The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

Right choleric was Downing then
To think that painted heathen men
Should hoist him with a beastly noose
Like any doltish wolf or moose.
But vainly might he snort and rave
At powwow, sagamore and brave;
He found himself no less in air,
And waltzing like a cultured bear.
So clutching hard the cowhide twist,
He shinned aloft, hand over fist;
Then seized a bough and deftly swung
To earth, from leafy rung to rung.

But how pursue the foe afoot?
Or how desert a faithful brute
Who whinnied from her lofty berth
Her shrill desire to visit earth?
Our Ajax searched for axe or spade;
But finding neither, drew his blade,
And hewed as only heroes hew,
Until he smote the walnut through
And tumbled it with mournful soughs

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Athwart the woodland's crowded boughs;
Thus landing Dobbin, still alive,
But scarcely fit to ride or drive.

In vain he heartened her to rise.
She lay at length with filmy eyes
And trembling legs and heaving chest,
A creature sorely needing rest;
While Downing sadly watched her throes,
Till presently both fell a-doze,
The courser lying prone, and he
With folded arms against a tree.