She drags a black sponge from her bosom, covers it with kisses ...
"Ah! my friend! my friend!"
A Man. "It is just three years to-day since Domitilla died. They stoned her at the further end of the Grove of Proserpine. I gathered her bones, which shone like glowworms in the grass. The earth how covers them."
(He casts himself down upon a tomb.)
"O my betrothed! my betrothed!"
(And all the others scattered over the plain:—)
"O my sister! O my brother! O my daughter! O my mother!"
(Some kneel, covering their faces with their hands; others lie down upon the ground with their arms extended; and the sobs they smother shake their breasts with such violence as though their hearts were breaking with grief. Sometimes they look up to heaven, exclaiming:—)
"Have mercy upon her soul, O my God! She languishes in the sojourn of Shades; vouchsafe to admit her to thy Resurrection, that she may enjoy Thy Light!"