The gold doth show her blessedness,
The sapphires mark her true.
"And round about, in quaintest guise,
Was carved—'Within this tomb there lies
The fairest thing to mortal eyes.'"
Farewell, sweet Isabella!—a wife at eight, a widow at twelve, and dead at twenty-two,—your life was indeed short, and, though not without happy days, sorrow blended largely with its joy!