Xll MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 



And his eye seems to say with its glance so gay, 



No mortal shall call me a craven ; 

 Be the course deep or light, come woe or come weal, 

 'Gainst the Doncaster verdict I here appeal. 



Now from Middleham sallies young Voltigeur, 



Now Marlow and Nat are up ; 

 Volti's sound as a foal, but his heart's not whole 



As when he achieved the Cup ; 



Still his friends loudly boast, when the race has been run, 

 That his " 2" on the cards will be changed to " 1." 



Now slowly to the starting post 



The champions wend their way, 

 And the sun, as if in honour 



Of them, darts its brightest ray ; 

 There Hibburd with his flag of red 



Goes cantering off to meet them, 

 And John Clarke in his judgment-seat, 



Waits patiently to greet them. 



Now the third bell is ringing out 



Its summons to the fight, 

 And many a heart is leaping 



To the mouth of many a wight : 

 In all that mighty multitude 



There's scarce a mind at ease, 

 From peers within the Stewards' Stand 



To peerers in the trees. 



The Stentor voice of Davis 



For an interval is mute, 

 The triumph of the Dutchman 



Is the thing his book to suit. 

 Of victory for Voltigeur 



The " masses" never doubt, 

 But thus outspake Sir Tatton, 



" He cannot win this bout." 



Hats off in front ! they're turning round, 



The flag is seen no more ; 

 The Dutchman waits, and Voltigeur 



Shoots three lengths to the fore ; 

 " He'll never let him catch him, 



He'll tire him I'll be bound" 

 By taking him a rattler 



Through the deep part of the ground. 



They've turned for home " The Dutchman comes !" 

 Is borne upon the gale, 



