To and fro the bells are swinging,
Heavily heaving to and fro;
Sadly go the mourners, bringing
Dust to join the dust below.
Through the church-aisle, lighted dim,
Chanted knells the ghostly hymn,
Dies irae, dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla!
Mother! flowers that bloom'd and perish'd,
Strew'd thy path the bridal day;
Now the bud thy grief has cherish'd,
With the rest has pass'd away!
Leaf that fadeth — bud that bloometh,
Mingled there, must wait the day
When the seed the grave entombeth
Bursts to glory from the clay.
Dies irae, dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla!
Happy are the old that die,
With the sins of life repented;
Happier he whose parting sigh
Breaks a heart, from sin prevented!
Let the earth thine infant cover
From the cares the living know;
Happier than the guilty lover —
Memory is at rest below!
Memory, like a fiend, shall follow,
Night and day, the steps of Crime;
Hark! the church-bell, dull and hollow,
Shakes another sand from time!
Through the church-aisle, lighted dim,
Chanted knells the ghostly hymn;
Hear it, False One, where thou fliest,
Shriek to hear it when thou diest —
Dies irae, dies illa,
Solvet saeclum in favilla!