IN MEMORIAM 
Fred Archer's dead ! The words ring out 
O'er verdant plain and valley wide, 
And ears distended hear with doubt 
The news that he no more will ride. 
His last race done, he sleeps in peace. 
And what may now his requiem be. 
When all his efforts sadly cease ? 
He rode right well and gallantly ! 
His heart was stout, his hand was li'^ht, 
And riding swiftly through the day. 
He rode into the shades of night 
By one dark, straight, and awful way. 
So there is pity for him here, 
Since envy dare not touch him now, 
And stooping o'er his open bier, 
We drop a laurel on his brow. 
The Sportsman, November 9, 1886. 
