BRITISH TURF. 21 1 



See, he devours the plain, the verdure's top 



Scarce touches ; smft as hawk or swallow flies, 



That, when approaching nearer to the end 



Of the long course, then headlong he may seem 



To rush, and gain new vigour as he goes ! 



Then, neither lungs, nor any nerv^e, he spares ! 



His belly now appears to touch the ground. 



And now he seems fleet as the wind to glide. 



Blood, mixed with sweat, flows quickly down his sides ; 



His lips are wet with foam ; with open throat. 



He drinks the %vind ; and from his nostrils wide 



Issue, with sobs and pantings, curling smoke. 



While through his body, every vein distends. 



Quicker and quicker now his light hoof strikes 



The glebe — and now with love of nearer palm 



Of victory, he glows, while passing by 



His several rivals, how his heart exults ! 



Resound the shouts of men, the smack of whips. 



The goal the conqueror wins, but by a neck. 



And quick he bears away the Royal Plate 



Out of the race weeks, Newmarket is of course 

 very dull, but the gaiety and bustle of the meet- 

 ings make ample amends for the idle intervals. 

 During the meetings crowds throng the streets till 

 a late hour of the night ; the events of the day, or 

 those to come off on the morrow, forming the 

 constant theme in every mouth ; while a sudden 

 rise or fall in the betting on any favorite for a large 

 stake produces the greatest sensation. 



We are sorry to be obhged to deprecate the dis- 

 sipation and gambling to which it is well known 

 the Newmarket lads are addicted to an almost 

 incredible degree. During the winter months these 



