With stares above, and stairs below;
The soldier first, a foremost man,
Like Bow-street culprits—keeps the van,
Charges the door, whose keepers stern
A "bob" will charge him in return;
He's got his step, so with light mind
Bears all the pressure from behind;
Feels from the rear-mob, all alive,
A drive, though not a carriage drive:
And, lo! among them, soot-grimed deep,