IX.

THE INFANT-BURIAL

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!_