"NO MAN'S LABOUR FOR GOOD IS IN VAIN, THOUGH HE WIN NOT THE CROWN, BUT THE CROSS."-R. LYTTON.

Philippe, Duc de Chartres, afterwards the Duc d'Orleans, so well known as Philippe L'Egalité.

MAN'S THE DEED is, the consequence goD's."-ROBERT LYTTON.

"EVERY WISH FOR MAN'S GOOD IS A GAIN; EVERY DOUBT OF MAN'S GAIN IS A LOSS."-ROBERT LYTTON.

"NOT THE PRICE THAT WE BARGAIN TO PAY, BUT THE PRICE THAT SHE SETS ON HERSELF,(ROBERT LYTTON)

THE MERE LOSS OF AN UNTRUTH IS EVER-(ROBERT LYTTON)

HON. ROBERT LYTTON.

Men or beasts? What are they? Mark!
Seest thou? hear'st thou, little child?

Haggard faces: women wild :
Men red-handed, blood-defiled:

Heroism, and hope, and hate,
Hunger, horror, wrath, and crime,
Mingling in the march of fate-
Life's grotesque with love's sublime :
Ragged creatures grim and stark,
Smiling as they never smiled
Till this moment: jaw of shark
Gaping at a drowning ship:
Eye of tiger: lion's grip:

Stormy starvelings, smutched and soiled,
Thick through garden, court, and park,
Round that palace, terrace-piled,
Teeming, tossing, trampling...... Hark!
First a growl, and then a howl,
Voice of a vast tormented soul,
And then a shrill heart-breaking bark,
And now an immense murtherous roar,
Nearer, drearer, more and more,-

The famished wild beast's roar for bread!
Suddenly the child's hand ceased
Its sport among the tiny tresses
Of the little golden head
Backward bent to its caresses;
All those tumbled curls released;
While the pouting child-lips said,
"MOTHER, I AM HUNGRY!"

Cry

Of the poor man's child, supprest

In a people's starving breast

GOOD AS GREAT AS THE GAIN OF A TRUTH."-ROBERT LYTTON.

IS THE VALUE OF TRUTH.

WHO CAN WEIGH WHAT THE WEIGHT OF HER WORTH IS IN PElf!"-robeRT LYTTON.

PLEASURES PALL, IF LONG ENJOYED THEY Be."-LORD LYTTON.

LORD LYTTON.

269

For so many wicked years!

Cry, no law could longer smother
In the lawless, lifeless past!

By what strange revenge of chance
Didst thou thus ascend so high?
From what depths of woe up-cast,
As to smite the heart of a mother,
Heard in the unwilling ears
Of a listening Queen of France,

From a Dauphin's lips at last?

[From "Chronicles and Characters."-The young Dauphin's fate was very pitiful. "He was taken from his mother while she yet lived, and given to one Simon, by trade a cordwainer, on service then about the Temple-Prison, to bring him up in principles of Sansculottism. Simon taught him to drink, to swear, to sing the Carmagnole [a revolutionary song]. Simon is now gone to the Municipality; and the poor boy, hidden in a tower of the Temple, from which in his fright and bewilderment, and early decrepitude, he wishes not to stir out, lies perishing, 'his shirt not changed for six months;' amid squalor and darkness, lamentably,-s -so as none but poor factory children and the like are wont to perish, and not be lamented!"-CARLYLE, French Revolution, ii. 330.]

"NOW LIFE,

WITH EVERY MOMENT, SEEMS TO START IN AIR, IN WAVE, ON EARTH, ABOVE, BELOW."-LYTTON.

"LOVE WARMS WHERE DEATH WITHERS, DEATH BLIGHTS WHERE LOVE BLOOMS."-LORD LYTTON.

Lord Lytton.

(EDWARD George Earle LytTON BULWER is the third son of the late General Bulwer, and of his wife Elizabeth, the only daughter and heiress of Richard Warburton Lytton, of Knebworth, Herts. He was born in May 1805; educated by his mother, a woman of great gifts, and afterwards in private schools; and removed to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, in 1822, where he won the prize medal for the best English poem, graduated as B.A. in 1826, and as M. A. in 1835. He essayed authorship at an early age, but his first work which attracted attention was his "Pelham, or the Adventures of a Gentleman," published in 1827. This brilliant novel has been followed by a series of tales and romances, all more or less successful, all exhibiting great gifts of invention and fancy, considerable learning, an intimate acquaintance with certain phases of society, and the later breathing a very pure and genial spirit. Our space precludes us from quoting their titles or discussing their merits, but we may refer to "The Last Days of Pompeii," "Zanoni," "The Caxtons," and "My Novel," as worthy of

MAN, SAY THE SAGES, HATH A FICKLE MIND."-LORD LYTTON.

OUT ON THIS choice of unrewarded toil,—(lord lyTTON)

ranking with the best works of fiction in the English language, and as likely to hand down their author's fame to our "latest posterity."

Mr. Bulwer entered Parliament in 1831, and acquired distinction as a brilliant and effective debater. On the death of his mother in 1843, he succeeded to the Knebworth estates, and assumed her maiden name of Lytton. He had previously been honoured with a baronetcy (1838). In 1858 he joined Lord Derby's ministry as Secretary of State for the Colonies; and in July 1866 was raised to the peerage as Baron Lytton.

His poetical works, which have been revised and collected in one volume, are-" Milton," "Eva," "The Ill-Omened Marriage," "The New Timon," the epic of "King Arthur” (in twelve books), and numerous minor pieces. In 1866 he published a collection of legends, in imitation of the classic metres, entitled "The Lost Tales of Miletus." He has also translated the "Poems and Ballads of Schiller" (1844); and is the author of several dramas-"The Lady of Lyons" (1838); "Richelieu" (1839); "The SeaCaptain" (1839); "Money" (1840); and "Not so Bad as We Seem" (1851). Respecting his merits as a poet, critics are hopelessly divided. We suspect he will be allowed a higher rank among "the sons of song" by posterity than his contemporaries are willing to allow him.]

"FOR WHAT FALSE GOLD, LIKE ALCHEMISTS, WE YEARN, WASTING THE WEALTH WE NEVER CAN RECALL:

JOY AND LIFE'S LAVISH PRIME, AND OUR RETURN?-ASHES, COLD ASHES, ALL!"-LORD LYTTON.

THE OLD AGE OF MILTON.

[Milton's last years were spent in a house in Artillery Walk, leading to Bunhill Fields,-then an open and pleasant part of London.]

ITS

gay

farewell to hospitable eaves,

The swallow twittered in the autumn heaven;
Dumb on the crisp earth fell the yellowing leaves,
Or, in small eddies, fitfully were driven
Down the bleak waste of the remorseless air.
Out, from the widening gaps in dreary boughs,
Alone the laurel smiled-as freshly fair
As its own chaplet on immortal brows,
When Fame, indifferent to the changeful sun,
Sees waning races wither, and lives on.—
An old man sat before that deathless tree
Which bloomed his humble dwelling-place beside;
The last pale rose which lured the lingering bee
To the low porch it scantly blossomed o'er,
Nipped by the frost-air, had that morning died.

THIS UPWARD PATH INTO THE REALM OF SNOW."- -LORD LYTTON.

64

'COULD YOUTH BUT DREAM WHAT NARROW BURIAL URNS-(LORD LYTTON)

The clock, faint-heard beyond the gaping door,

Low as a death-watch, clicked the moments' knell;
And through the narrow opening you might see

Uncertain footprints on the sanded floor
(Uncertain footprints which of blindness tell);
The rude oak-board, the morn's untasted fare;
The scattered volumes and the pillowed chair,
In which, worn out with toil and travel past,
Life, the poor wanderer, finds repose at last.

"LOOK BACK, HOW ALL THE BEAUTIFUL IDEAL, SPORTING IN DOUBTFUL MOONLIGHT, ONE BY ONE

FADES FROM THE RISING OF THE HARD-EYED REAL, LIKE FAIRIES FROM THE SUN!"-LORD LYTTON.

The old man felt the fresh air o'er him blowing,
Waving thin locks from musing temples pale;
Felt the quick sun through cloud and azure going,
And the light dance of leaves upon the gale,
In that mysterious symbol-change of earth
Which looks like death, though but restoring birth.
Seasons return; for him shall not return
Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn.
Whatever garb the mighty mother wore,
Nature to him was changeless evermore.-

* "Thus with the year

Seasons return, but not to me returns

Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn.

*

Paradise Lost, Book iii.

HOPES THAT WENT FORTH TO CONQUER WORLDS SHOULD HOLD!"-LYTTON.