Knight and burgher, lord and dame, Who is this? and what is here? 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." MARIANA IN THE SOUTH. I. WITH One black shadow at its feet, The house through all the level shines, Close-latticed to the brooding heat, And silent in its dusty vines: A faint-blue ridge upon the right, An empty river-bed before, And shallows on a distant shore, But "Ave Mary," made she moan, II. She, as her carol sadder grew, From brow and bosom slowly down Through rosy taper fingers drew Her streaming curls of deepest brown To left and right, and made appear, Her melancholy eyes divine, III. Till all the crimson changed, and past Low on her knees herself she cast, "Is this the form," she made her moan, "That won his praises night and morn And "Ah," she said, "but I wake alone I sleep forgotten, I wake forlorn," 6 IV. Nor bird would sing, nor lamb would bleat, And seemed knee-deep in mountain grass, She breathed in sleep a lower moan, V. Dreaming, she knew it was a dream : Fell, and without the steady glare Struck up against the blinding wall. She whispered, with a stifled moan VI. And, rising, from her bosom drew Old letters, breathing of her worth, An image seemed to pass the door, So be alone for evermore." 66 "O cruel heart," she changed her tone, "And cruel love, whose end is scorn, Is this the end to be left alone, To live forgotten, and die forlorn!" VII. But sometimes in the falling day An image seemed to pass the door, To look into her eyes and say, "But thou shalt be alone no more." |