The only thing that everybody agreed on was that the tower, surrounded by four grey walls, was deserted but for a hauntingly beautiful, spectral maiden.
The maiden was sylphlike, all said, and had only been seen through the mirror hanging in her bower. From there, the tales varied - the ghost of a noblewoman, a sorceress, a grief-stricken widow, a trapped and sorrowful maid - but the consistent theory was that the maiden was long dead.
The Lady of Shalott, as her story fits into the canon of Merlin. Part 4: Knowing that it's game over, the Lady finds a boat by the side of the river and writes her name on it.
After looking at Camelot for a while she lies down in the boat and lets it slip downstream. She drifts down the river, singing her final song, and dies before she gets to Camelot. The people of Camelot come out to see the body of the Lady and her boat, and are afraid.
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Lancelot also trots out, decides that she's pretty, and says a little prayer for her. All rights reserved.
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The Lady of Shalott
Logging out On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold  and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot; And up and down the people go, Gazing where the lilies blow  Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten  , aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott. By the margin, willow-veiled, Slide the heavy barges trailed By slow horses; and unhailed The shallop  flitteth silken-sailed Skimming down to Camelot: But who hath seen her wave her hand? Or at the casement seen her stand? Or is she known in all the land, The Lady of Shalott?
There she weaves by night and day A magic web with colours gay.
Lord of Shalott
She has heard a whisper say, A curse is on her if she stay  To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving through 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  , And the red cloaks of market girls, Pass onward from Shalott.