And had not Paris climbed into a tree,
He ne’er had crossed the ocean; never seen
The fairest face that launched a thousand ships,
And burned the topless towers of Ilium.
Some accused LEGION of plagiarising the last line and a half, which reminded them, they said, of MARLOWE. But he replied that great wits jump, that it was an accidental coincidence. The public, which rarely cares much for poetry, was struck by Cebren and Paris. “There is in it,” said the Parthenon, “an original music, and a chord is struck, reverberating from the prehistoric years, which will find an answer in the heart of every father of a family.” The Clergy at large quoted Cebren and Paris in their charges and sermons, and the work was a favourite prize at seminaries for young ladies. Consequently all the other poets, whom nobody buys, arose, and blasphemed Cebren and Paris in all the innumerable reviews. This greatly, and justly, added to the popularity of LEGION’s book. He followed it up by Idylls of the Nursery, a volume of exquisite pieces on infants as yet incapable of speaking or walking. This had an enormous success among young newly-married people, an enthusiastic class of the community. At recitations you might hear—
Tootsy, wootsy, pooty sing,
Mammie’s darling, icky thing!
Coral lips that fret the coral,
Innocence completely moral.
Sweet Babe,