"Now blest with all the wealth fond hope could crave, is hardly worthy of its name; however, it has a tives among whom he fell, treated him kindly, as convenient summer-house, and is a pleasant retreat is noticed in the Lusiad. In speaking of his lost for a hot summer's eve. The scenery altogether property, he feelingly says: is romantic and charming.. An ornamented niche now encloses the identical spot where Camoens sat, while the rocky seat itself is decorated with a bronze bust of the poet, upon the base of which, in letters of bold relief, are the records of his birth and death. It may very reasonably be made a question whether it were not better to leave all such spots, rendered notable by the renowned of past ages, just as the occupants themselves left them. The retreat of Camoens at present, wears altogether a different aspect to what it did in the days when the "poet hallowed the spot ;" and the attempted improvements, though well meant, go far to violate our preconceived associations of thought. This spot is often visited by foreigners resident at Macao, who are permitted free access to the garden; and by Mr. Davis, formerly among their number, some neatly written Latin verses were composed on it. These, as they have several times been published, we omit; but instead of the original, we introduce a translation made by the Rev. Mr. Taylor, who visited Macao in May 1839, as chaplain of the United States' frigate Columbia. Among these recesses of rock and of shade, Where the sun's mild beams on the rich foliage played, But time with its years has betrayed the fair trust, So ever lives genius through time's crumbling power, My life, like Judah's heaven-doomed king of yore, After undergoing numerous other difficulties, he felt, what at one time he never expected to feel, pantings for home; and he returned to Lisbon. His Lusiad was not published till 1572. It was dedicated to king Sebastian, who took a lively interest in the gifted author. But the king did not long live to protect him. In the demise of the monarch, all the fond hopes and resources of Ca moens were forever blasted. He was now reduced to extreme poverty, so much so that an attached servant, who had lived with him many years, was seek a subsistence for his master. Though in so compelled to beg from door to door in order to destitute a condition, almost on the borders of the tomb, his genius for poetry still existed, bright and powerful; and it is said that he wrote some lyric poems which contained bitter and moving comcountry, disregarded and slighted by many, came plaints. This man of talents, the hero of his to his end in the year 1579, in the hospital at Lisbon. No monument told the passing stranger of his worth, till fifteen years after his decease. Now, however, a splendid one perpetuates his memory. The Lusiad celebrates the great voyage of Vasco de Gama, in which he discovered the passage to the East Indies, around the Cape of Good Hope. That brilliant achievment laid the train of those mighty events which now link together so intimately the Eastern and Western hemispheres. Although the Lusiad has been termed the 'Epic poem of Commerce;' yet the developments of those discoveries which it describes, are no less interesting to the Christian philanthropist than to the Christian merchant. After some patriotic addresses to Portugal and her princes, the poem opens with Vasco and his fleet, appearing on the ocean between the Ethiopian coast and the island of Madagascar. "Right on they steer by Ethiopia's strand "Where black-topt islands, to their longing eyes Laved by the gentle waves in prospect rise." From here they But to return to the life of Camoens. He lived happily and contentedly in Macoa during the space of five years; during which time he visited some of the islands of the Indian Archipelago, and amassed a small fortune. Wishing to add to it, he freighted a ship and embarked in her for Goa; but, ever doomed to misfortune, he was shipwrecked near the river Mekon in Camboja. His little all perished in the waters, and on setting his foot on the unknown shore he found himself pos- the Latin name of Portugal, who, Pliny says, was a com*Os Lusíados in the original,-Lusiadis, from Lesus, sessed of nought but his poem, which fortunately panion of Bacchus, and who founded a colony in Lusitana he saved by holding it with one hand above the (Portugal.) billows whilst swimming to the shore. The na Eastward steer for happier climes; "A fleet of small canoes the pilot spied." + Sce Mickle's translation. After many fruitless endeavors to effect a land- although he celebrates the voyage of his hero as ing on the African coast, they are finally welcomed, a Christian enterprise against Mohammedanism. and hospitably entertained, by the swarthy chief' Blair, in his analysis, points out several defects in of Melinda. Vasco relates to the chieftain the the Lusiad. It has been translated into many of adventures of his voyage, and recites an historical the European languages, and has been received account of Europe, and especially of Portugal. with great popularity. Voltaire's criticisms have He tells the astonished king of a huge and terrific been shown by Mickle to be perfectly absurd and monster, which appeared to the fleet amidst storms unjust. One of the best editions in the original and thunders, while doubling the Cape of Good language is that published by J. M. S. Borelho, Hope. With a peering head, which reached the 1809. The first English translation was by Sir clouds, and a countenance of terror, this mighty Richard Fanshaw, English ambassador to the court ocean-phantom ordered Vasco to lead back his of Lisbon, in 1655, but it is said to be by no means invading fleet, and with fearful menaces proclaimed faithful. Mickle's translation of 1776 is very himself as sole guardian of those unnavigated spirited, and no doubt fairly accurate. Of the vaseas. After telling them of the woful calamities rious French translations of the Lusiad, that by J. which would befall them if they dared to advance, B. F. Millie, Paris, 1825, in 2 vols., is said to be he with a mighty noise disappeared beneath the the best. There are four Spanish, and two Italian raging water. This is regarded by Mickle and translations of the Lusiad. It was translated into Blair as one of the finest and most striking conceptions of which epic poetry can boast. Leaving Africa, the poem confines itself to the adventures and distresses of the voyagers, their landing and excursions on the coast of Malabar, and finally their return homeward. Referring to the voyagers, now homeward bound, the poet exclaims in these beautiful lines, How sweet to view their native land, how sweet How sweet to tell what woes, what toils they bore, The following apostrophe to the realms of the Indus and the Ganges, embodies true poetic description, as well as characteristic beauty. "Vast are the shores of India's wealthful soil; By various names through various tribes are known; That Camoens should so frequently associate Christian and Pagan ideas is a source of just censure-often giving to the latter the preeminence," VOL. VI-104 Latin by Thomas de Faria, bishop of Targa in Africa; but in what year we are not informed. A learned Jew named Luzzetto, who died in the Holy Land, is said to have translated it into Hebrew with great elegance. Memoirs of the life and writings of Camoens were published in London, in 2 volumes, in 1820, by John Adamson. Macao, China, May, 1840. CHANGE AND DECAY. BY WM. G. HOWARD. I. Where the famed Tiber gaily flows, In majesty sublime; Her glittering domes, and templed hills, Crowned her the Queen of Time! II. Proud mistress of a conquered world! Pleasure, false as the meteor bright In that proud realm was sought; Centuries since then have rolled away, Of dread Eternity! V. The lovely spot-mount, vale, and wood, The traveller may find; But of those works of peerless grace, But few are left behind. VI. Her stately pride, her pomp and power, Have faded quite away; The whooping owlet plumes her wings, The Poet's living lyre is crushed, On the same spot seems lingering, VIII. The sounds of merriment are o'er, The bright, the beautiful, the brave, IX. Spirit of change, to thee we bow! Earth's beauties to erase; No fitful change efface! Chilicothe, Ohio, October 1840. me, REPLY TO SOME REMARKS ON SHELLEY, a famous poet maltreat or abandon his wife, it is because forsooth his imaginative temperament is inconsistent with domestic happiness. In this way those high faculties with which God has endowed a few of his creatures, and which enable them the more readily to discern truth from error, and vice from virtue, are made to serve as excuses for outrageous deviations from correct sentiment and virtuous conduct. The truth is that, repine as we may, men of genius are formed of the same clay with ordinary mortals, subject to the same infirmities, and alas! too often debased by the same vices. In bestowing on them the meed of praise, or inflicting the lash of censure, we should, as in all other cases, make due allowance for the peculiar temptations to which they have been exposed; but never should we regard them as privileged to scorn the general sentiinents of mankind, and undermine those great principles of morality and religion on which individual and social happiness must rest. Whilst we should be careful to abstain from exposing every weakness that may have dimmed the lustre of departed greatness, we must never permit a few flashes of generosity or kindness, or even the habitual display of those qualities, to outweigh in the estimate of character a systematic and persevering hostility to the very basis of virtue itself. It appears to me, that admiration of Shelley's talents, and of the gentle manners, generosity and courage which he is admitted to have possessed, has blinded Mr. T. to those circumstances in his life and opinions, which deservedly stained his reputation and made his influence pernicious. From the first paragraph of his remarks in the Messenger, it would be inferred that he was going to speak of one of the purest, most gifted, and most unexcep tionable beings that had "ever lighted on this lower orb." "It is now about eighteen years since the waters of the Mediterranean closed over one of the most delicately organized, and richly endowed beings of our era. A scion of the English aristocracy, the nobility of his soul threw far into the shade all conventional distinctions; while his views of life and standard of action, were infinitely broader and more elevated than the narrow limits of caste. Highly imaginative, susceptible, and brave, even in boyhood he reverenced the honest convictions of his own mind above success or authority. With a deep thirst for knowledge he cal in his taste, truth was the prize for which he most earunited a profound interest in his race. Highly philosophinestly contended; heroical in his temper, freedom he regarded as the dearest boon of existence; of a tender and ardent heart, love was the grand hope and consolation of his being, while beauty formed the most genial element of his existence.” In the Southern Literary Messenger, for June 1840. MR. EDITOR-It has been a matter of some surprise to that the article on Shelley in your June number has not excited the wrath of some of those, who have recently undertaken to watch with dragon-like vigilance over the moral purity of your popular periodical. In expressing my surprise at their forbearance, I by no means intend to cen- No one who had never before heard of Shelley, could besure you for the insertion of the article; the task of rejec-lieve after reading this language, that the man thus eulogition is at all times a delicate one, and I do not blame you zed, entertained and acted on through life two at least of for not undertaking it in reference to this contribution. the principles propagated by the mad Owen, to wit, that Neither is it my purpose to say any thing personally offen- marriage and religion are among the principal sources of sive of Mr. Tuckerman, who, I am assured, is a man of human vice and misery; that he had been expelled from an excellent character, and whom his writings in the Messen- English university for a labored written argument in deger alone prove to be an author of genius. But I feel it to fence of Atheism; that he had carried out his anti-matrimobe a duty to enter my solemn protest against the views nial doctrines by abandoning his wife for another woman, which he has taken of Shelley's character and conduct, and thus driving the former to suicide; that he had once, and against some of the reasonings by which those views in defiance of public opinion, and every idea of decency, are supported. Mr. T. has been, as it appears to me, in-endeavored to force a female of tarnished reputation into duced to consider the eccentricities, and so-called indepen-close and familiar intercourse with ladies of character. I dence of genius, as a sufficient cloak for the most danger- do not pretend to be minutely acquainted with the details ous opinions, and for such actions as are their necessary consequences. This gross error has often converted the biographies of literary men into mere eulogies or apologies, which give us no clear idea of their lives and characters. If a distinguished writer or philosopher openly and violently assail the most sacred principles of morality and religion, we are told, that the soarings of his sublime intellect cannot be chained down to the dogmas of the vulgar creed. If of his life, having never read his letters recently published; but I rely confidently on the general facts already stated, and admitted by his warmest admirers, to prove that his early and melancholy fate is to be lamented only, because it cut him off from an opportunity of devoting his high talents to nobler objects than he had hitherto pursued. A few extracts from Shelley, will satisfy those of your readers who are not already acquainted with his character, Does any man deserve the admiration and gratitude of his race, who would thus, as far as in him lies, snatch from them the only sure Anchor of hope and safety amid the storms of life? Does not his belief, that the general reception of his soul-chilling creed would benefit mankind, indicate a credulity greater than can be found in the humblest follower of Christianity, and an arrogance greater than that of the proudest prelate who ever trampled on the necks of prostrate heretics? that these statements are no exaggerations. Before I pro- prehensible, but loving destiny, whose decrees are irreverceed to make those extracts however, I must question the sible, and which annihilates the distinction between virtue correctness of Mr. T.'s position, that "opinions are not in and vice. This doctrine is set forth in the text of Queen themselves legitimate subjects of moral approbation or cen- Mab in the following explicit language. "There is no sure." I will not dwell on the obvious fact that the estab- God," and in a very long and elaborate note commencing lishment of such a principle would be an annihilation of all with the following paragraph: "This negation must be unreligion, of which belief must form an essential part. Com-derstood solely to affect a creative Deity. The hypothesis mon sense points out the inseparable connexion between of a Pervading Spirit co-eternal with the universe, remains opinion and action on every subject. You cannot pre- unshaken," &c. serve the stream pure, while the fountain is reeking with These sentiments are reiterated, although with less clearimpurity; neither can you consistently hold sentiments in-ness, in the Revolt of Islam, written after the author was nocent, while you censure, and even punish actions which 25 years of age and the father of several children. inevitably flow from them. It is true, that there are a variety of subjects which we are not bound to examine carefully, and on which our opinions are indifferent. But there are others in which investigation is a duty, and on which we are responsible for our conclusions to a Heavenly, if not an earthly tribunal. Nay, if we labor to propagate dangerous sentiments, we may be justly arraigned at the bar of public opinion. Suppose for instance, that a man should form the deliberate opinion that he had a right to murder a fellow-creature, whenever interest or inclination prompted. Can any rational person doubt that he would be morally guilty for even harboring a sentiment, that might at any moment lead to the commission of an atrocious crime? Correct views of moral obligation are essential to practi-ings together. It is a little remarkable that Mr. T. should cal virtue, and all human beings endowed with reason, and willing to exercise it with candor, must agree as to the main cardinal principles by which life should be regulated. Those principles must be independent of the whims of this or that individual, or we should have as many codes of morality as there are beings in existence. To apply this reasoning to the case of Mr. Shelley; he denied the truth of the Christian Revelation. Mr. T. indeed tells us, that Queen Mab, the production of a collegian in his teens, is rather an attack on a creed, than on Christianity." But the two following passages in the notes to that poem, contain Shelley's opinions with more clearness than the text, and will show your readers whether he intended to assail Chris-cal person like me, that he conceived too humbly of his tianity itself. But this is not all. Not only did Shelley, on every occasion which offered itself in his writings, sneer at Christianity and all religion. He tried to weaken, nay to destroy, the sweetest and strongest tie that ever binds human be speak in such terms as these of the matrimonial opinions of the poet. "He fearlessly discussed the subject of marriage, and argued for abolishing an institution, which he sincerely believed perverted the very sentiment upon which it is professedly based." The language which Mr. T. conceives applicable to Shelley's views of this subject, and therefore quotes, is this: "He conceived too nobly for his fellows-he raised the standard of morality above the reach of humanity, and by directing virtue to the most airy and romantic heights, made her paths dangerous, solitary and impracticable." "He conceived too nobly for his fellows!" Now it seems to an unimaginative and unphilosophi fellows, whom he considered incapable of constant affection to one object. But your readers shall have an opportunity of deciding from Mr. Shelley's own words, whether his sentiments on this subject are entitled to blame or com It is impossible to believe that the Spirit, which pervades this infinite machine, begat a son upon the body of a Jewish woman; or is angered at the consequences of that necessity which is a synonyme of itself. All that miser-mendation. In his life we have a letter from which the folable tale of the Devil and Eve and an Intercessor, with the childish mummeries of the God of the Jews, is irreconcilable with the knowledge of the stars. The works of his fingers have borne witness against him." Again, after praising Jesus as a "true hero," on subsequent reflection, he says: "Since writing this note, I have seen reason to suspect that Jesus was an ambitious man, who aspired to the throne of Judea." Again" Analogy seems to favor the opinion, that as, like other systems, Christianity has arisen and augmented so like them it will decay and perish; that as violence, darkness and deceit, not reasoning and persuasion have procured its admission among mankind, so, when enthusiasm has subsided, and time that infallible controverter of false opinions, has involved its pretended evidences in the darkness of antiquity, it will become obsolete." lowing passage is an extract: "I am a young man not of age, and have been married a year to a woman younger than myself. Love seems inclined to stay in the prison, and my only reason for putting him in chains, whilst convinced of the unholiness of the act, was a knowledge, that in the present state of society, if love is not thus villainously treated, she who is most loved will be treated worse by a misjudging world." This is a clear and prosaic expression of the opinions on this point which are often hinted at in his poetry. But even if we admit that these opinions "are not legitimate subjects of moral approbation or blame," what shall we say to their practical exposition at an early period of his career? When very young, he married unsuitably, and soon became tired of his wife. Conceiving that he had a perfect right to rid himself of the incumbrance, he ran off to Switzerland with a Miss Godwin, The youth who in his teens thus openly expresses his daughter of the distinguished author, and Editor of his Letcontempt for the faith of his fathers, that faith which had ters. The poor female whom he had abandoned, and who, been warmly cherished by such dull minds as those of Mil- we are told, was entirely too unintellectual for one of his ton, Locke and Newton, and who not content with a silent ethereal temperament, appears to have possessed acute unbelief, endeavored to propagate his opinions, may seem sensibility. She could not bear the desertion of her husto Mr. T. to have displayed a most praiseworthy indepen- band, and after a year or two of misery put an end to her dence; to me he appears to have been only overweeningly existence. vain, and arrogant. But not satisfied with extinguishing | If an ordinary man, a mechanic, or peasant, had thus dethe mild light of Christianity, this young apostle of reform serted his wife and children, and driven her to self-destrucwould fain have wrapped the human race in the funeral pall tion, we should without hesitation pronounce him a monof Atheism, and have left them nothing but a sort of incom-ster who scarcely belonged to humanity. Shall Shelley's fine-spun theories about emancipating love from its shackles, alter our estimate of conduct on which the common sense and common feeling of mankind have imprinted the stamp of infamy? I will not insult you and your readers by an argument in favor of marriage, as a civil and religious institution. Experience, and reasoning and revelation teach, that without its salutary influence, the baser passions of our nature would convert society into a Pandemonium. No spurious liberality should induce us to laud and lament a gifted being, who turned all his weapons of argument and ridicule against this last citadel of virtue; who sealed the sincerity of his declarations by the desertion and destruction of her, whom he had solemnly promised to love and protect while life lasted. That voice is still the merry one, that mid the sunshine fell loved so well! Before quitting this subject, let us examine another action of Shelley's, the generosity and independence of which Ye are not missed, ye glowing leaves, by the friend ye have been highly applauded, but which, in my opinion, displayed an arrogant defiance of public sentiment, and was only a natural consequence of his opinions about marriage. I refer to an incident, which has been described by Mr. T. in this complimentary style. public ball the scorned victim of seduction, and appal the "He dared to lead forth at a But yet, no fearful fate is yours, no shuddering at decay, away; The Spring-tide, with its singing birds, hath long ago gone hypocritical crowd by an act of true moral courage." Sup- Ye had your time to bloom and live, ye have your time to by die! Ye know not of the mental war that wears the heart away! pose that gentlemen should uniformly imitate this famous act; does not every one see, that one of the strongest bulwarks of virtue would at once be broken down? It may be, O! would that we, the sadder ones, who linger on the earth, that the poor victims of seduction are treated with exces-Like ye, might wither when our lives had parted with their sive harshness, and are too often driven by the very severity mirth: of public censure deeper, and deeper into the abyss of in-Ye glow with beauty to the last and brighten with decay, famy. But while we avoid the extreme of strictness, let us beware of falling into the opposite one of a laxity which would place the pure and the impure on the same level of respect and honor. Experience has demonstrated the propriety, nay the necessity of the line of separation which custom has drawn. Custom when universal among civilized mankind, when it evidently springs from the deliberate convictions of the wise and good, and not from the mere prejudices and prudery of "the hypocritical crowd," is, in spite of Shelley's sneers, a safe standard, which nothing but mad vanity will disregard. Instead of admiring the independence and courage of the poet on the occasion which has been mentioned, we have far better reason to be astonished at the recklessness of decorum which his conduct manifested. It is far from my wish to strip the mantle from the faults of Shelley, and expose them to public detestation. I willingly concede him high genius, and many generous impul ses. But when not content with claiming these qualities, his eulogists publicly hold him up as a model of purity, it seems to me that we should no longer be restrained by forbearance towards the failings of the dead. The memory of those who have left this busy world for another, should not be wantonly assailed. But the sacred cause of morality demands that their sentiments and conduct, when really pernicious, should not be varnished over by delusive sophistry. It is the deep conviction of the danger to be apprehended from thus gilding the dark form of vice with the tinsel of false sentiment and false philosophy, that has induced "one to fame unknown" like myself, to enter the lists with a writer of Mr. T.'s celebrity. My confidence is in the justice of the cause which I have espoused, and not in my powers of argument or eloquence. I feel sure that the passages which I have quoted from Shelley's own writings, must convince every dispassionate reader, that after making every allowance for his redeeming traits, he is a meteor shining to mislead and betray those who are dazzled by its brightness. If I have accomplished this, nothing more is desired by A FRIEND OF VIRTUE. reveal! Watertown, Mass, DEATH HAS CLAIMED HIS FAIR VICTIM. BY C. W. EVEREST. Death has claimed his fair victim in Life's early morn, She hath gone-and no more may we gaze on the brow But so kind was her heart, and so winning her smile— As fadeth at evening some beautiful rose At the withering canker-worm's blight, And the Saviour who loved her so well. O why should we mourn for the righteous, gone, |