Iii

Thus far the lady’s story.— Now she, too, Reclines within that hoary Last dark mew In Mellstock Quire with him she loved so true.

A yellowing marble, placed there Tablet-wise, And two joined hearts enchased there Meet the eyes; And reading their twin names we moralize:

Did she, we wonder, follow Jealously? And were those protests hollow?— Or saw he Some semblant dame? Or can wraiths really be?

Were it she went, her honour, All may hold, Pressed truth at last upon her Till she told— (Him only—others as these lines unfold.)

Riddle death-sealed for ever, Let it rest! . . . One’s heart could blame her never If one guessed That go she did. She knew her actor best.