" "A birthday Budget,--many
happy 'returns,'" he observed jocosely to PRINCE ARTHUR, "quite japing
times!" And off he went for his holiday; and, weather permitting,
as he reclines in his funny among the weeds, he will gently murmur,
"_Dulce est desipere in smoko_."
* * * * *
THE NEWEST NARCISSUS;
OR, THE HERO OF OUR DAYS.
["--The curious tendency towards imitation which is observed
whenever some specially sensational crime is brought into the
light of publicity."--_Morning Post_.']
NARCISSUS? _He_, that foul ill-favoured brute,
A fevered age's most repulsive fruit,
The murderous coxcomb, the assassin sleek?
Stranger comparison could fancy seek?
Truly 'tis not the self-admiring boy
Nymph Echo longed so vainly to enjoy;
Yet the old classic fable hath a phase
Which seems to fit the opprobrium of our days.
Criminal-worship seems our latest cult,
And this strange figure is its last result.
Self-conscious, self-admiring, Crime parades
Its loathly features, not in slumdom's shades,
Or in Alsatian sanctuaries vile.
No; peacock-posing and complacent smile
Pervade the common air, and take the town.
The glory of a scandalous renown
Lures the vain villain more than wrath or gain,
And cancels all the shame that should restrain:
Makes murder half-heroic in his sight,
And gilds the gallows with factitious light.
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