What crowd[1] is this? what have we here! we must not[2] pass it by; A Telescope upon its frame, and pointed to the sky: Long is it as a barber's pole, or mast of little boat, Some little pleasure skiff, that doth on Thames's waters float. The Show-man chooses well his place, 'tis Leicester's busy 5 Square; And is[3] as happy in his night, for the heavens are blue and fair; Calm, though impatient, is[4] the crowd; each stands ready[5] with the fee, And envies him that's looking[6];--what an insight must it be! Yet, Show-man, where can lie[7] the cause? Shall thy Implement have blame, A boaster, that when he is tried, fails, and is put to shame? 10 Or is it good as others are, and be their eyes in fault? Their eyes, or minds? or, finally, is yon[8] resplendent vault? Is nothing of that radiant pomp so good as we have here? Or gives a thing but small delight that never can be dear? The silver moon with all her vales, and hills of mightiest fame, 15 Doth she betray us when they're seen? or[9] are they but a name? Or is it rather that Conceit rapacious is and strong, And bounty never yields[10] so much but it seems to do her wrong? Or is it, that when human Souls a journey long have had And are returned into themselves, they cannot but be sad?[A] 20 Or must we be constrained to think that these Spectators rude, Poor in estate, of manners base, men of the multitude, Have souls which never yet have risen, and therefore prostrate lie? No, no, this cannot be;--men thirst for power and majesty![11] Does, then, a deep and earnest thought[12] the blissful mind 25 employ Of him who gazes, or has gazed? a grave and steady joy, That doth reject all show of pride, admits no outward sign, Because not of this noisy world, but silent and divine! Whatever be the cause,[13] 'tis sure that they who pry and pore Seem to meet with little gain, seem less happy than before: 30 One after One they take their turn,[14] nor have I one espied That doth not slackly go away, as if dissatisfied. Doubtless "observed" during the visit to London in April and May 1806.--ED. VARIANTS: [1] 1807. What throng ... MS. [2] 1807 ... we cannot ... MS. [3] 1827. And he's ... 1807. [4] 1807. ... are ... MS. letter, D. W. to Lady Beaumont, Nov. 15, 1806. [5] 1827. ... Each is ready ... 1807. [6] 1807. Impatient till his moment comes-- ... 1827. ... come;-- ... 1836. The text of 1840 returns to that of 1807. [7] 1807. ... be ... MS. [8] 1832.