And from his blazoned7 baldric slung A mighty silver bugle hung,And as he rode his armor rung, Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jeweled shone the saddle leather,1Greaves: armor for the leg below the knee.
2Sir Lancelot: the most famous of the knights of King Arthur"s Round Table. 3 Red-cross Knight: St. George, the patron saint of England.
4Gemmy: ornamented with gems.
5Camelot: a legendary town in Winchester, England, the seat of King Arthur"s palace.
6Galaxy: the Milky Way.
7Blazoned: emblazoned; adorned with a coat of arms.
The helmet and the helmet feather Burned like one burning flame together,As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night, Below the starry clusters bright, Some bearded meteor, trailing light,Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glowed; On burnished hooves his war-horse trode; From underneath his helmet flowedHis coal-black curls as on he rode, As he rode down to Camelot. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror,"Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room, She saw the water lily bloom,She saw the helmet and the plume,She looked down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide;The mirror cracked from side to side: "The curse is come upon me," criedThe Lady of Shalott.
"The curse is come upon me."
PART Ⅳ
In the stormy east wind straining, The pale yellow woods were waning,The broad stream in his banks complaining, Heavily the low sky rainingOver towered 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 Like some bold seer1 in a trance,1 Seer: prophet.
Seeing all his own mischance- With a glassy countenanceDid she look to Camelot. And at the closing of the dayShe 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- The leaves upon her falling light- Through the noises of the nightShe 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, Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her blood was frozen slowly,And her eyes were darkened wholly, Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide The first house by the water side, Singing, in her song she died,The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony, By garden wall and gallery,A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high,Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharves they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame,And round the prow they read her name, "The Lady of Shalott."Who is this? and what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer;And they crossed themselves for fear, All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space; He said, "She has a lovely face; God in His mercy lend her grace,The Lady of Shalott."