To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And little other care hath she, And moving thro' a mirror clear Winding down to Camelot : There the river eddy whirls, And there the surly village-churls, Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: But in her web she still delights For often thro' the silent nights 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, A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, 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, All in the blue unclouded weather As often thro' the purple night, His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flash'd into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She look'd 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 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- 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, Lying, robed in snowy white. That loosely flew to left and right— She floated down to Camelot : And as the boat-head wound along Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot; Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, Out upon the wharfs they came, And round the prow they read her name, |