Part II

There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay. She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay[5] To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the _curse_ may be, And so[6] 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 there the surly village-churls,[7] And the red cloaks of market girls, Pass onward from Shalott.

Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, An abbot on an ambling pad, Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, 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:[8] Or when the moon was overhead, Came two young lovers lately wed; “I am half-sick of shadows,” said The Lady of Shalott.[9]

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