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 saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. 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 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— She floated down to Camelot : And as the boat-head wound along Heard a carol, mournful, holy, Till her blood was frozen slowly, Turn'd to tower'd Camelot. For ere she reach'd upon the tide Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Out upon the wharfs they came, And round the prow they read her name, Who is this? and what is here? Died the sound of royal cheer; And they cross'd themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot : But Lancelot mused a little space ; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in his lend her grace, mercy MARIANA IN THE SOUTH. WITH One black shadow at its feet, But "Ave Mary," made she moan, She, as her carol sadder grew, From brow and bosom slowly down Her streaming curls of deepest brown |