It seems but too plain that nothing can put it out!
Drury Lane! Drury Lane!
See, Drury Lane expires!
Pent in by smoke-dried beams, twelve moons or more,
Shorn of his ray,
Surya in durance lay:
The workmen heard him shout.
But thought it would not pay
To dig him out.
When lo! terrific Yamen, lord of hell,