awe—­
  On strangers, of all ages; the quick dance
  Of colours, lights, and forms; the deafening din; 155
  The comers and the goers face to face,
  Face after face; the string of dazzling wares,
  Shop after shop, with symbols, blazoned names,
  And all the tradesman’s honours overhead: 
  Here, fronts of houses, like a title-page, 160
  With letters huge inscribed from top to toe,
  Stationed above the door, like guardian saints;
  There, allegoric shapes, female or male,
  Or physiognomies of real men,
  Land-warriors, kings, or admirals of the sea, 165
  Boyle, Shakespeare, Newton, or the attractive head
  Of some quack-doctor, famous in his day.

  Meanwhile the roar continues, till at length,
  Escaped as from an enemy, we turn
  Abruptly into some sequestered nook, 170
  Still as a sheltered place when winds blow loud! 
  At leisure, thence, through tracts of thin resort,
  And sights and sounds that come at intervals,
  We take our way.  A raree-show is here,
  With children gathered round; another street 175
  Presents a company of dancing dogs,
  Or dromedary, with an antic pair
  Of monkeys on his back; a minstrel band
  Of Savoyards; or, single and alone,
  An English ballad-singer.  Private courts, 180
  Gloomy as coffins, and unsightly lanes
  Thrilled by some female vendor’s scream, belike
  The very shrillest of all London cries,
  May then entangle our impatient steps;
  Conducted through those labyrinths, unawares, 185
  To privileged regions and inviolate,
  Where from their airy lodges studious lawyers
  Look out on waters, walks, and gardens green.

    Thence back into the throng, until we reach,
  Following the tide that slackens by degrees, 190
  Some half-frequented scene, where wider streets
  Bring straggling breezes of suburban air. 
  Here files of ballads dangle from dead walls;
  Advertisements, of giant-size, from high
  Press forward, in all colours, on the sight; 195
  These, bold in conscious merit, lower down;
  That, fronted with a most imposing word,
  Is, peradventure, one in masquerade. 
  As on the broadening causeway we advance,
  Behold, turned upwards, a face hard and strong 200
  In lineaments, and red with over-toil. 
  ’Tis one encountered here and everywhere;
  A travelling cripple, by the trunk cut short,
  And stumping on his arms.  In sailor’s garb
  Another lies at length, beside a range 205
  Of well-formed characters, with chalk inscribed
  Upon the smooth flat stones:  the Nurse is here,
  The Bachelor, that loves to sun himself,
  The military Idler, and the Dame,
  That field-ward takes her walk with decent steps. 210