实的景象，真实的目光，真实的爱，真实的自己。Shalott是勇敢的，用生命来向外面的世界证明了自己的存在。
有人说，Shalott是一个象征，象征着那些艺术创作者——就象Shalott看着镜中的虚景编织出美不胜收的作品，那些文学家、画家、音乐家，他们太过敏锐的感受力和对这个外界丰富的想象力反而让他们无法融入这个世界，他们给世人带来无数精神财产，自己却只是苦闷的局外人。

一千个读者一千个Shalott吧。

不过关乎现实和虚幻的主题却是公认的，老杜上课时与我们说，人觉得快乐，都是因为存在幻觉。越想越觉得有道理，人的一生，能经历的事是多么有限，很多时候我们都靠想象力活着，我们用教学课本、历史传记、名著小说、电影戏剧里的元素形成了那么多美好的概念，以为自己也能遇到罗密欧和朱丽叶似的爱情、以为自己可以遇到阿拉丁、以为自己可以成为拯救世界的英雄，成为摇滚明星、成为吟游诗人、成为白手起家的成功企业家，以为自己不平凡，以为生命很漫长，以为自己对这个世界有无限价值。当有一天谁失去了幻觉，就说明谁失去了梦想，失去了希望，可哪怕临死的人，也希望自己可以逃过一劫，希望儿孙以后能够自己过得幸福之类——人类是不可能失去希望的，因为希望一直安安稳稳的装在潘多拉的盒子里，所以我们总是那么多期待和幻想，特别是我这样的年龄，人生的路几乎才刚刚在脚下展开，就像那面对镜子的Shalott一样，书籍，网络，电视，家人的劝告，别人的故事，朋友的谈话，就像竖在我面前的一面面镜子，让我理解和看到这个世界，可自觉我并未真的融入其中，怎样才是真实，也许哲学家也未曾回答得清楚吧。

The Lady of Shalott
Part I
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.

Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro' the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray 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?

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."

Part II
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.

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.

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
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.

Part III
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.

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 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.

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."