The soul, at the moment of entering, once more turns her head, and sees her poor body like a little mole-hill.
"Till we meet again, my body—and thanks—till we meet again, till we meet again in the valley of Jehosaphat.
"I hear sweet harmonies I never heard before. The day breaks, and the shadows are fled away.
"Behold, I am like a rose-tree planted by the waters of the river of life."
This dialogue bears a remarkable resemblance to at least three similar compositions by S. Ephrem Syrus, Deacon of Edessa, who died A.D. 372. With the Breton poem it may not be uninteresting to compare the following wild Northern dirge, which may be unknown to some amongst our readers:
SCOTTISH LYKE-WAKE DIRGE.
"This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
Every nighte an' alle,
Fire, an' sleet, an' candle-light,
An' Christe receive thy saule.
"When thou from hence away art paste,
Every nighte an' alle,
To whinny-muir thou comest at laste,
An' Christe receive thy saule.
"If ever thou gavest hosen or shoon,
Every nighte an' alle,
Sit thee down an' put them on,
An' Christe receive thy saule.