That solvent eateth away all dross, leaving the gold intact:
Matter lingereth in the retort, spirit hath flown to the receiver:
And lo, that recipient of the spirits, it is some aerial world,
An oasis midway on the desert space, separating earth from heaven,
A prison-house for essences incorporate, a limbus vague and wide,
Tartarus for evil, and Paradise for good, that intermediate Hadës.
O Death, what art thou? a Lawgiver that never altereth,
Fixing the consummating seal, whereby the deeds of life become established:
O Death, what art thou? a stern and silent usher,
Leading to the judgment for Eternity, after the trial-scene of Time: