In one of those small, quiet streets, Where business retreats, To shun the daily bustle and the noise The shoppy Strand enjoys, But Law, Joint-Companies, and Life Assurance Find past endurance-- In one of those back streets, to Peace so dear, The other day, a ragged wight Began to sing with all his might, “_I have a silent sorrow here!_” The place was lonely; not a creature stirred Except some little dingy bird; Or vagrant cur that sniffed along, Indifferent to the Son of Song; No truant errand-boy, or Doctor’s lad, No idle filch or lounging cad, No Pots encumbered with diurnal beer, No printer’s devil with an author’s proof, Or housemaid on an errand far aloof, Lingered the tattered Melodist to hear-- Who yet, confound him! bawled as loud As if he had to charm a London crowd, Singing beside the public way, Accompanied--instead of violin, Flute, or piano, chiming in-- By rumbling cab, and omnibus, and dray, A van with iron bars to play _staccato_, Or engine _obligato_-- In short, without one instrument vehicular (Not even a truck, to be particular), There stood the rogue and roared, Unasked and unencored, Enough to split the organs called auricular! Heard in that quiet place, Devoted to a still and studious race, The noise was quite appalling! To seek a fitting simile and spin it, Appropriate to his calling, His voice had all Lablache’s _body_ in it; But oh! the scientific tone it lacked, And was, in fact, Only a forty-boatswain-power of bawling! ’Twas said, indeed, for want of vocal _nous_, The stage had banished him when he attempted it, For tho’ his voice completely filled the house, It also emptied it. However, there he stood Vociferous--a ragged don! And with his iron pipes laid on A row to all the neighbourhood. In vain were sashes closed And doors against the persevering Stentor, Though brick, and glass, and solid oak opposed, Th’ intruding voice would enter, Heedless of ceremonial or decorum, Den, office, parlour, study, and sanctorum; Where clients and attorneys, rogues, and fools, Ladies, and masters who attended schools, Clerks, agents, all provided with their tools, Were sitting upon sofas, chairs, and stools, With shelves, pianos, tables, desks, before ’em-- How it did bore ’em!