Looking into Mirrors can get you into deep Trouble, or Friko's Version of the Lady of Shalott

WILLOW'S MAGPIE TALES No. 37

Once upon a time,

When the world was full of knights and princes 

And ladies living in ivory towers,

One such lady’s tower stood all alone

On an island in the river.

Poets and painters knew of this island

Since time immemorial,

Or at least since the first of them told the story

Of the lady in her tower;

And they all rushed to re-tell it in their own way,

Because it was so very sad.

As well as salutary.

But I digress.

Being all alone - servants didn’t count in those days -,

The lady sat at her loom, 

Weaving by day and by night.

She wove a wondrous web of many colours, 

And while she wove she sang,

But no one heard her – servants not counting, of course.

It so happened

That one of the contractual conditions 

On the tower’s lease was

That the lady must not look upon 

The beautiful landscape surrounding 

The island in the river

Directly.

When she ran out of subjects for her web

She installed a mirror,

In which were reflected 

Shadows of all the world surrounding her,

Rivers and fields and woods, hills and dales,

Highways and byways,

Girls and boys, men and women,

It kept her busy for a long time.

It couldn’t last, idylls never do.

One day a handsome, 

Nay, gloriously beautiful knight,

A veritable hunk,

Rode by on the riverbank,

Singing lustily,

Tirra lirra, he sang.

His song rang over hill and dale,

And reached the lady in her tower.

Overcome by the strains wafting across the river

The lady forgot the rules,

Rushed to the window.

Smitten at first glance, her senses awakened,

Her desire stirred, she leaned over,

Stretching out her arms in eager anticipation.

O, woe, o woe,

She had broken the terms of her lease,

Mirror and idyll  shattered into a thousand pieces.

The Mirror cracked from side to side;

"The Curse is come upon me", cried

The Lady of Shallots.

The handsome, nay, gloriously beautiful knight,

Who was, in fact, none other than Sir Chancealot,

Heard the commotion above him.

Just then, as he looked up, the lady, 

Having overreached herself, 

Came flying out.

Gallantly, he spread his arms wide to catch her.

The Lady breathed at him in ecstasy.

“Mine, all mine”, she cried, kissing him deeply.

Came the reply of Chancealot's:

“I’ll gladly save your life my dear,

But marry you, I won’t, I fear.

There would be no tiny tots,

‘cause I’d never get the hots,

I’d be put off by the odour of shallots",