As a proud courser of Apollo’s chariot,
Seems breathing fire. Potter’s Æschylus.
Oh! bonnie look’d my ain true knight,
His barb so proudly reining;
I watch’d him till my tearfu’ sight
Grew amaist dim wi’ straining. Border Minstrelsy.
Why, he can heel the lavolt, and wind a fiery barb, as well as any gallant in Christendom. He’s the very pink and mirror of accomplishment.
Shakspeare.
Fair star of beauty’s heaven! to call thee mine,
All other joys I joyously would yield;