BRITISH TURF. 



THE YORK MATCH. 



WRITTEN BY MRS. THORNTON AFTER THIS EVENT. 



To the post we advanc'd, at the signal to start, 



Brisk I flourish'd my whip over Louisa's ears ; 

 When springing amain, by a resolute dart, 



I gain'd a whole length of the jockey of peers ; 

 That advantage to keep, as 1 rode fleet along. 



Behind me full many a glance did I throw — 

 I soon found I'd the foot, but Allegro was strong. 



And the jockey of peers carried weight, as you know. 



I tried then to cut the third post pretty close. 



At the same time, the length I had gain'd to preserve. 

 Gave whip to my mare, but she kick'd at the dose. 



And — a vile Uttle devil — attempted to swerve ; 

 I chang'd, and a left-handed cut brought her to. 



But Buckle 'tween me and the post made a push. 

 And lay neck and neck with me, all I could do. 



Not seeming to value my efforts a rush. 



I led him, however, at length to a slough, 



"WTiere he sunk to the fetlock at every stroke. 

 My Buck had the bone — he press'd hard at me now. 



And seem'd to enjoy much the best of the joke ; 

 But I cross'd at the next post, and stretching my hand — 



As I hoped to be sav'd, without malice or heat — 

 I put all his trials of skill to the stand. 



For the jockey Buck I nearly threw from his seat. 



He recover'd his saddle, by seizing the mane. 



My mare darted forward, as swift as the wind. 

 Nor heard I of the horse or of Buckle again. 



Till I turn'd, and beheld them come panting behind ; 

 My pleasure alone, that sensation defines, 



Which the Laplander courts from the breeze of the south; 

 When I saw my Buck distanc'd, and dash'd up the lines 



With my mare hard in hand, and my whip in my mouth. 



