THE EVE OF ALL-SOUL S.

BY MRS. ACTON TINDAL.

I.

[According to popular superstition, the souls of the departed are set free upon earth on the Eve of All-Souls. They are said to pass before the gaze of the watcher in their well-remembered human forms.]

I SAT beside a high cathedral's door,

When the priest chanted masses for the dead;

For souls departed in the shades of yore,

And those o'er whom the scarce-dried tear was shed-
For all who lived and died since Time began-
They prayed that night for every soul of man.

The fragrant incense through the portals rolled
On the cold brightness of the wintry night;
Here glared red torches, shone the yellow gold;
There lay the calm moon's spiritual light.
Here wept the Magdalen in blooming woe
On Rubens' canvas-beamed the Holy Child
Murillo pictured o'er the altar's glow;

And, strong in faith, from present pain beguiled,
Here Guido's Martyr on his torturer smiled!
Without, grey vapours o'er the moonbeams sail,
And ever and anon the wind's wild wail,
With gust and cry, comes sobbing up the vale.

Then through the arches, with majestic swell,
The lab'ring organ poured its mighty knell,
Like voices gathering in earth's myriad graves—
First deep and distant, as the roar of waves
Pent up and raging in vast shadowy caves-
Then bearing upward, in one gush sublime,
The hope and fear that outlives death and time-
A prayer supreme, to move the heart of God
Toward all the sinners garnered 'neath the sod—
The "Miserere" of the human race,

Breaking the silence of the burial-place;

Then sweet, low tones, like one who prayed and wept,
In faltering utterance through the temple swept-
The voice of penitence! but love was there,
And faith grew strong amid the chanted
"Te decet Hymnus Deus" proudly rose
Above the requiem of all human woes;

prayer;

That praise triumphant swelled from vault to dome,
And, launched on space, vibrating, travelled home.

THE GATHERING OF THE SOULS.

I watched within the porch that night,
Till from the graves around

There crept a wan and bluey light
Along the death-sown ground.
A heavy, lumbering noise I heard
Within the tombs below,

As though the coffins heaved and stirred,
And rolled in sudden throe.
The rage of winds died faint afar,
Lulled was the realm of air,
A pallor came upon each star,
The Souls were passing there.
The shadows took a myriad forms,
The breath of night was quick,-
Faster than rain in thunder-storms,
Than snowflakes falling thick.
No figures known to men may tell
The numbers of that throng;
They pour up from morass and fell,
And mountain-bulwark strong;
They crown the peaks 'twixt earth and sky;
They thread the straight defiles;

They fill the valleys silently;

They crowd the forest aisles.
As the white vapours hovering o'er
The cataract's deafening tide,
As the sea-mist that wraps the shore,
A vast shroud floating wide,
They rolled along, that spectre throng,
Stretching in space away;
Fleecy and white, into the night
Swept on the wan array.

face,

I felt the salt wind smite my
The stirring, buoyant breeze;
It bore into the burial-place

The odour of the seas;
It syllabled in murmurs vain,

That o'er the waters creep,
"His own He bringeth back again
From out the great sea-deep."

A lurid gleam rose through the ocean,
It lighted up each pale green wave;
It travelled with a trembling motion,
The corpse-light of the watery grave.
And softly through that spectral brightness,
From coral-grove and pearly bed,
They glided up in human likeness,
The spirits of the ocean's dead.

The dead, O Earth, are on thy face,
The spoil of every age;

Each dons for this night's narrow space
The garb of pilgrimage-

The semblance of the frame he wore
In days of mortal strife,

That wept his long past sorrows o'er,
That knew his joys in life.

Lo! I heard a mighty singing,
Bursting from the valley ground,
Through the midnight silence ringing,
Even to the starry bound,
Every echoing headland bringing

Up the Jubilee of Sound!

CHANT OF THE MARTYRS OF TRUTH AND SCIENCE.

Hark, the music rises sweetly,

Up the coming days it swells,
For the pulse of hope beats fleetly
On the future's golden bells;
Light is filt'ring through its curtain,
And apart the cloud-drifts roll:
With a joy profound and certain,
Gazes on the wond'ring soul;
For the years that hasten nearer,
Dawn'd afar to seers of yore;
Faith hath risen stronger, clearer,
Fear dishonours God no more.
Thoughts a few great hearts had treasured
In the day-dreams of the mind,
By the sense of nations measured,

Blossom broad-cast o'er mankind.
Yes! the souls of men are growing
Riper, wider, 'neath the Sun,
Leaven through the mass is flowing,
Swift and bright the currents run.
All the Wonder and the Glory,
All the Counsel and the Might,
Even Nature's hidden Story
Is opening into Light!

Not in vain We Martyrs perished;
Truths our tears and blood bedewed,
In the heart of man were cherished,
'Mid the spirit's solitude.
Mysteries of the earth and ocean,
Secrets wrapped in light and sound,
Laws of sympathy and motion,
Chains affinities have bound,-

These we dimly sought, while o'er us
Hung the terrors of the tomb,
And with rack and stake before us,
Tested in the prison's gloom,
We the mighty secrets sounded,
Riper thought revealed to time,
And the wondrous hopes we founded
Live-realities sublime.

Wingéd seeds! in faith and weeping
Cast o'er unbelieving earth-
Races gather to the reaping,

Nations share the harvest mirth!
Yes! we left our sign and traces
On the days that stole away,
They who rose to fill our places
Took the clue up where it lay.
Yet we speak in silent chambers,
From the long dim years behind,
When the lamp shines o'er his labours,
To the student's listening mind.
Time the wrongs of Life hath righted,
Death hath made th' imperfect whole;
Height and Deep our God hath lighted,
Raised, redeemed, and freed the Soul !

of

WAS WALLENSTEIN GUILTY?

THE period of the Thirty Years was the most melancholy of all those chronicled in the pages of Germany's history, not alone through its external ruinous result, but also by its disastrous effect on the morals of the nation. In the foregone century, a deep and holy enthusiasm had seized on the noblest of the land, and aroused a glorious spirit of emulation for the amelioration of the condition of Church and State, and the foundation permanent prosperity. Those solid principles, which kept selfishness at bay, merged into existence, and while the Reformer himself, by the simplicity of his life and his disinterestedness, afforded that rare ensample of virtue which may be traced through his whole career, many of his adherents signalised themselves by their devotion to the cause of the Reformation, and even by joyfully undergoing a martyr's death. No sign of such a spirit was manifest during the whole of the religious war, but the energies of man seemed solely concentrated on self, and the satisfaction of his unbounded covetousness. Many Protestant princes only saw, in the progressive amélioration of the Church, a prospect for their own aggrandisement, and the augmentation of their territory; they ravenously stretched forth their hands on every side to satiate their rapacity, by the confiscation of Church lands, and such an example was not calculated to moderate the selfishness and cupidity of the lower classes. When the religious war broke out, this feeling displayed itself in the Sept.-VOL. XCVI. NO. CCCLXXXI.

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lukewarmness shown by many as to the interests of the common cause, and in the want of active co-operation, which eventually brought the work of reformation to the verge of destruction. Foreign nations mixed themselves up in the war: the system of maintaining Lanzknechts was carried to an immoderate extent, and an anarchical character impressed on the struggle. While the hope of plunder and booty alone caused the mercenaries to take up arms, many leaders continually stimulated their wild bands by the promise of robbery and good cheer. And even when this did not occur, still rich estates, out of the conquered territory, were hinted at as the rewards for action. Greed for money and rank among the Lanzknechts, for territorial aggrandisement and high dignities among their leaders, were, for the most part, the sole enticements to enrol themselves under one banner or the other. Every principle of morality had been so utterly subverted, that it was a frequent occurrence for a mercenary to fight against his own creed, although mentally avowing it. In Friedland's army there was a whole mass of Protestants, who served the duke or the emperor most zealously, and employed their utmost efforts to overthrow the Suedo-German party, and, consequently, the Reformation itself.

Albert of Wallenstein was not the man to raise himself above this universal corruption of the age; indeed, he was as much subjugated by the promptings of selfishness as the lowest mercenary in his army. It is true, he never degenerated to sordid covetousness, but was frequently (of course, for the furtherance of his own designs) remarkably liberal; but he recognised nothing beyond his own interest, which could impel him to action: fellow-feeling, love of his fatherland, the prosperity of his country, were to him words without meaning-virtues in which he placed no belief. He certainly struggled with and combated difficulties, privations, and dangers; but then it was only for his own advantage.

In

This the whole history of his life proved. Although he employed a large portion of his private fortune in the service of the emperor, still his riches ever grew with his years. We must not forget to add that, as is frequently the case, the more his fortune increased, the less was he satisfied. After his landed property had been enormously extended, he raised it to the value of several millions; and when he had been so far successful, he did not rest till he had secured a princely revenue. his ambition he displayed a like want of moderation. After he had been raised to the rank of count, he directed his wishes towards a princely mantle; and after being invested with this, he aspired, through the possession of the duchy of Mecklenburg, to the enjoyment of actual and independent sovereign authority. Through his mighty fortune accustomed to pomp; through his military position, to unbounded domination; through the homage paid him by crowned heads, to a rank equal to theirs; called by the emperor himself "uncle;" by the King of France, "cousin," he could not longer support the idea of being a subject; and the choice was left him between utter ruin, and taking his place by the side of the princes of the empire as an independent sovereign.

If, then, the accusation against Albert of Wallenstein is grounded on the fact of his aspiring to the Bohemian throne, his feelings and principles, behaviour and actions, and finally, his conduct during the whole course of his life, justify us in deeming him capable of entertaining such designs.