Her work was finish’d, and her race was run;
For die she must - indeed she would not live
A week alone, for all the world could give;
He too must die in that same wicked place;
It always happen’d - was a common case;
Among those horrid horses, jockeys, crowds,
’Twas certain death - they might bespeak their shrouds.
He would attempt a race, be sure to fall -
And she expire with terror - that was all;
With love like hers she was indeed unfit