After an introduction, which gives out the subject of the opening movement,--a slow, mournful, solemn theme,--the first number begins with the impressive strain, "Requiem aeternam dona eis," which gradually brightens in the phrase, "Et Lux perpetua," and reaches a splendid burst of exultation in the "Te decet hymnus," of which Oublichieff, the Russian critic, says: "One seems to hear the voice of an archangel, and Saint Cecilia herself with her organ sounding a fugued accompaniment which the most laborious efforts of mortals never could have power to reach." After a repetition of the "Requiem aeternam," the number closes with the "Kyrie eleison," a slow and complicated fugue, which is sublime in its effect, though very sombre in color, as befits the subject. The next number is the "Dies Irae," written for chorus in simple counterpoint, and very dramatic in its character, the orchestral part being constantly vigorous, impetuous, and agitated, and reaching intense energy on the verse, "Quantus tremor est futurus," the whole presenting a vivid picture in tones of the terrors of the last judgment. In the "Tuba mirum" the spirit of the music changes from the church form to the secular. It is written for solo voices, ending in a quartet. The bass begins with the "Tuba mirum," set to a portentous trombone accompaniment; then follow the tenor ("Mors stupebit"), the alto ("Judex ergo"), and the soprano ("Quid sum miser"). This number is particularly remarkable for the manner in which the music is shaded down from the almost supernatural character of the opening bass solo to the beauty and sweetness of the soprano solo. From this extraordinary group we pass to the sublime chorus, "Rex tremendae majestatis," once more in the church style, which closes with the prayer, "Salva me," in canonical form. With rare skill is this last appeal of humanity woven out of the thunder-crashes of sound in the judgment-music. The "Dies Irae" is followed by the "Recordare," written, like the "Tuba mirum," as a quartet for solo voices. The vocal parts are in canon form and are combined with marvellous skill, relieved here and there with solos in purely melodic style, as in the "Quaerens me," while the orchestral part is an independent fugue, with several subjects worked up with every form of instrumental embellishment, the fugue itself sometimes relieved by plain accompaniment. The whole is an astonishing piece of contrapuntal skill, apparently inexhaustible in its scientific combinations, and yet never for an instant losing its deep religious significance. Once more the orchestral part is full of agitation and even savage energy in the "Confutatis maledictis," as it accompanies a powerful double chorus, closing at last in a majestic prayer ("Oro supplex et acclinis"), in which all the voices join in magnificent harmony.