The Filly Of Shetlot

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 Canterlot;
And up and down the ponies go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
          The island of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
          The Filly of Shetlot.

By the margin, willow-veil'd
Slide the heavy barges trail'd
By earth ponies; and unhail'd
The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd
          Skimming down to Canterlot:
But who hath seen her wave her hoof?
Or at the casement seen, aloof?
Or is she known, without a proof,
          The Filly of Shetlot?

Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
          Down to tower'd Canterlot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
          Filly of Shetlot."


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 Canterlot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot:
There the river eddies whirl,
And there the surly village-churls,
And mares with red cloaks go below,
          Pass onward from Shetlot.

Sometimes a troop of young mares glad,
A stallion with an ambling pad,
Sometimes a young colt with his dad,
Or long-mane'd page in crimson clad,
          Goes by to tower'd Canterlot;
And sometimes thro' the mirror blue
The guards come trotting two and two:
She hath no loyal Guard and true,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half-sick of shadows," said
          The Filly of Shetlot.


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 Prancelot.
A redcross guard for ever kneel'd
To a filly in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
          Beside remote Shetlot.

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 went down to Canterlot:
And from his blazon'd baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he went his armour rung,
          Beside remote Shetlot.

All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell'd shone his armour-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn'd like one burning flame together,
          As he went down to Canterlot.
As often thro' the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
          Moves over still Shetlot.

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd;
On burnish'd hooves he went and trode;
From underneath his helmet flow'd
His coal-black curls as on he strode,
          As he went down to Canterlot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash'd into the crystal mirror,
"Tirra lirra," by the river
          Sang Sir Prancelot.

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 Canterlot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
          The Filly of Shetlot.


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 Canterlot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot:
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 Canterlot;
For ere she reach'd upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
A corse between the houses high,
          Silent into Canterlot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Guards and burghers, nobles, dames,
And round the prow they read her name,
          The Filly of Shetlot.

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 guards at Canterlot:
But Prancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
Celestia's mercy lend her grace,
          The Filly of Shetlot."