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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; 140
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.

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'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Hear me, O earth, hear me, O hills, O caves That house the cold crown'd srake! O mountain brooks,

I am the daughter of a River-God,
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed,
A cloud that gather'd shape; for it may be
That, while I speak of it, a little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.

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'Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, 180 The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh Half-whisper'd in his ear, "I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece."

She spoke and laugh'd; I shut my sight for fear;

But when I look'd, Paris had raised his arm,
And I beheld great Herè's angry eyes,
As she withdrew into the golden cloud,
And I was left alone within the bower;
And from that time to this I am alone,
And I shall be alone until I die.

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'Yet, mother Ida, harken ere I die. Fairest - why fairest wife? am I not fair? My love hath told me so a thousand times. Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, When I past by, a wild and wanton pard, Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail

Crouch'd fawning in the weed. Most loving is she?

Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my

arms

Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest

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O happy tears, and how unlike to these! O happy heaven, how canst thou see my face?

O happy earth, how canst thou bear my weight?

O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud,

There are enough unhappy on this earth, Pass by the happy souls, that love to live; I pray thee, pass before my light of life, And shadow all my soul, that I may die. Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, Weigh heavy on my eyelids; let me die. 240

'O mother, hear me yet before I die. I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts Do shape themselves within me, more and more,

Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear
Death sounds at night come from the in-
most hills,

Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see
My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother
Conjectures of the features of her child
Ere it is born. Her child!—a shudder

comes

Across me: never child be born of me, 250 Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes!

'O mother, hear me yet before I die. Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone, Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road of death Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love With the Greek woman. I will rise and go Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth Talk with the wild Cassandra, for she says A fire dances before her, and a sound Rings ever in her ears of armed men. What this may be I know not, but I know That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day, All earth and air seem only burning fire."

THE LOTOS-EATERS

[First printed 1833; altered in 1842.]

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