Improvement, hail! Thy busy hand To court or alley gives no quarter; Against thee nothing now can stand: Thou art too strong for bricks and mortar.
Before the parapets and tiles, Houses and streets promiscuous fall; Thou hast so altered old St. Giles, Few now would know him, by St. Paul.
The gallant captains, Parry, Ross, Each made the trial once or twice, To take a desperate cut across Some awful blocks of thick-ribbed ice.
"No thoroughfare," did nature cry, So Ross and Parry homewards flew: London Improvement doth defy Each _cul de sac_, and cuts it through.
At parlour, factory, or shop, At public entrance, private door, Or window e'en, it does not stop, But rudely pushes more and more.
Improvement, too, performs a task, Worthy a scientific hand; Turns sand into the sugar cask, Thus into sugar turning sand.
Days have been often big with fate, But ne'er was day so big of yore, As the October twenty-eight, In eighteen hundred forty-four. That day will memorable be, When taken in by history's range; For on it thousands went to see Victoria open the Exchange. Serene was the morning, And plenty of gravel Was spread on the road Which the Queen had to travel. Busy policemen far and wide Were spread upon the pavement's side; Who oft the truncheon bravely drew 'Gainst those who would the line break through. At length her Majesty appears, Amid enthusiastic cheers; There's not a gossamer or beaver But what is waving to receive her. Her dress was satin rich and rare, A silver tissue, neat but splendid,— The sleeves were short; and from the hair Two matchless brilliants were suspended. A riband o'er her shoulder hung, Of costly jewels was the border; To which with graceful ease was slung The star that marks the Garter's Order. Prince Albert, at her side, was dressed In uniform without a crease, While carelessly across his breast Was thrown the Order of the Fleece Chamberlain, Master of the Horse, Were present, as a matter of course. Assist me, Muses, while I throw The whole procession into verse: For metre hath an easy flow, And poetry is always terse. Lifeguards sent on before to clear the ways, First carriage drawn by half a dozen bays, Containing Usher of the Sword of State, The Exon of the Yeomen of the Guard, Usher of Privy Chamber, Page to wait, Each thought himself, no doubt, a wondrous "card." Carriage the second, drawn by bays as well, With Lord and Groom in Waiting on the Prince, And Silver Stick,—such an alarming swell, He's spoken scarce to anybody since. Third carriage, drawn by bays again, Which did a splendid load contain: The Treasurer of the Household he was one; Was it supposed any might dare to dun? 'Tis prudent of her Majesty, though funny, Always to go about well stocked with money. Fourth carriage—bays again—had for its freight Four of the minor officers of State. In carriage five—drawn by bays also, six, There sits at ease the costliest of sticks— Gold Stick, of course, is meant; and Norfolk's earl Sits opposite a very pretty girl,— A Maid of Honour; while on t' other side A Woman of the Bedchamber doth ride. Carriage the sixth is drawn along By six black horses large and strong; That carriage ample seats affords Unto two ladies and two lords. Now follow Yeomen of the Guard, Now Footmen, four and four; Now the state coach, with Grooms right hard Against the wheels and door— In fact, there is, without a joke, A footman placed at every spoke. Within the coach a form is seen; It is Her Majesty the Queen! Who seems extremely puzzled how To keep upon the constant bow. Prince Albert vainly at her side Attempts the labour to divide; He shows that he is nothing loth To make obeisances for both. But no! the people wish the two To join in a grand bow _de deux_. And thus Her Majesty the Queen, Like to a Chinese mandarin, Is forced to keep her head in action Throughout the entire city's range: Great must have been her satisfaction To find some prospect of a 'Change!'