Elaine

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Piteous woman, weak and frail,
In death's boat do I sail,
Locks be red, lips be pale,
Hearken fools!

For what hope hath a broken heart?
To beat, to stop and to start,
None, so I do depart,
Onto Camelot.

So my life was frozen slowly
And my eyes darkened wholly,
Here lies your 'love' solely,
Because of you.

To fall on knee and give me flowers,
Serenade me through the nightly hours,
To dance with me in rain's soft showers,
My love.

A heart, once taken, cannot be swapped,
First times, first loves cannot be topped,
How can your love thus be stopped?
Without a word?

Verily, I hatched my plan,
Oh dear hate, my love-torn scam,
And by the moon of sweet Diane,
You loved me once more,

For tricks cannot fool the true,
Lo! Such passion, me and you,
"Matter, my love? Why such pale hue?"
Your eyes widened,

You left the bed; you left the gloom,
You ran with fear out of the room,
And with these steps you spelt my doom,
And ne'er looked back,

I knew then what I had done,
And knew what was doomed to come,
'Neath the stars with absent sun,
My heart broke.

I left the room at first light,
And without hate, and without spite,
On that boat I did write,
My name.

I lay down with hands crossed,
Minding not the damp nor frost,
An ere my life was lost,
I thought of you.

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 wharfs they came,
Knight and Burgher, Lord and Dame,
And around the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.

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AFTERNOTE:

Barring of course the last verse, this is entirely mine. All rights reserved.

If you don't already know, the Lady of Shallot is a famous poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson. There are also quite a few pre-Raphaelite paintings depicting her final journey down the river.

What I have written would go before the last part of the poem. No, it's not fanfic.

Here I've drawn a comparison between the Lady of Shallot, and Elaine of Astolat, a beautiful girl who fell in love with Sir Lancelot. He of course was too besotted with Guinevere to return it. Distraught, she went to a witch who gave her a magic potion. On taking the potion she became exact in looks to Guinevere, and when she approached Lancelot, he immediately took her in his arms, believing his true heart's love had come to him.

In the morning, when the spell had worn off, Lancelot was horrified. He left immediately.

Elaine died of a broken heart soon afterwards. She had been destined to be the Grail Maiden, but her deceitful tryst with Lancelot had rendered her not pure enough to take up the task.