The trumpets sound the coming of the Judge;
The anxious crowd rush wildly o’er the way:
The bustling clerks, well-laden, court ward budge
And leave the streets to dulness for the day.
Now eager necks are straining for a sight,
And all the Court a solemn stillness holds,
Save when the crier bawls with all his might
Or drowsy pleadings some dull voice unfolds.
Save that from yonder silky mantled seat
Some solemn owl does to the Judge complain