Charles thought, "He is dying, and this is the end,
I am losing my Emmy and killing my friend;
He was hurt when we fell, as I thought at the first,
And I've forced him three miles with a blood-vessel burst.
And his game heart went on." Here a rush close behind
Made him cast a glance back with despair in his mind.
It was Cimmeroon rushing, his lips twitcht apart,
His eyes rolled back sightless, and death in his heart.
He reached to Right Royal, then fell, and was dead,
Nevermore to stretch reins with his beautiful head.
A gush of bright blood filled his mouth as he sank,
And he reached out his hoofs to the heave of his flank,
And Charles, leaning forward, made certain, and cried,
"This is Cimmeroon's blood, blown in passing beside,
And Roy's going strangely was just that he felt
Death coming behind him, or blood that he smelt."
So Charles's heart lightened and Royal went steady
As a water bound seaward set free from an eddy,
As a water sucked downward to leap at a weir
Sucked swifter and swifter till it shoot like a spear.
There, a mile on ahead, was the Stand like a cliff,
Grey wood, packed with faces, under banners blown stiff,
Where, in two minutes more, they would cheer for him—if—
If he came to those horses still twelve lengths ahead.
"O Royal, you do it, or kill me!" he said.
They went at the hurdle as though it weren't there,
White splinters of hurdle flew up in the air,
And down, like a rabbit, went Syringa the mare;
Her man somersaulted right under Gavotte,
And Syringa went on but her rider did not.
But the little Gavotte tucked her feet away clear,
Just an inch to one side of the fallen man's ear,
With a flash of horse wisdom as she went on the wing
Not to tread on man's body, that marvellous thing.
As in mill-streams in summer the dark water drifts
Petals mown in the hayfield skimmed over by swifts,
Petals blue from the speedwell or sweet from the lime,
And the fish rise to test them, as they float, for a time,
Yet they all loiter sluicewards and are whirled, and then drowned,
So the race swept the horses till they glimmered the ground.
Charles looked at those horses, and speedily guesst
That the roan horse, Red Ember, was one of the best;
He was level and easy, not turning a hair,
But with power all ready when his rider should care,
And he leaped like a lover and his coat still did shine.
Charles thought, "He's a wonder, and he's twelve lengths from mine."
There were others still in it, according to looks:—
Sir Lopez, and Soyland, and Peterkinooks,
Counter Vair and Gavotte, all with plenty to spend;
Then Monkery worn, and The Ghost at his end.
But the roan horse, Red Ember, seemed playing a game.
Charles thought, "He's the winner; he can run us all tame."
The wind brought a tune and a faint noise of cheers,
Right Royal coquetted and cocked up his ears.
Charles saw his horse gaining; the going increased;
His touch on the mouth felt the soul of the beast,
And the heave of each muscle and the look of his eye
Said, "I'll come to those horses, and pass them, or die."