So he carefully laid that form of clay
On a shelving rock in the cave away;
And he flung the pure folds of her own white dress
O’er her marble brow, in that dark recess.
Then he wandered on, and lived and grew,
Like the rest of Lynn people, tied to a shoe;
For he dared not betray the gold, so bright,
Lest he should be murdered, some silent night,
But, at last, the great earth felt the earthquake’s shock,
And Veale was immured in the prison rock.