Hand locked in hand, eyes deep fixed on eyes,
And breast to breast, feeling each other's heart
Pulse against mutual bosoms full of peace.
We told each other every thought we had,
Fresh as it sprang; and if one ceased
To look upon the other we have wooed
The vagrant eyes until they met again.
And if one smiled, the other, also smiled:
One feeling flowed through both our youthful breasts.
We roved the fields together, and the birds
Sounded to both alike. Her name e'en now
Revives within me every bygone scene,
With all its music crowding on my heart.
I see them all, like to a flash of thought
Which in an old man's memory lights up
The scenes of early youth: now all are gone.
Or as I once remember, in a storm,

When the dark clouds dashed fiercely at the earth,
A flash of lightning laid the whole plain bare;
Tower, hill, and village spire stood out in light,
But in an instant all was dark again.
Well, we were torn apart by daily life,
And parted ne'er to see each other more!
But she was ever music to my thought,
And I have often moved myself to tears
By musing on her form, which grew divine
Beneath the sanctifying power of love.
Full twelve years afterward I chanc'd to stray
With a young fellow-student, till we found
Ourselves within a churchyard. Ah!' said he,
In this secluded spot a gentle form

Is slowly mingling with the common dust:
She was the bosom friend of a dear sister,
Herself now gone to rest. This gentle girl
Was full to bursting of all beauteous thoughts,
And fair as she was gentle.' I was moved
By the deep pathos of his mournful voice,
And ask'd that he would show me where she slept.
He led the way. I, in prophetic grief,

In silence followed. 'Here,' said he, 'she rests.'
I look'd, and darkness came— [after a pause]
for 'twas her grave."

We now pass over several scenes. Leonhard, in due time, is married to Bertha, who thus becomes "the blind wife." A year is now supposed to elapse, and the fourth act presents us to Count Leonhard in his study. From what our readers must have already learned of his character, they will not be surprised to find that "a change has come over the spirit of his dream"-for dream it may well be called, inasmuch as he is constantly craving for ideal happiness, instead of enjoying the substantial good in his possession;

we now find him heartily tired of that which he thought would be untiring happiness, calling his marriage ill-starred, and exclaiming, in bitterness of soul

"How soon

I felt that helpless creature was a task.”

And why? not only on account of the irksomeness of that which he felt to be a task, but because another object had arisen to draw him aside. He thus continues

"Now Julia is indeed a noble prize;

She's worth the winning, and the wearing too.
Her form is not perhaps so faultless as
The shape of Bertha, and her voice may want
The silver tones of that meek paragon;

Yet she's a woman that a king might love,
And glory in his conquest."

This Julia is a friend of his wife on a visit to them, and while thus soliloquizing she enters with a message from Bertha, requesting him to join her in the music room, which he receives pettishly; and she also tells him of her intention to return immediately to her home at Heidelberg, and leaves with him a letter from her brother, in which he requests her to return speedily, as he has a rich young nobleman staying with him. This rouses the jealous feelings of Leonhard, and he discloses, in the few lines which finish this scene, his love for Julia-his vanity in supposing she may return his passion-and his first outspoken wish that he was free from Bertha :

"But I must first to this meek wife of mine.

Oh, that she were an angel-not a woman!"

He seeks and finds his wife, who, sitting alone, is taking a retrospective view of the conduct of Leonhard towards her-our readers will admire the truthfulness of the whole passage-and, overcome by the thought which forces itself upon her, she cannot help exclaiming

"I have lived too long. O dreary days to come!

And drearier years."

Leonhard, finding her thus and in tears, reproaches her; the dialogue now becomes painfully interesting, as both discover that love, which, if possessed, enables the possessors to bear the most untoward lot without repining, has fled :

"Yes (says Bertha), now I know it all; your love is bent Beneath the load, and duty has been forced

To spur the jaded spirit to its task!

Oh, Leonhard! I feel I've lived too long."

She entreats him not to show his displeasure before Julia, and they part, after agreeing to walk together in the afternoon. The gradual decline of the Count's love to his wife is well shown to the reader in a scene between Julia, now about leaving, and Emmeline, the attendant on Lady Bertha.

We now hurry on to the close of the first part of the history of

an ungoverned and uncontrolled spirit. Let the reader pieture to himself a retired part of the lady's domains. The sun is just about to sink beneath the western horizon; the noble river is seen flowing majestically-a broad stream of light-all seems peace in heaven and calm on earth. The Count and Bertha, after crossing enamelled lawns, and passing groves of clustering trees, arrive at the favourite spot, near the brow of a precipice which commands a glorious prospect; its shadow stretches out to some distance, having the appearance of a huge cavern at its base; beyond, all is glorious, all is beautiful; and here, standing near its edge, Bertha recalls the memory of their first exchange of happy vows. The whole scene is drawn with a master's hand, and we would willingly transcribe it; but we trust our readers will judge for themselves, by perusing the whole poem. We cannot, however, give the conclusion in any other than the poet's words. Leonhard, who seems to be aroused from thoughts which scorch the brain, turns to his wife:

"What was it that you said, my dearest Bertha ?—
Oh! that you wish'd to sit where once I told you
The history of Fair Rosamond! We'll go.
We are not near the spot; so you can walk
Forward in safety. On, I'll follow you.

BERTHA.

Follow close to me, dearest Leonhard.
Come, sweetest, follow me!

LEONHARD.

Oh, God! she's fallen o'er the precipice !"

And is this the conclusion of unsanctified knowledge, and unbridled passion? Yes, reader, such are the workings of the human heart : and many, who shudder at the bare relation of a tale like this, would, without doubt, if they had been left to themselves, have sunk into the same depths of crime.

We would willingly follow the poet in his second part of this sad eventful history; and the more so because he has well shown, that as surely as night follows in the train of day, so surely does a man's sin find him out. Leonhard murders his wife; true, he does not lay his hand upon her, but he slays her with a lie. And although the world knows it not-though he was pitied by all, as one suffering from the marvellous dealings of Providence, he knew-and nothing could banish from him the knowledge of the evil he had done. Is he sorry? Does he repent? No. After the lapse of a few years, during which he had married Julia, we are introduced to him again in his study and alone. He had been secking rest and finding none; remorse had been gnawing away his heart; visions of horror had parched and scathed his brain; and we would, did space allow, show our readers, in his case, how the spirit of evil rewards his votaries. Some may object to this our belief; but we firmly maintain, that knowledge, genius, and all the world calls good and desirable, if not devoted to the Giver of all good gifts, and accompanied with a loving heart, proves only, like the apples of Jordan, pleasant to the

sight, but dust and ashes within: this is fully exemplified in Leonhard's character. He might have been a noble soul; but with a morbid conceit, too common to the present age, he supposes the government of God to be wrong, and raves at the misery and oppression he sees around, instead of humbly endeavouring to add his quota to the happiness of his fellow man; for the mere flinging a coin to a sturdy beggar cannot be called charity, nor the attempt to screen a fellow criminal love. We know not how to make an extract from this part of the poem, by which to give the reader an adequate idea of the great power of the author in pourtraying the truth of the wise man's saying, "A wounded conscience who can bear!" No one unaided can bear it; and here we find the strong man broken down, and crying for mercy, yet in such a spirit of pride that he finds it not; and at last, in dark despair and furious madness, leaps from the precipice over which his wife had fallen, throwing away his body-the work of Deity-as a useless thing, and plunging his soul into an eternity which he dreaded, to escape-how vainly!from the gnawings of the worm within. The body of the Count is found next day by his retainers, and his wife and all the servants believe him to have met with an accident in a too thoughtful mood. We do not know why the author has chosen this course, unless as a severe hint, that many a man who dies lamented, and over whose corpse is raised a marble panegyric, is as great or greater criminal than he who dies by the hand of justice. We take our leave of this work by recommending its perusal to our readers, who, although they will not find it faultless, will find a poem of extraordinary power and beauty, and which will amply repay them for their study.

Elements of Christian Theology. By George Tomline, D.D., F.R.S., Lord Bishop of Winchester. Fourteenth Edition; with additional Notes, and a Summary of Ecclesiastical History. By Henry Stebbing, D.D. London: Cadell. 1843.

BISHOP TOMLINE's truly valuable manual of "Christian Theology" was first published in 1799-forty-five years since; and the demand for repeated editions abundantly attests that it is as useful as ever it was. The present edition is both beautifully and accurately printed; and it is further enriched by the addition of numerous notes by the editor, the Rev. Dr. Stebbing, which are designed to point out to the student fresh sources of information on many important subjects. His discourse on ecclesiastical history exhibits a lucid summary of the great events in the history of the Christian Church, which cannot fail of being very serviceable to students, whom it will prepare for the future perusal of the larger ecclesiastical histories of Mosheim (edited by Murdock and Soames) and of Milner; which last has ably been continued and brought down to the eighteenth century by Dr. Stebbing.

Bishop Tomline's work is in the list of books recommended by most, if not all of the Bishops, to the candidates for holy orders; who cannot too early possess themselves of the present beautiful and greatly improved edition.

SEELEY AND BURNSIDE'S TRACTS.

1. Tractarianism compared with the Prayer Book.

2. A Review of Professor Sewell's Christian Morals. By Henry Walter, B.D., F.R.S.

3. Thady Brady's Memorial; or, an Account of the System of United Instruction in the Irish National Schools.

4. On the Agency of Satan as the Author of Evil. By a Member of the Church of England.

5. A Short Story for Rich or Poor. Extracted from "The Baroness." 6. A Few Plain Words on the Second Coming of Christ.

7. Armageddon; or, the War of Opinion.

8. A Letter to the Bishops of the Church of England, on the necessity of Liturgical Adjustment, arising from the Principles and Practice of the School of Tractarian Theology.

THE two rival Church bookselling establishments, for the publication of tracts of a most opposite character, are those of Mr. Burns, for the Oxford school, and Messrs. Seeley, Burnside, and Seeley, for the Record, or, more properly speaking, for the Calvinistic school. Hence we receive in the course of the month, generally speaking, a batch of tracts, or small publications, from both of these houses, and we often find much to please us in both the one and the other. We know very well that there are some young and conceited, as well as some old and prejudiced people, who would not "deign to notice" either Mr. Burns' small publications on the one hand, or Messrs. Seeley and Burnside's tracts on the other. Their notions of consistency, truth, and straightforwardness would lead to read the one and to burn the other, or vice versa. Honest and fair criticism they call "see-sawing"-and the vid media, between the two extremes, they designate "namby-pambyism." The truth, however, is, that these men have not the spirit either of fairness or of love, and seek only party ends, without regard to what saith the Scripture. We are not then disposed, in any respect, to alter our course. That course is, and has been, to praise that which we deem wise and good, and to condemn that which we deem erroneous, whether it reaches us in Mr. Burns' parcel, or in Messrs. Seeley's packet. Both often contain some excellent thoughts-both often also contain some extreme views. We shall hope to remember the one, and to point out the other; and in so doing, though our publication may not be acceptable to certain young country vicars, who think that "the Church," forsooth, consists in signs, forms, and ceremonies, it will be both welcomed by, and useful to, those who seek for truth with all their hearts, and are rejoiced when they find it.

No. 1 is a clever little tract, in which what the Prayer Book teaches, what the Romish Church declares, and what Tractarianism teaches, are placed in juxta-position. These tests are applied to "the Rule of Faith"to" Purgatory" to "the Invocation of