I feel a great likeness to the fair and lovely Lady of Shalott, not only for we have both "lovely faces," but the ever present feelings of hopeless and of entrapment. Dost all women feel this way though? For we live to simply to marry and bear children. The Lady of Shalott, however, is able to be unto herself to practice her weaving like that of Brigantia. But, can she not have her weaving, personal identity and love of a man? For when the Lady of Shalott utters, “I’m half sick of shadows,” when she sees two lovers wed, she seems to wish for love of a man as well as her weaving. So as soon as Lady Shalott hears the singing of Sir Lancelot, “Tirra lira,” she ventures out into the world where she later dies upon a swimming boat.
This curse that has befallen upon her seems to be a prevalent curse that all women share. I was taken from my lovely Ireland, forced to travel to foreign lands and marry a strange man, all for mere diplomatic purposes. It seems as though I were once entombed, when wedded to King Mark and then escaped to attain true love, with that of my dearest Tristan.