 | Poetic trifles |  |
14
The Horse.
A horse, long us'd to bit and bridle,
But always much dispos'd to idle,
Had often wish'd that he was able
To steal unnotic'd from the stable.
But always much dispos'd to idle,
Had often wish'd that he was able
To steal unnotic'd from the stable.
At length he ventur'd from his station,
And with extreme self-approbation,
As if deliver'd from a load,
He gallop'd to the public road.
And with extreme self-approbation,
As if deliver'd from a load,
He gallop'd to the public road.
But when dark night began t'appear,
In vain he sought some shelter near;
And well he knew he could not bear,
To sleep out in the open air.
In vain he sought some shelter near;
And well he knew he could not bear,
To sleep out in the open air.
15
The night was dark, the country hilly,
Poor Dobbin felt extremely chilly;
Perhaps a feeling like remorse,
Just now might sting the truant horse.
Poor Dobbin felt extremely chilly;
Perhaps a feeling like remorse,
Just now might sting the truant horse.
'Twas long ere Dobbin could decide,
Betwixt his wishes and his pride,
Whether to live in all this danger,
Or go back sneaking to the manger.
Betwixt his wishes and his pride,
Whether to live in all this danger,
Or go back sneaking to the manger.
At last his struggling pride gave way;
The thought of savoury oats and hay
To hungry stomach, was a reason
Unanswerable at this season.
The thought of savoury oats and hay
To hungry stomach, was a reason
Unanswerable at this season.
So off he set, with look profound,
Right glad that he was homeward bound:
And trotting, fast as he was able,
Soon gain'd once more his master's stable.
Right glad that he was homeward bound:
And trotting, fast as he was able,
Soon gain'd once more his master's stable.
Now Dobbin, after this disaster,
Never again forsook his master,
Convinc'd he'd better let him mount,
Than travel on his own account.
Never again forsook his master,
Convinc'd he'd better let him mount,
Than travel on his own account.
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