Utilitarians, stern and cold, who argue, like the goose,
That ev'ry thing is useless which is not of any use,
Bethink you what our plight will be in times of civil jar:—
Where shall we stick our rebels' heads if we've no Temple Bar?
And if our relics, one by one, are thus to disappear,
What shall we have but narrow lanes to tempt a visit here?
How blank and pale will be their cheek, when pilgrims from afar
Shall pace Fleet Street, with pious feet, and see no Temple Bar!
The doom of Smithfield market's sealed;—gone is its ancient fair;
And soon the pomp of Lord Mayor's show may vanish into air;