THE LADY OF SHALOTT. PART I. ON either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, And thro' the field the road runs by And up To many-tower'd Camelot ; and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls, and four gray towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow-veil'd, By slow horses; and unhail'd The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott? Only reapers, reaping early Down to tower'd Camelot: And by the moon the reaper weary, Lady of Shalott." PART II. THERE she weaves by night and day A curse is on her if she stay To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear. There she sees the highway near Winding down to Camelot: There the river eddy whirls, And the red cloaks of market-girls, Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, Goes by to tower'd Camelot; And sometimes thro' the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two: She hath no loyal knight and true, The Lady of Shalott. But in her web she still delights To weave the mirror's magic sights, For often thro' the silent nights A funeral, with plumes and lights, And music, went to Camelot : Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; 66 "I am half-sick of shadows," said The Lady of Shalott. PART III. A BOW-SHOT from her bower-eaves, He rode between the barley sheaves, Of bold Sir Lancelot. A redcross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott. VOL. I. The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, Like to some branch of stars we see G |