How slumbered your keen architectural ken
When you planned Temple Bar,
Nor foresaw from afar
How the witlings would spit you,
And editors twit you,
And Levi the Thunderer[139]
Proclaim you a blunderer!
How the D.T., the pet, pink, and pride of the Press,
Would feel itself called time by time, to address
Learned Leaders, the joy of its large circulation,