MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. V 



Hark ! " Attila is beaten ;" and in front I can descry 



The tartan vest and yellow cap of Mr. Thomas Lye : 



Hurrah ! for young Job Marson, thou hast given Scott a sweater : 



In the days of" genius genuine," Old Chifney rode not better. 



Old Forth's white hat is flung aloft, Faugh-a-Ballagh heads The Cure ; 

 Irish Baron gets a verdict, with Clark for judge and jury : 

 Scott spurns the proffered glasses, with something more than rum in ; 

 " 'Tis none of the Pigburn family, but Sir Tatton's that's a com- 

 ing ."' 



Struggle along, game Cossack ! Van's no tortoise, though he's Dutch : 

 For Platoff pipes, the Leger course is half a mile too much. 



********** 



All the groups but one have flitted ; see one, shortly doomed to die, 

 'Mongst the stewards, to his telescope applies his anxious eye. 



They're off Assault is in the front ; alas ! his day is o'er ; 

 " Our Jim" in Graft-on scarlet, leads them up the hill at score ; 

 Justice to Ireland is coming 'tis a mere flash in the pan ; 

 No triple wreath this year shall bind the brow of Templeman. 



Sponge can't retain his running ; with Escape 'tis all U-P ; 

 And thundering to the distance, rush on the dauntless three ; 

 Nat holds his horse together, Flatcatcher cannot " stay ;" 

 Frank Butler comes with Canezou, and boldly shows the way. 



Now Pigburn ! now Newmarket ! Lord Stanley's mare prevails : 

 No ! Surplice runs with lurching strides, betwixt her and the rails ; 

 They're head and head, they're stroke for stroke, Nat's whalebone's in 



the air 

 Surplice is past the Judge's box, with half a neck to spare. 



Through the mist each form has faded, loud whistles the keen blast, 

 O'er the murky moor just peopled with the spirits of the past j 

 And I felt a chequered feeling of solemn joy and pain ; 

 For in one short hour I had lived my boyhood o'er again. 



The night dews kept descending ; towards the town, in anxious haste, 

 I walked the North-road avenue, like Holmes when " out to waste ;" 

 And these were my reflections, when I took my tea and station. 

 In a comfortable parlour, within the Salutation. 



Once more for thee, fair Doncaster ! may sporting men combine, 

 And cause a glorious era to commence from Forty- Nine : 

 'Twixt Newmarket nags and Northern, here may contests oft wax hot; 

 But may thy race-course ever prove the vantage ground of Scott. 



1849. Sporting Magazine. 



