Full stretch’d, crossing, justling, see onward they rush,
And o’er the same ground three times speedily push;
Till weary’d, worn out, we behold P⸺o tame,
As he crawls off the course lifeless, jaded, and lame.
A short time elaps’d, when examin’d his case,
He’s found sorely injur’d by running the race;
And the high mettl’d P⸺o, erst proud and elate,
Is pronounc’d by the knowing ones in for the plate.
Confin’d to the stable, shut out from the stud,
Restrain’d in his diet, and oft losing blood,