wine
to
an
expiring
heart,
and
restore
life
in
order
to
destroy
it
afresh?
This
is
Thy
sport
Thou
woundest
to
the
death;
and
when
Thou
seest
the
victim
on
the
point
of
expiring,
Thou
healest
one
wound
in
order
to
inflict
another
!
Alas
!
usually
we
die
but
once;
and
the
very
cruellest
murderers
in
times
of
persecution,
though
they
prolonged
life,
it
is
true,
yet
were
content
to
destroy
it
but
once.
But
Thou,
less
compassionate
than
they,
takest
away
our
life
time
after
time,
and
restorest
it
again.
O
life,
which
cannot
be
lost
without
so
many
deaths
1
O
death,
which
can
only
be
attained
by
the
loss
of
so
many
lives
!
Perhaps
this
soul,
after
thou
hast
devoured
it
in
Thy
bosom,
will
enjoy
its
Beloved.
That
would
be
too
great
happiness
for
it
:
it
must
undergo
another
torture.
It
must
be
buried
and
reduced
to
ashes.
But
perhaps
it
will
then
arrive
at
the
end
of
its
sufferings,
for
bodies
which
decay
sufier
no
longer.
Oh
!
it
is
not
thus
with
the
soul
:
it
suffers
continually
;
and
burial,
decay,
and
nothingness
are
even
more
sensibly
felt
by
it
than
death
itself.
This
degree
of
death
is
extremely
long,
and
as
I
