His eloquence improv'd apace,
As manly pity fill'd his mind;
"You know poor Bayard; here's the case,—
He's past his labour, old, and blind:
"If you and I should but agree
To settle here for good and all,
Could you give all your heart to me,
And grudge that poor old rogue a stall?
His Character.
"I'll buy him, for the dogs shall never
Set tooth upon a friend so true;
He'll not live long, but I for ever
Shall know I gave the beast his due.
"'Mongst all I've known of plows and carts,
And ever since I learn'd to drive,
He was not match'd in all these parts;
There was not such a horse alive!
"Ready, as birds to meet the morn,
Were all his efforts at the plough;
Then, the mill-brook with hay or corn,
Good creature! how he'd spatter through!
Character continued.
"He was a horse of mighty pow'r,
Compact in frame, and strong of limb;
Went with a chirp from hour to hour;
Whip-cord! 'twas never made for him.
"I left him in the shafts behind,
His fellows all unhook'd and gone,
He neigh'd, and deem'd the thing unkind.
Then, starting, drew the load alone!
"But I might talk till pitch-dark night,
And then have something left to say;
But, Mary, am I wrong or right,
Or, do I throw my words away?