Was lucky—but she saw three caddies pass
To that small imp:—no living luck could loo him!
Sir Stamford would have lost his Raffles to him!
And so he climb’d—and rode, and won—and walk’d,
The wondrous topic of the curious swarm
That haunted the Parade. Many were balk’d
Of notoriety by that small form
Pacing it up and down:—some even talk’d
Of ducking him—when lo! a dismal storm