To the pages of

La Belle Dame Sans Merci
(The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy)
 

The Pre-Raphaelites and their followers were reknowned
for doing many versions of the same subject.
Like 'The Lady of Shalott', John Keats poem of
'La Belle Dame Sans Merci' also caught the imagination
of a number of these artists.

Click on the images below to view larger
versions of the paintings.

All are named simply 'La Belle Dame Sans Merci'
 

Frank Cadogan Cowper
 

Sir Frank Dicksee
 

John William Waterhouse

 Arthur Hughes 
{My favourite, I love the '...pale kings and 
princes too, pale warriors, death-pale..' 
lurking behind the two lovers.} 
 
 

And this is the inspiration for these wonderful works,
if you've visited my Lady of Shalott pages, you may have
realised that the lady was not exactly the type of woman
I respect a lot,romantic, yes, but to waste away and die for
the sake of love? No, not my idea of what love's all about.

Keats faerie lady is somewhat the opposite, she may appear
to her knight in shining armour to be a little weak, but in
reality, she's one strong girl! You can't help but feel 
sorry for the unfortunate knight, who has the tables 
turned on him and is left wandering the hills 'alone 
and palely loitering' unto eternity.

Still, I'm afraid, not what love's all about, but at least
this time it's not the poor woman doing it for a change!
 

'La Belle Dame Sans Merci'

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.

I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful- a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone,
She look'd at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing eles saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song

She found me roots of relish sweet.
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said-
"I love thee true!"

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sigh'd full-sore,
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
with kisses four.

And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream'd-ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream'd
On the cold hill's side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried- "La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!"

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither' from the lake,
And no birds sing.

 Background set used with kind permission of