He wields a heavy mattock in his hands,
And over him a lonely lanthorn stands
On a near niche, shedding a sickly fall
Of light upon a marble pedestal,
Whereon is chisel’d rudely, the essay
Of untaught tool, “Hic jacet Agathè,”
And Julio hath bent him down in speed,
like one that doeth an unholy deed.
There is a flagstone lieth heavily
Over the ladye’s grave; I wist of three