HIPPODROMANIA ? 



Six lengths in front she scours along, 



She's bringing the field to trouble, 

 She's tailing them off, she's running strong, 



She shakes her head and pulls double. 

 Now Minstrel falters, and Exile flags. 



The Barb finds the pace too hot. 

 And Toryboy loiters, and Playboy lags, 



And the bolt of Ben Bolt is shot. 



That she never may be caught this day. 



Is the worst that the public wish her. 

 She won't be caught ; she comes right away ; 



Hurrah for Seagull and Fisher ! 

 See, Strop falls back, though his reins are slack, 



Sultana begins to tire. 

 And the top-weight tells on the Sydney crack, 



And the pace on "the Gippsland flyer." 



The rowels, as round the turn they sweep, 

 Just graze Tim Whiffler's flanks. 



Like the hunted deer that flies through the 

 sheep. 

 He strides through the beaten ranks. 



Daughter of Omen, prove your birth, 



121 



