The Lady of Shalott Part 2 Alfred, Lord Tennyson There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colours gay. Part 1 She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay On either side the river lie To look down to Camelot. Long fields of barley and of rye, She knows not what the curse may be, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And so she weaveth steadily, And thro' the field the road runs by And little other care hath she, To many-tower'd Camelot; The Lady of Shalott. And up and down the people go,

Gazing where the lilies blow And moving thro' a mirror clear Round an island there below, That hangs before her all the year, The island of Shalott. Shadows of the world appear.

There she sees the highway near Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Winding down to Camelot: Little breezes dusk and shiver There the river eddy whirls, Thro' the wave that runs for ever And there the surly village-churls, By the island in the river And the red cloaks of market girls, Flowing down to Camelot. Pass onward from Shalott. Four gray walls, and four gray towers,

Overlook a space of flowers, Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, And the silent isle imbowers An abbot on an ambling pad, The Lady of Shalott. Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,

Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, By the margin, willow-veil'd Goes by to tower'd Camelot; Slide the heavy barges trail'd And sometimes thro' the mirror blue By slow horses; and unhail'd The knights come riding two and two: The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd She hath no loyal knight and true, Skimming down to Camelot: The Lady of Shalott. But who hath seen her wave her hand?

Or at the casement seen her stand? But in her web she still delights Or is she known in all the land, To weave the mirror's magic sights, The Lady of Shalott? For often thro' the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights Only reapers, reaping early And music, went to Camelot: In among the bearded barley, Or when the moon was overhead, Hear a song that echoes cheerly Came two young lovers lately wed; From the river winding clearly, "I am half-sick of shadows," said Down to tower'd Camelot: The Lady of Shalott. And by the moon the reaper weary,

Piling sheaves in uplands airy,

Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy Part 3 Lady of Shalott." A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,

He rode between the barley-sheaves,

The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves,

And flamed upon the brazen greaves

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. 1

Seeing all his own mischance – The gemmy bridle glitter'd free, With a glassy countenance Like to some branch of stars we see Did she look to Camelot. Hung in the golden Galaxy. And at the closing of the day The bridle-bells rang merrily She loosed the chain, and down she lay; As he rode down to Camelot: The broad stream bore her far away, And from his blazon'd baldric slung The Lady of Shalott. A mighty silver bugle hung, And as he rode his armour rung, Lying, robed in snowy white Beside remote Shalott. That loosely flew to left and right – The leaves upon her falling light – All in the blue unclouded weather Thro' the noises of the night Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, She floated down to Camelot: The helmet and the helmet-feather And as the boat-head wound along Burn'd like one burning flame together, The willowy hills and fields among, As he rode down to Camelot. They heard her singing her last song, As often thro' the purple night, The Lady of Shalott. Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light, Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Moves over still Shalott. Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly, His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; And her eyes were darken'd wholly, On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode; Turn'd to tower'd Camelot; From underneath his helmet flow'd For ere she reach'd upon the tide His coal-black curls as on he rode, The first house by the water-side, As he rode down to Camelot. Singing in her song she died, From the bank and from the river The Lady of Shalott. He flash'd into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Under tower and balcony, Sang Sir Lancelot. By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, She left the web, she left the loom, A corse between the houses high, She made three paces thro' the room, Silent into Camelot. She saw the water-lily bloom, Out upon the wharfs they came, She saw the helmet and the plume, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, She look'd down to Camelot. And round the prow they read her name, Out flew the web and floated wide; The Lady of Shalott. The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried Who is this? and what is here? The Lady of Shalott. And in the lighted palace near Part 4 Died the sound of royal cheer; In the stormy east-wind straining, And they cross'd themselves for fear, The pale-yellow woods were waning, All the knights at Camelot: The broad stream in his banks complaining, But Lancelot mused a little space; Heavily the low sky raining He said, "She has a lovely face; Over tower'd Camelot; God in his mercy lend her grace, Down she came and found a boat The Lady of Shalott." Beneath a willow left afloat, And round about the prow she wrote The Lady of Shalott.

And down the river's dim expanse – Like some bold seër in a trance, 2