HE gate was thrown open, I rode out alone, More proud than a monarch who sits on a throne. I am but a jockey, yet shout upon shout Went up from the people who watched me ride out; And the cheers that rang forth from that warm-hearted crowd, Were as earnest as those to which monarch e’er bowed.
My heart thrilled with pleasure so keen it was pain As I patted my Salvator’s soft silken mane; And a sweet shiver shot from his hide to my hand As we passed by the multitude down to the stand.
The great waves of cheering came billowing back, As the hoofs of brave Tenny rang swift down the track; And he stood there beside us, all bone and all muscle, Our noble opponent, well trained for the tussle That waited us there on the smooth, shining course. My Salvator, fair to the lovers of horse, As a beautiful woman is fair to man’s sight— Pure type of the thoroughbred, clean-limbed and bright,— Stood taking the plaudits as only his due, And nothing at all unexpected or new.
