The wonders of the horse, anecdotes and poetry, selected by J. Taylor

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Joseph Taylor

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Page 108 - The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : He goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted, Neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, The glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage; Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; And he smelleth the battle afar off, The thunder of the captains, and the...
Page 108 - Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: He goeth on to meet the armed men.
Page 103 - I am going to yield thee up ? To Europeans, who will tie thee close, — who will beat thee, — who will render thee miserable. Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the hearts of my children.
Page 109 - Th' impatient courser pants in every vein, And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.
Page 45 - That prompt the trav'eller on from stage to stage. Still on his strength depends their boasted speed ; For them his limbs grow weak, his bare ribs bleed ; And though he groaning quickens at command, Their extra shilling in the rider's hand T.
Page 50 - Bow'd down by degrees, he bends on to his fate ; Blind, old, lean, and feeble, he tugs round a mill, Or draws sand, till the sand of his hour-glass stands still.
Page 110 - He smelleth the battle afar off," and what follows about the shouting, is a circumstance expressed with great spirit by Lucan : So when the ring with joyful shouts rebounds, With rage and pride the imprison'd courser bounds : He frets, he foams, he rends his idle rein; Springs o'er the fence, and headlong seeks the plain.
Page 22 - ... linger on the spot where I was bred. For oh ! to think of what we have enjoyed, In my life's prime, ere I was old and poor ! Then from the jocund morn to eve employed, My gracious master on my back I bore. Thrice told ten years have danced on down along, Since first to thee these wayworn limbs I gave ; Sweet smiling years ! when both of us were young — The kindest master, and the happiest slave...
Page 50 - Pamper'd, prancing, and pleas'd, his head touching his breast, Scarcely snuffing the air, he's so proud and elate, The high-mettled racer first starts for the plate.
Page 131 - Why, sir," replied the seller, " whenever I rode him he always threatened to throw me, and he certainly never deceived me.

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