University of Virginia Library

[Swift Pepasus lend me thy Hoofes and Wings]

Swift Pepasus lend me thy Hoofes and Wings
Tempe, and Aganipp, and such strange things
As Poets do call Hellicon, and Muses
(That with ingenious wit the braine infuses)
In nimble strains make my invention wag,
And tell the sad death of a Scottish Nag.
A Nag of Nags, (as those that knew him say)
Whose birth and breeding was in Galloway,
Which Countrey (though it barren be and bare)
His Mother was a well reputed Mare:
He had all paces, and more swift then Wind,
Could trot before and amble well behind;
He had two sorts of gallops, false and true,
That when he did but run, men thought he flew!
Sure he was kin to winged Pegasus,
And of the race of great Bucephalus;
But Ile not rake up old Antiquity.
To prove his Ancesters old Pedigree:
Let it suffice, that such a Horse he was
That could in measure bravely pace and passe,
A Bay, a gallant Bay, most swift and quick,
Not having one base scurvy jadish trick.
There's many brave men, in their finest trim
Wants what this Nag had, sound of Wind and Limb.
He di'd untimely by a sad disaster,
And death unluckily unhors'd his master.
Though Horses of diseases have too many,
Yet in his life time he had never any:
He had no Chin-gall, Wind-gall, Navell-gall,
Or Staggers, Spur-gall, Light-gall, Shacksgall,
Nor Wormes, or anticore, or Salenders,
Nor Scatches, Dropsie, or the Mallenders,
No Palsey, Feaver vext him, or Pompardy,
No frenzy troubled him, he was so hardy;
No Glanders, Cough, the Yellows, or Pole evill,
Or Spavens, Splinters, Fashions, or Colt-evill;
Nor Ring-bones, Quitter-bones, no Curbs or Hawse,
Were of this Nags death any griefe or Cause;
No Cramp or Canker, Crestfall, or the Vives,
Or bloudy Riffes that shorten Horses lives.
He had no Crown-scab, nor was ever found
To have the Hawkes, or Toothach, or Hide-bound,
Or Bots, or Botch, or Paps his health did wound.
No tongue-hurt Farley, rotten Frush, or Cloy'd,
No Kybes, or broken wind his health annoy'd;
No Bladders, Surbates, Wrench, or Tyrednesse,
No strain, no Scottish fleas, or lowsinesse;
No prick 'ith soale, Neck-creek, or shoulder splat,
Or Strangle, he ne'r troubled was with that;
He had no Pin and Web, loose-hoof'd, or gravel'd,
Bloud shot, or founder'd whensoere he travel'd;
Horse-hip'd he was not, or in's Groyn a Wen,
Nor Rot i'th Lungs, nor shed his hair, what then
Did kill him? some suppose it was the Pose;
But we are all deceiv'd, 'twas none of those:
No Megrim was his death, or Calenture,
He with a Surfeit dy'd an Epicure.
But change of Pasture, altring of the Ayre
The health of Man or Horse may much impaire:
For by old Par it plainly doth appear,
(Who liv'd in Shropshire sevenscore thirteen year)
Was by an Honorable Earles expence,
With Care and Cost to London brought from thence,
But change of Ayre and Dyet took short course,
And layd him dead, like Master Fradshams horse.
This Nag in Scotland kept a temperate dyet,
(For Gallaway's a Country free from Riot)
Nor can it be reported anywhere,
That ever Horse did dye of Surfet there:
With Provender they are not proud, prick'd up,
With moderation there they bite and sup;
Their fare is fruitfull Fearn, and wholesome Heath,
Which frugall food preserves long wind or Breath,
Or Mosse as soft as downe or good chop'd straw;
(For Horses there think Hay Apocrypha)
An English Horse-loafe's Antichristian,
And all their Nags are Presbyterian:
For had I Aristotiles wit, my pen
Would prove strange Sects in Horses as in men:
The Spanish Jennet, and the Flaunders Mare,
Betwixt them many strange opinions are:
The Sumpter Horse will prance a lofty Gate,
Proud with the Burthen of ill gotten plate;
The Naples Courser, and the German steed,
The Barbary Horse that 'mongst the Moors doth breed,
The Cart horse, French Cavalla, Irish Hobby,
The Welsh Tit that loves Oates beyond Couse-bobby:
A man may write and talke, and wast his wind,
Yet never make these horses of one mind;
And many sects there are that disagree,
Who in Religion like to Horses be:
And sure more Horses have to Churches gone
Within these ten years, then was ever known:
This Nag, neare Hampton Court, did catch his death
And to his Master did his skin bequeath;
His Brains, Wit, Reason, and his honesty,
He gave to's Countrey as a Legacy:
His Corps had near a hundred Graves and Tombs,
In light foot Hounds, Kites, Crows, and Ravens Wombs:
Thus at his Funerall solemnity,
He was most swift, and did both run and flie.