Full prohibition carries in itself, we find.
The fruit of death is savoury, in my esteem.
Nay more. “The slain do live” a blessed text must seem.[426]215
Then slay me, O my trusty friends, without reproach.
My death is life eternal. Let it, then, approach.
In death I’ll find my love. My dearest friends, adieu!
How long shall I be barred from darling interview?
Unless our separation be from one we mourn,
Why should we say: “Forsooth, to Him we shall return?”[427]
’Tis only he returns, who comes back to his home.