What Will He Do With It? Book VII

Eleven o'clock, A. M., Samuel Adolphus Poole, Esq., is in his parlour, -- the house one of those new dwellings which yearly spring up north of the Regent's Park, -- dwellings that, attesting the eccentricity of the national character, task the fancy of the architect and the gravity of the beholder -- each tenement so tortured into contrast with the other, that, on one little rood of ground, all ages seemed blended, and all races encamped. No. 1 is an Egyptian tomb! -- Pharaohs may repose there! No. 2 is a Swiss chalet -- William Tell may be shooting in its garden! Lo! the severity of Doric columns -- Sparta is before you! Behold that Gothic porch -- you are rapt to the Norman days! Ha! those Elizabethan mullions -- Sidney and Raleigh, rise again! Ho! the trellises of China -- come forth, Confucius, and Commissioner Yeh! Passing a few paces, we are in the land of the Zegri and Abencerrage:

'Land of the dark-eyed maid and dusky Moor.'