Come listen to the song of the happy Soul's departure, at the moment when she quits her dwelling. She looks down a little towards the earth, and speaks to the poor body which is lying on its bed of death. SOUL. "Alas, my body! Behold, the last hour is come; I must quit thee and this world also. "I hear the rapping of the death-watch. Thy head swims; thy lips are cold as ice; thy visage is all changed. Alas, poor body! I must leave thee!" BODY. "If my visage is changed and horrible, it is too true that you must leave me. "You are, then, unmindful of the past; despising your poor friend, who is, alas! so disfigured. Likeness is the mother of love: since you have no longer any left to me, lay me aside." SOUL. "No, dearest friend, I despise you not. Of all the Commandments, you have not broken one. "But it is the will of God (let us bless his goodness) to put an end to my authority and your subjection. Behold us parted asunder by pitiless death. Behold me all alone between heaven and earth, like the little blue dove who flew from the ark to see if the storm was over." BODY. "The little blue dove came back to the ark, but you will never return to me." SOUL. "Nay, truly, but I will return to thee, and solemnly promise so to do; we shall meet again at the Day of Judgment. "As truly shall I return to thee as I now go forth to the particular judgment, the thought of which, alas! makes me tremble. "Have confidence, my friend. After the northwest wind there falls a calm on the sea. "I will come again and take thee by the hand; and wert thou heavy as iron, when I shall have been in heaven, I will draw thee to me like a loadstone." BODY. "When I shall be, dear Soul, stretched in the tomb, and destroyed in the earth by corruption; "When I shall have neither finger nor hand, nor foot nor arm, in vain will you try to raise me to you." SOUL. "He who created the world without model or matter has power to restore thee to thy first form. "He who knew thee when thou wast not shall find thee where thou wilt not be! "As truly shall we meet again as that I now go before the terrible tribunal, at the thought whereof I tremble, "Feeble and frail as a leaf in the autumn wind." * * * * * God hears the Soul, and hastens to answer it saying, Courage, poor Soul, thou shalt not be long in pain. Because thou hast served me in the world, thou shalt have part in my felicities. And the soul, always rising, casts again a glance below, and beholds her body lying on the funeral bier.