We'll beg a friendly shelter till the morn.
1st Monk. See, the procession enters: let us join.
(The organ strikes up a solemn prelude. Enter a procession of Nuns, with the Abbess, bearing torches. After compassing the grave twice, and remaining there some time, whilst the organ plays a grand dirge, they advance to the front of the stage.)
SONG, BY THE NUNS.
Departed soul, whose poor remains
This hallow'd lowly grave contains;
Whose passing storm of life is o'er,
Whose pains and sorrows are no more!
Bless'd be thou with the bless'd above!
Where all is joy, and purity, and love.
Let him, in might and mercy dread,
Lord of the living and the dead;
In whom the stars of heav'n rejoice,
To whom the ocean lifts his voice,
Thy spirit purified to glory raise,
To sing with holy saints his everlasting praise.
Departed soul, who in this earthly scene
Hast our lowly sister been.
Swift be thy way to where the blessed dwell?
Until we meet thee there, farewell! farewell!
Enter a Lay Sister, with a wild terrified look, her hair and dress all scattered, and rushes forward amongst them.
Abb. Why com'st thou here, with such disorder'd looks,
