Or else to see Ducrow, with wide tide, stride
Four horses as no other man can span;
Or in the small Olympic pit, sit split,
Laughing at Liston, while you quiz his phiz.
Anon night comes, and with her wings brings things
Such as, with his poetic tongue, Young sung:
The gas up blazes with its bright white light,
And paralytic watchmen prowl, howl, growl,
About the streets, and take up Pall-Mall Sal,
Who, trusting to her nightly jobs, robs fobs.