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, PART III. A BOW-SHOT from her bower-eaves, The sun came dazzling through the leaves, 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 A mighty silver bugle hung, 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, 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 The Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white away, 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, Turned to towered Camelot; For ere she reached upon the tide Singing in her song she died, Under tower and balcony, |