212 The Chase 



But it can be proved, some years ago, 

 That a little was tinged the crimson flow ! 

 Yet ne'er do I wish for a better breed 

 Than this of my famous coal-black steed. 



He's just as high as a horse should be, 

 Not missing an ace of fifteen-three ; 

 But his chest's so deep and his back so wide, 

 He seems a devilish big one to ride ; 

 For in spite of the succeeding dips, 

 He retains the withers of old Ech'pse : 

 To judge by what we in history read. 

 He'd just the back of my coal-black steed. 



His head ! what a beautiful head he's got ! 

 And his tail's put on in the proper spot ; 

 While four such legs, for muscle and bone, 

 You may travel a week and not be shown. 

 His mouth's so good ; he's so easy to ride, 

 A child may safely be trusted to guide ; 

 For when put out to his utmost speed, 

 A thread would pull up my coal-black steed. 



Talk of water-jumpers — I've ridden him o'er 

 A place that never was crossed before ; 

 And when on the stream there's an overflow, 

 The edge of the river he seems to know. 

 At timber he measures his leaps so true 

 That gate or stile he tips with his shoe. 

 As a standing leaper or taking at speed, 

 I ne'er rode horse like my coal-black steed. 



One day last spring we'd a ten-miles burst. 

 And up to the hounds he carried me first. 

 At starting we mustered a hundred or more — 

 When Reynard was killed there were only four ! 



