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purer character; the one, a "Monody on Sheridan," and the other, of far greater merit, a tale, entitled "The Prisoner of Chillon;" founded upon an incident in the history of the Reformation, and the establishment of the Helvetic independence.

the best performances of the noble author, and would have been better, if, when imitating Walter Scott, his lordship had adopted that writer's cautious attention to the harmonic construction of his verse. But it would have been still more to the advantage of the right honourable poet, if he had pursued a similar course with the favoured minstrel of the north, who has secured to himself a

While in this romantic country, Lord Byron also sketched that wild dramatic piece, entitled "Manfred," the idea of which suggested itself to his imagination in a visit to the Jung-lasting reputation, by the morality, as fraw, one of the most awful of the Glaciers, near the lake of Thuan. This poem, however, is indebted for some of its finest passages, to the author's subsequent travels in Italy, and particularly his visit to Rome, the principal antiquities of which city are here beautifully described.

well as the elegance, of his compositions. Had Lord Byron been equally careful of the character of his works, he would have spared his admirers the necessity of blushing for the gross indecency of his tale of "Don Juan;" the sprightliness of which renders the poison infinitely dangerous. It is little to the credit of the noble author of this most licentious production, that he should have persisted in continuing the story in the same prurient and immoral strain, after finding that his piece had excited but one sentiment of disgust in all enlightened and liberal minds. This contempt for public opinion is as demonstrative a proof of the overbearing pride of intellect, as the work itself is of a total want of delicate feeling. But this was not all; for, as if the noble lord had resolved to cast off all concern about the appear

On leaving Switzerland, his lordship made Venice his principal residence; and it was there that he put the finishing hand to his "Childe Harold," in a fourth canto, exhibiting similar inequalities to the preceding parts, but surpassing them in classical descriptions, the best of which is, the picture of the Coliseum, with the story of the Gladiator. This publication was preceded by a short poem, entitled 66 Tasso's Lament," written on visiting the lunatic hospital, in which that great man was so long confined at Ferrara. Soon after this ap-ance of virtue, he worked up his own peared, without a name, Beppo," a Venetian tale, written in an uncommonly whimsical style, somewhat after the manner of the facetious but licentious Wolcott, commonly called Peter Pindar.

66

Hitherto the genius of the noble lord appeared in deeply impassioned expression, in variegated description, and poetical but gloomy abstraction; here, on the contrary, it is all so airy, laughable, and pantomimic, as to excite more than a suspicion that the bitter complainings which pervade his other productions had no reality.

It is evident, however, that the sufferings of his mind, whatever they might be, had not absorbed the powers of his imagination, or made him indifferent to the love of fame; for, to shew the versatility of his talent, and to rival the most popular poets of the day, he produced another romantic tale, entitled "Mazeppa," being the history of a remarkable Cossack chief, attached to the cause of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. This is one of

history, and that of his family, in the adventures of Don Juan, though, when guilty of the same error in his former poem, he affected to be much hurt that Childe Harold should be taken for any thing but an ideal personage.

Now Don Juan is described as being a far more profligate character than the Childe, or at least he is made to go through a more detailed career of vice; and yet it is impossible to separate the author from this creature of his poetic fancy, for he has taken special care to imbody, in the narrative, his own early life, travels, and opinions. The principal scenes, no doubt, are fictious, but the moving agent is drawn from reflection, and intended as a lively portraiture; the consequence of which is obvious, that in the estimation of the poet, neither is seduction a crime, nor a promiscuous intercourse of the sexes any violation of the law of nature; for no moral writer would have exhibited such a sketch of himself as must induce the

conclusion, that, though far from being guilty to the extent which he describes, he did not think it disgraceful to be thought capable of it.

The sentence of reprobation, so completely passed by the general voice upon "Don Juan" and "Cain," is a cheering proof that the British Some novelists, indeed, as Smol-nation still possesses a sense of prolett and Goldsmith, have given an outline of part of their own history in the adventures of their heroes; but no one before Lord Byron ever thought of throwing the prominent actions of his life into the form of an immoral romance; and in so doing, the author has clearly evinced an utter disrespect for the judgment of the world.

priety and respect for sound principles. The popularity of the noble poet has given him a dangerous extent of influence, and it is to be feared that many are so fascinated by the power of his genius, as to be wilfully blind to his obliquities. Still it is, perhaps, fortunate, upon the whole, that by his last publications he has contributed to undeceive some of those who were before inclined to extenuate his errors; and to put others upon their guard, who might otherwise be led astray by the splendour of a

name.

That Lord Byron is a great poet, cannot be questioned. His invention is uncommonly fertile, and his conceptions are frequently sublime, and always original; he has a complete mastery of language, and is extremely happy in the power of description. But he generally betrays too much haste in composition, whence his versification is frequently harsh and prosaic, defective in grammar as well as in rhythm. As one instance out of a thousand, take the following from his last poem, where he makes Abel thus express himself, in the prayer which he offers before his sacrifice.

The noble lord having exerted his powers in different pieces of poetic composition, was now ambitious of trying the vigour of his genius in the dramatic art. His first attempt in this line was a tragedy, taken from a circumstance in the history of Venice; but "Marino Faliero," the title of his play, is defective in every thing requisite to theatrical effect, nor does it read at all better in the closet. More from the popularity of the name, than from a conviction of its merit, this piece was produced on the stage, bat without answering the expectations of the manager, who deserved his ill success by exacting the play, contrary to the wishes of the author. Notwithstanding this depression, Lord Byron brought forward three more dramas; "The Two Foscari," founded on another portion of the Venetian annals; "Sardanapalus," taken from ancient history; and "Cain, a Mystery." Of these productions, little can be said in their praise, as poems, for though sprinkled with some beau- Attempts have been made to injure tiful passages, the general effect is the reputation of the noble poet, by heavy, and uninteresting. Lord By-charging him with plagiarism, and ron's genius is ill adapted for dramatic some Zoilus of the day has taken the writing, since in none of his perform-pains of gathering a number of pasances does the poet succeed in touch-sages from his works, for the purpose ing the heart. He aims at raising of finding parallels to them in other wonder, but he never excites sym-writers of ancient and modern date. pathy.

With respect to the "Mystery of Cain," the public judgment has already been so decisive, that any lengthened remarks upon the subject of so scandalous a publication, would be a revival of the deed. The poetical peer, in his spleen, calls this "an age of cant;" and knowing what he means by that phrase, a higher compliment we think could not well be paid to the times in which we live, and the country to which we have the happiness to belong.

"But yet accept it for

The thanksgiving of him who spreads it in
The face of high heaven."

But all this was the effect of envy and malice. Pope suffered in the same manner; and there is hardly a name of eminence in the literary world, that has not been attacked in a similar spirit, from old Homer to Milton.

Well would it be, if Lord Byron's faults consisted only in borrowing poetical beauties and elucidations; for in that case he might justify himself by the example of Virgil, whose immortal epic is indebted for much of its story, and many of its sublimities, to the Iliad and the Odyssey. Unhap¬

pily, the delinquencies of the noble author are of a deeper dye, and more pernicious character, than that of literary picking and stealing. His moral failings are perceptible in all his writings; and it is but too plain that this licentiousness is connected with the darkest infidelity. There is a great similarity, in this respect, between the English peer, and his admired author, Voltaire; for though Lord Byron is not equal to the Frenchman in variety of talent, he is superior to him in poetry; and, like him, he has perverted a fine genius to the destruction of principles, and the depravation of manners. As Voltaire, in his exile at Ferney, appeared ambitious of standing at the head of the free thinkers of his time, whose object was to overthrow religion; so, according to accounts, Lord Byron, in his retreat at Pisa, is engaged in forming a school of sceptics, who, it seems, are to club their wits in a journal, for the dissemination of what they are pleased to term liberal opinions.

The chief of this new academy has evinced a spirit ill adapted to the office of conducting a miscellaneous work of this description; and if we are to judge by his lordship's controversy with Mr. Bowles,-on the character of Pope, and the properties of genuine poetry, he wants the taste, acumen, and candour, necessary for literary criticism.

MISSIONARY INTELLIGENCE.

W.

Extract of a Letter from the Bay of Islands, New Zealand, November 24th, 1821.

weeks, and latterly without food or water, except sea water, which they were obliged to drink. Contrary winds drove them from their own island, and the Lord protected and guided them to these islands. Maupiti was the first they could make, although they tried Baratie and Borabora. They were exceedingly astonished at the difference of customs; and when they heard of the new system of religion, and worshipping the true God, they were convinced of its propriety, and immediately began to learn to read. When they came hither, there were about twenty-five persons, men, women, and children. We set apart a certain time for their instruction, and gave them in charge to our deacons, who paid every attention; and their language being different from ours, they could make themselves better understood. Auura, their chief, and his wife, paid great attention, but the generality of the others were slothful. Auura seemed to appreciate the worth of knowledge, and the value of the good tidings of salvation. His attention and questions were such as surprised both us and the natives;-we think his judgment acute, and, although we do not call him a converted character, we have evidence he is a convert from idolatry. God hath called them out of darkness, into the knowledge of his only begotten Son:-may they soon really know him, whom to know is life eternal!

The brig Hope, from London, Captain Grimes, touched here on July 3d; and on our mentioning to him our wish to get these poor people to their own island, he, with a readi "It was on March the 8th last, we ness which does him the highest cresaw at sea a strange sail, which made dit, offered immediately to touch at towards the reef, and appeared to be their island, and take our boat in tow, determined to hazard the running on that we might have an opportunity, the reef, instead of bearing up for the should our boat return from this yet proper harbour; a practice resorted to unknown land, to open a communicaby the natives when in extremity. tion with the natives. Auura, their Perceiving their imminent danger, the chief, and his wife, were sent for; chiefs manned our boats, and went off they were delighted; but he raised an to pilot the strangers into the proper objection to going to his land of darkharbour. When arrived, we foundness, unless he had some one with they were natives of the island called Rurutu, but Oheteroa in the charts, 150° 51′ E. 22° 39′ S. They had come from Maupiti, touched on their way at Borabora, but could not get in for the contrary winds. They had been drifted about at sea for three No. 44-VOL. IV.

him to instruct him and his people. What to do, we knew not. We immediately called the deacons, and informed them of the circumstance, directing them to inquire who would volunteer to go as teachers to that poor people. We assembled the church, 3 G