POST-MORTEM 227 



' But age, that will weaken the limbs, 



And check the bold speed of Eclipse, 

 Dous'd one of this rare stallion's flims,^ 



And made him grow stiff in the hips. 

 Ne'ertheless he would not yield an inch, 



In loosening bright Beauty's dear zone, 

 'Twas his maxim — " The dog that can flinch, 



Is not prime — But I 'm blood to the bone." 



' Well, what though the old buck 's done up. 



He dash'd away while he was able ; 

 So his mem'ry ensures him Fame's cup. 



With every true friend to the stable. 

 As for daughters of Oythera's isle, 



They '11 drain all the sluices of grief ; 

 Till " Four-in-hand blades " make 'em smile, 



"Prime" — "bang-up-boys" — will bring them relief.' 



The constant report of his decease, and other 

 scurrilous shafts levelled at the Duke, never moved 

 him to more than a — chuckle. 



^ He had a speck in one of his eyes which in old age caused 

 partial blindness. 



