"He of Blackfriars Road who hymn'd thy downfall
In loud hosannahs, and who prophesied
That flames, like those from prostrate Solyma,
Would scorch the hand that ventured to rebuild thee,
Has proved a lying prophet." From that hour,
As leisure offer'd, close to Mr. Spring's
Box-office door, I've stood and eyed the builders.
They had a plan to render less their labours;
Workmen in elder times would mount a ladder
With hodded heads, but these stretch'd forth a pole