The generous courser paws and rears,
And ’gainst the bridle frets.
“He’s too high mettled,” Wordsworth says,
“And shakes me in my seat;
He must be balled, and drenched, and bled,
And get much less to eat.”
So balled, and drenched, and bled he was,
And put on lower diet;
And Wordsworth with delight observed
Him grow each day more quiet.