Requirement: EN 206: English Literature II Essay Instructions Format and Length: This is a formal analytical essay using MLA guidelines for documentation and format. Your essay should: include a header in the top left margin with your name, date, and course name include a content-related title, centered on the line be double spaced include internal works cited entries using MLA include a Works Cited page listing your source, using MLA be 4 to 6 double-spaced pages, not including the Works Cited page You do not need any outside sources except for the primary source you’re analyzing. Essay Goal: The aim is to produce an essay that is academic in tone (and, of course, free of informal language and frequent technical/usage errors) and analyzes a major work closely in order to respond to one of the essay prompt options. You do not have to use one of the prompts I’ve given you, but if you choose a different topic, you need to e-mail me that topic for approval 2 weeks before the Essay deadline. I suggest using the PowerPoint presentations included in the Course Resources folder on the Course Menu to assist you with how to approach the poetry or fiction you’ve chosen My topic is here: Alfred, Lord Tennyson is an important person for the Victorians”he is even Poet Laureate for a time. During his lifetime, there was a common belief, or theory, about gender: the theory of Separate Spheres. This theory maintained that men and women were alike in nothing; men should do masculine things, women should do feminine things, and never the twain shall meet. Examine his female characters”Mariana and the Lady of Shalott. What is it about their circumstances, individually or together, that might serve as Tennyson’s commentary on this theory? What do you think Tennyson’s position on women’s rights was? This topic relate to two poem as follow: Mariana The Lady of Shalott Outline: Introduction: Body : Conclusion: Mariana BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Mariana in the Moated Grange (Shakespeare, Measure for Measure) With blackest moss the flower-plots Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the pear to the gable-wall. The broken sheds look’d sad and strange: Unlifted was the clinking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, My life is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said, I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead! Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, The night is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said, I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead! Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen’s low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seem’d to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, The day is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said, I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead! About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blacken’d waters slept, And o’er it many, round and small, The cluster’dmarish-mosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver-green with gnarled bark: For leagues no other tree did mark The level waste, the rounding gray. She only said, My life is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said I am aweary, aweary I would that I were dead! And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up and away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, The night is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead! All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creak’d; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek’d, Or from the crevice peer’d about. Old faces glimmer’d thro’ the doors Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without. She only said, My life is dreary, He cometh not, she said; She said, I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead! The sparrow’s chirrup on the roof, The slow clock ticking, and the sound Which to the wooing wind aloof The poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour When the thick-moted sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping toward his western bower. Then said she, I am very dreary, He will not come, she said; She wept, I am aweary, aweary, Oh God, that I were dead! The Lady of Shalott (1842) BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 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 shallopflitteth 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 everkneel’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, Tirralirra, 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 seÃ«r 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.