Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, And sometimes through the mirror blue But in her web she still delights 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, The sun came dazzling through the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A redcross knight forever kneeled That sparkled on the yellow field, The gemmy bridle glittered free, The bridle bells rang merrily As he rode down to Camelot : And from his blazoned baldric slung And as he rode his armor rung, All in the blue unclouded weather As often through the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed; As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She looked down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; PART IV. In the stormy east-wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning, Over towered Camelot; Down she came and found a boat Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote And down the river's dim expanse· 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 - 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, Till her blood was frozen slowly, Turned to towered Camelot; For ere she reached upon the tide Singing in her song she died, Under tower and balcony, Out upon the wharfs they came, |