Thus, thus, I leap into my seat, and my good fortune bless;
Who overtakes us now must beat a G. N. R. express!
W. G. McMillan.
The Horse and his Master.
(A panegyric.)
My—anything but beautiful, that standest “knock-knee’d” by,
“Inverted arch” describes thy back, as “dismal” doth thine eye.
Fret not—go roam the commons now, limp there for want of speed;
I dare not mount on thee (’twere pain), thou bag of bones, indeed.