So saying, in his arms he caught the beaming one,
And crossing Russell Street,
He placed him on his feet,
'Neath Covent Garden dome. Sudden a sound
As of the bricklayers of Babel rose:
Horns, rattles, drums, tin trumpets, sheets of copper,
Punches and slaps, thwacks of all sorts and sizes,
From the knobb'd bludgeon to the taper switch,
Ran echoing round the walls; paper placards
Blotted the lamps, boots brown with mud the benches: