EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON. EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON, Earl Lytton, pseudonym Owen Meredith, an English poet, only son of the novelist, born at London, Nov. 8, 1831; died at Paris, Nov. 24, 1891. He was educated at Harrow and at Bonn. In 1849 he became attaché at Washington under his uncle, Sir Henry Bulwer. He rose finally to the rank of ambassador at Lisbon in 1874, after a service at Florence, Paris, The Hague, St. Petersburg, Constantinople, Vienna, Athens, Madrid. He also ruled India, as Viceroy (1876-1880). He succeeded to his father's title of Baron Lytton in 1873, and in 1880 was made Earl of Lytton and Viscount Knebworth. In 1887 he was appointed Ambassador to France. His earlier volumes were published under the name of "Owen Meredith:" "Clytemnestra and Other Poems" (1855); "The Wanderer, A Collection of Poems in many Lands" (1857); "Lucile" (1860); "Tannhäuser, or the Battle of the Bards," appeared anonymously in 1861; "Serbski Pesme" (1861) was a translation of Servian songs. His later poems are "Chronicles and Characters" (1868); "Orval, or the Fool of Time" (1869); "Fables in Song" (1874); and "Glenaveril" (1885). He has published in prose an Egyptian Romance, "The Ring of Amasis" (1863); "Julian Fane, a Memoir" (1871); his father's "Speeches and Political Writings" (1874); "The Life, Letters, and Literary Remains of Edward Bulwer, Lord Lytton" (1883); "After Paradise, or Legends of Exile" (1887); "Marah," poems, and "King Poppy," posthumously (1892). THE STORM ON THE MOUNTAIN. (From "Lucile.") LETTER FROM COUSIN JOHN TO COUSIN ALFRED. "BIGORRE, Thursday. "TIME up, you rascal! Come back, or be hang'd. And the blame of the whole of your shocking behavior Falls on me, sir! Come back, do you hear? — or I leave your Come back To your anxious betroth'd; and perplex'd "COUSIN JACK." Alfred needed, in truth, no entreaties from John Was effaced from his fancy by that of Lucile. From the ground which he stood on he felt himself reel. When he caught, with a strange sense of fear, for assistance "Twas a phantom he grasp❜d. Having sent for his guide, He order'd his horse, and determin'd to ride Then, the guide, who well knew Every haunt of those hills, said the wild lake of Oo Of the mountain, avoided a circuit between Two long valleys; and thinking, "Perchance change of scene May create change of thought," Alfred Vargrave agreed, Mounted horse, and set forth to Bigorre at full speed. His guide rode beside him. The king of the guides! The gallant Bernard! ever boldly he rides, Ever gayly he sings! For to him, from of old, Where the white partridge lies, and the cock o' the woods; Where the thunder is hoarded, the snows lie asleep, Have whisper'd to him all their thousand love-tales; An existence untroubled by envy or strife, While he feeds on the dews and the juices of life. And so lightly he sings, and so gayly he rides, For BERNARD LE SAUTEUR is the king of all guides! But Bernard found, that day, neither song nor love-tale, To arouse from his deep and profound revery Ascending the mountain they slacken'd their pace, And the marvelous prospect each moment changed face. Breathed about them. The scarp'd ravaged mountains, all worn By the torrents, whose course they watch'd faintly meander, The white happy homes of the village of Oo, And high overhead The wrecks of the combat of Titans were spread. And fragrant with thyme was the delicate grass, |