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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hippodromania; Or, Whiffs From The Pipe</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Part I<br>Visions in the Smoke<br>Rest, and be thankful! On the verge<br>Of the tall cliff rugged and grey,<br>But whose granite base the breakers surge,<br>And shiver their frothy spray,<br>Outstretched, I gaze on the eddying wreath<br>That gathers and flits away,<br>With the surf beneath, and between my teeth<br>The stem of the 'ancient clay'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">With the anodyne cloud on my listless eyes,<br>With its spell on my dreamy brain,<br>As I watch the circling vapours rise<br>From the brown bowl up to the sullen skies,<br>My vision becomes more plain,<br>Till a dim kaleidoscope succeeds<br>Through the smoke-rack drifting and veering,<br>Like ghostly riders on phantom steeds<br>To a shadowy goal careering.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In their own generation the wise may sneer,<br>They hold our sports in derision;<br>Perchance to sophist, or sage, or seer,<br>Were allotted a graver vision.<br>Yet if man, of all the Creator plann'd,<br>His noblest work is reckoned,<br>Of the works of His hand, by sea or by land,<br>The horse may at least rank second.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Did they quail, those steeds of the squadrons light,<br>Did they flinch from the battle's roar,<br>When they burst on the guns of the Muscovite,<br>By the echoing Black Sea shore?<br>On! on! to the cannon's mouth they stride,<br>With never a swerve nor a shy,<br>Oh! the minutes of yonder maddening ride,<br>Long years of pleasure outvie!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No slave, but a comrade staunch, in this,<br>Is the horse, for he takes his share,<br>Not in peril alone, but in feverish bliss,<br>And in longing to do and dare.<br>Where bullets whistle, and round shot whiz,<br>Hoofs trample, and blades flash bare,<br>God send me an ending as fair as his<br>Who died in his stirrups there!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The wind has slumbered throughout the day,<br>Now a fitful gust springs over the bay,<br>My wandering thoughts no longer stray,<br>I'll fix my overcoat buttons;<br>Secure my old hat as best I may<br>(And a shocking bad one it is, by the way),<br>Blow a denser cloud from my stunted clay,<br>And then, friend BELL, as the Frenchmen say,<br>We'll 'go back again to our muttons'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's a lull in the tumult on yonder hill,<br>And the clamour has grown less loud,<br>Though the Babel of tongues is never still,<br>With the presence of such a crowd.<br>The bell has rung. With their riders up<br>At the starting post they muster,<br>The racers stripp'd for the 'Melbourne Cup',<br>All gloss and polish and lustre;<br>And the course is seen, with its emerald sheen,<br>By the bright spring-tide renew'd,<br>Like a ribbon of green stretched out between<br>The ranks of the multitude.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The flag is lowered. 'They're off!' 'They come!'<br>The squadron is sweeping on;<br>A sway in the crowd-a murmuring hum:<br>'They're here!' 'They're past!' 'They're gone!'<br>They came with the rush of the southern surf,<br>On the bar of the storm-girt bay;<br>And like muffled drums on the sounding turf<br>Their hoof-strokes echo away.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The rose and black draws clear of the ruck,<br>And the murmur swells to a roar,<br>As the brave old colours that never were struck,<br>Are seen with the lead once more.<br>Though the feathery ferns and grasses wave<br>O'er the sod where Lantern sleeps,<br>Though the turf is green on Fisherman's grave,<br>The stable its prestige keeps.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Six lengths in front she scours along,<br>She's bringing the field to trouble;<br>She's tailing them off, she's running strong,<br>She shakes her head and pulls double.<br>Now Minstrel falters and Exile flags,<br>The Barb finds the pace too hot,<br>And Toryboy loiters, and Playboy lags,<br>And the BOLT of Ben Bolt is shot.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That she never may be caught this day,<br>Is the worst that the public wish her.<br>She won't be caught: she comes right away;<br>Hurrah for Seagull and Fisher!<br>See, Strop falls back, though his reins are slack,<br>Sultana begins to tire,<br>And the top-weight tells on the Sydney crack,<br>And the pace on 'the Gippsland flyer'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The rowels, as round the turn they sweep,<br>Just graze Tim Whiffler's flanks;<br>Like the hunted deer that flies through the sheep,<br>He strides through the beaten ranks.<br>Daughter of Omen, prove your birth,<br>The colt will take lots of choking;<br>The hot breath steams at your saddle girth,<br>From his scarlet nostril smoking.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The shouts of the Ring for a space subside,<br>And slackens the bookmaker's roar;<br>Now, Davis, rally; now, Carter, ride,<br>As man never rode before.<br>When Sparrowhawk's backers cease to cheer,<br>When Yattendon's friends are dumb,<br>When hushed is the clamour for Volunteer-<br>Alone in the race they come!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They're neck and neck; they're head and head;<br>They're stroke for stroke in the running;<br>The whalebone whistles, the steel is red,<br>No shirking as yet nor shunning.<br>One effort, Seagull, the blood you boast<br>Should struggle when nerves are strained;-<br>With a rush on the post, by a neck at the most,<br>The verdict for Tim is gained.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Tim Whiffler wins. Is blood alone<br>The sine qua non for a flyer?<br>The breed of his dam is a myth unknown,<br>And we've doubts respecting his sire.<br>Yet few (if any) those proud names are,<br>On the pages of peerage or stud,<br>In whose 'scutcheon lurks no sinister bar,<br>No taint of the base black blood.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Aye, Shorthouse, laugh-laugh loud and long,<br>For pedigree you're a sticker;<br>You may be right, I may be wrong,<br>Wiseacres both! Let's liquor.<br>Our common descent we may each recall<br>To a lady of old caught tripping,<br>The fair one in fig leaves, who d--d us all<br>For a bite at a golden pippin.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When first on this rocky ledge I lay,<br>There was scarce a ripple in yonder bay,<br>The air was serenely still;<br>Each column that sailed from my swarthy clay<br>Hung loitering long ere it passed away,<br>Though the skies wore a tinge of leaden grey,<br>And the atmosphere was chill.<br>But the red sun sank to his evening shroud,<br>Where the western billows are roll'd,<br>Behind a curtain of sable cloud,<br>With a fringe of scarlet and gold;<br>There's a misty glare in the yellow moon,<br>And the drift is scudding fast,<br>There'll be storm, and rattle, and tempest soon,<br>When the heavens are overcast.<br>The neutral tint of the sullen sea<br>Is fleck'd with the snowy foam,<br>And the distant gale sighs drearilie,<br>As the wanderer sighs for his home.<br>The white sea-horses toss their manes<br>On the bar of the southern reef,<br>And the breakers moan, and-by Jove, it rains<br>(I thought I should come to grief):<br>Though it can't well damage my shabby hat,<br>Though my coat looks best when it's damp;<br>Since the shaking I got (no matter where at),<br>I've a mortal dread of the cramp.<br>My matches are wet, my pipe's put out,<br>And the wind blows colder and stronger;<br>I'll be stiff, and sore, and sorry, no doubt,<br>If I lie here any longer.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Part II<br>The Fields of Coleraine</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>On the fields of Col'raine there'll be labour in vain<br>Before the Great Western is ended,<br>The nags will have toil'd, and the silks will be soil'd,<br>And the rails will require to be mended.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">For the gullies are deep, and the uplands are steep,<br>And mud will of purls be the token,<br>And the tough stringy-bark, that invites us to lark,<br>With impunity may not be broken.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Though Ballarat's fast, and they say he can last,<br>And that may be granted hereafter,<br>Yet the judge's decision to the Border division<br>Will bring neither shouting nor laughter.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And Blueskin, I've heard that he goes like a bird,<br>And I'm told that to back him would pay me;<br>He's a good bit of stuff, but not quite good enough,<br>'Non licuit credere famae.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Alfred ought to be there, we all of us swear<br>By the blood of King Alfred, his sire;<br>He's not the real jam, by the blood of his dam,<br>So I sha'n't put him down as a flyer.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now, Hynam, my boy, I wish you great joy,<br>I know that when fresh you can jump, sir;<br>But you'll scarce be in clover, when you're ridden all over,<br>And punished from shoulder to rump, sir.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Archer goes like a shot, they can put on their pot,<br>And boil it to cover expenses;<br>Their pot will boil over, the run of his dover<br>He'll never earn over big fences.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's a horse in the race, with a blaze on his face,<br>And we know he can gallop a docker!<br>He's proved himself stout, of his speed there's no doubt,<br>And his jumping's according to Cocker.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When Hynam's outstripp'd, and when Alfred is whipp'd,<br>To keep him in sight of the leaders,<br>While Blueskin runs true, but his backers look blue,<br>For his rider's at work with the bleeders;</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When his carcase of beef brings 'the bullock' to grief,<br>And the rush of the tartan is ended;<br>When Archer's in trouble-who's that pulling double,<br>And taking his leaps unextended?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He wins all the way, and the rest-sweet, they say,<br>Is the smell of the newly-turned plough, friend,<br>But you smell it too close when it stops eyes and nose,<br>And you can't tell your horse from your cow, friend.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Part III<br>Credat Judaeus Apella</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Dear Bell,-I enclose what you ask in a letter,<br>A short rhyme at random, no more and no less,<br>And you may inser it, for want of a better,<br>Or leave it, it doesn't much matter, I guess;<br>And as for a tip, why, there isn't much in it,<br>I may hit the right nail, but first, I declare,<br>I haven't a notion what's going to win it<br>(The Champion, I mean), and what's more, I don't care.<br>Imprimis, there's Cowra-few nags can go quicker<br>Than she can-and Smith takes his oath she can fly;<br>While Brown, Jones, and Robinson swear she's a sticker,<br>But 'credat Judaeus Apella', say I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's old Volunteer, I'd be sorry to sneer<br>At his chance; he'll be there, if he goes at the rate<br>He went at last year, when a customer queer,<br>Johnny Higgerson, fancied him lock'd in the straight;<br>I've heard that the old horse has never been fitter,<br>I've heard all performances past he'll outvie;<br>He may gallop a docker, and finish a splitter,<br>But 'credat Judaeus Apella', say I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I know what they say, sir, 'The Hook' he can stay, sir,<br>And stick to his work like a sleuth-hound or beagle;<br>He stays 'with a HOOK', and he sticks in the clay, sir;<br>I'd rather, for choice, pop my money on Seagull;<br>I'm told that the Sydney division will rue, sir,<br>Their rashness in front of the stand when they spy,<br>With a clear lead, the white jacket spotted with blue, sir,<br>But 'credat Judaeus Apella', say I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There's The Barb-you may talk of your flyers and stayers,<br>All bosh-when he strips you can see his eye range<br>Round his rivals, with much the same look as Tom Sayers<br>Once wore when he faced the big novice, Bill Bainge.<br>Like Stow, at our hustings, confronting the hisses<br>Of roughs, with his queer Mephistopheles' smile;<br>Like Baker, or Baker's more wonderful MRS.,<br>The terror of blacks at the source of the Nile;<br>Like Triton 'mid minnows; like hawk among chickens;<br>Like-anything better than everything else:<br>He stands at the post. Now they're off! the plot thickens!<br>Quoth Stanley to Davis, 'How is your pulse?'<br>He skims o'er the smooth turf, he scuds through the mire,<br>He waits with them, passes them, bids them good-bye!<br>Two miles and three-quarters, cries Filgate, 'He'll tire.'<br>Oh! 'credat Judaeus Apella', say I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Lest my tale should come true, let me give you fair warning,<br>You may 'shout' some cheroots, if you like, no champagne<br>For this child-'Oh! think of my head in the morning,'<br>Old chap, you don't get me on that lay again.<br>The last time those games I look'd likely to try on,<br>Says Bradshawe, 'You'll feel very sheepish and shy<br>When you are haul'd up and caution'd by D--g--y and L--n,'<br>Oh! 'credat Judaeus Apella', say I.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">This writing bad verses is very fatiguing,<br>The brain and the liver against it combine,<br>And nerves with digestion in concert are leaguing,<br>To punish excess in the pen and ink line;<br>Already I feel just as if I'd been rowing<br>Hard all-on a supper of onions and tripe<br>(A thing I abhor), but my steam I've done blowing,<br>I am, my dear BELL, yours truly, 'The Pipe'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">P.S.-Tell J. P., if he fancies a good 'un,<br>That old chestnut pony of mine is for sale.<br>N.B.-His forelegs are uncommonly wooden,<br>I fancy the near one's beginning to fail,<br>And why shouldn't I do as W--n does oft,<br>And swear that a cripple is sound-on the Bible-<br>Hold hard! though the man I allude to is soft,<br>He's game to go in for an action of libel.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Part IV<br>Banker's Dream</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Of chases and courses dogs dream, so do horses-<br>Last night I was dozing and dreaming,<br>The crowd and the bustle were there, and the rustle<br>Of the silk in the autumn sky gleaming.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The stand throng'd with faces, the broadcloth and laces,<br>The booths, and the tents, and the cars,<br>The bookmakers' jargon, for odds making bargain,<br>The nasty stale smell of cigars.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We formed into line, 'neath the merry sunshine,<br>Near the logs at the end of the railing;<br>'Are you ready, boys? Go!' cried the starter, and low<br>Sank the flag, and away we went sailing.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the van of the battle we heard the stones rattle,<br>Some slogging was done, but no slaughter,<br>A shout from the stand, and the whole of our band<br>Skimm'd merrily over the water.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Two fences we clear'd, and the roadway we near'd,<br>When three of our troop came to trouble;<br>Like a bird on the wing, or a stone from a sling,<br>Flew Cadger, first over the double.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And Western was there, head and tail in the air,<br>And Pondon was there, too-what noodle<br>Could so name a horse? I should feel some remorse<br>If I gave such a name to a poodle.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In and out of the lane, to the racecourse again,<br>Craig's pony was first, I was third,<br>And Ingleside lit in my tracks, with the bit<br>In his teeth, and came up 'like a bird'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the van of the battle we heard the rails rattle,<br>Says he, 'Though I don't care for shunning<br>My share of the raps, I shall look out for gaps,<br>When the light weight's away with the running.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At the fence just ahead the outsider still led,<br>The chestnut play'd follow my leader;<br>Oh! the devil a gap, he went into it slap,<br>And he and his jock took a header.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Says Ingleside, 'Mate, should the pony go straight,<br>You've no time to stop or turn restive;'<br>Says I, 'Who means to stop? I shall go till I drop;'<br>Says he, 'Go it, old cuss, gay and festive.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The fence stiff and tall, just beyond the log wall,<br>We cross'd, and the walls, and the water,-<br>I took off too near, a small made fence to clear,<br>And just touch'd the grass with my snorter.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At the next post and rail up went Western's bang tail,<br>And down (by the very same token)<br>To earth went his nose, for the panel he chose<br>Stood firm and refused to be broken.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I dreamt someone said that the bay would have made<br>The race safe if he'd STOOD a while longer;<br>IF he had,-but, like if, there the panel stands stiff-<br>He stood, but the panel stood stronger.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In and out of the road, with a clear lead still show'd<br>The violet fluted with amber;<br>Says Johnson, 'Old man, catch him now if you can,<br>'Tis the second time round you'll remember.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At the road once again, pulling hard on the rein,<br>Craig's pony popp'd in and popp'd out;<br>I followed like smoke and the pace was no joke,<br>For his friends were beginning to shout.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And Ingleside came to my side, strong and game,<br>And once he appear'd to outstrip me,<br>But I felt the steel gore, and I shot to the fore,<br>Only Cadger seem'd likely to whip me.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the van of the battle I heard the logs rattle,<br>His stroke never seem'd to diminish,<br>And thrice I drew near him, and thrice he drew clear,<br>For the weight served him well at the finish.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Ha! Cadger goes down, see, he stands on his crown-<br>Those rails take a power of clouting-<br>A long sliding blunder-he's up-well, I wonder<br>If now it's all over but shouting.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">All loosely he's striding, the amateur's riding<br>All loosely, some reverie locked in<br>Of a 'vision in smoke', or a 'wayfaring bloke',<br>His poetical rubbish concocting.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now comes from afar the faint cry, 'Here they are,'<br>'The violet winning with ease,'<br>'Fred goes up like a shot,' 'Does he catch him or not?'<br>Level money, I'll take the cerise.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">To his haunches I spring, and my muzzle I bring<br>To his flank, to his girth, to his shoulder;<br>Through the shouting and yelling I hear my name swelling,<br>The hearts of my backers grow bolder.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Neck and neck! head and head! staring eye! nostril spread!<br>Girth and stifle laid close to the ground!<br>Stride for stride! stroke for stroke! through one hurdle we've broke!<br>On the splinters we've lit with one bound.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And 'Banker for choice' is the cry, and one voice<br>Screams 'Six to four once upon Banker;'<br>'Banker wins,' 'Banker's beat,' 'Cadger wins,' 'A dead heat'-<br>Ah! there goes Fred's whalebone a flanker.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Springs the whip with a crack! nine stone ten on his back,<br>Fit and light he can race like the devil;<br>I draw past him-'tis vain; he draws past me again,<br>Springs the whip! and again we are level.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Steel and cord do their worst, now my head struggles first!<br>That tug my last spurt has expended-<br>Nose to nose! lip to lip! from the sound of the whip<br>He strains to the utmost extended.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">How they swim through the air, as we roll to the chair,<br>Stand, faces, and railings flit past;<br>Now I spring * * *<br>from my lair with a snort and a stare,<br>Rous'd by Fred with my supper at last.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"> </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Part V<br>Ex Fumo Dare Lucem<br>['Twixt the Cup and the Lip]</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Prologue</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Calm and clear! the bright day is declining,<br>The crystal expanse of the bay,<br>Like a shield of pure metal, lies shining<br>'Twixt headlands of purple and grey,<br>While the little waves leap in the sunset,<br>And strike with a miniature shock,<br>In sportive and infantine onset,<br>The base of the iron-stone rock.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Calm and clear! the sea-breezes are laden<br>With a fragrance, a freshness, a power,<br>With a song like the song of a maiden,<br>With a scent like the scent of a flower;<br>And a whisper, half-weird, half-prophetic,<br>Comes home with the sigh of the surf;-<br>But I pause, for your fancies poetic<br>Never rise from the level of 'Turf'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fellow-bungler of mine, fellow-sinner,<br>In public performances past,<br>In trials whence touts take their winner,<br>In rumours that circulate fast,<br>In strains from Prunella or Priam,<br>Staying stayers, or goers that go,<br>You're much better posted than I am,<br>'Tis little I care, less I know.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Alas! neither poet nor prophet<br>Am I, though a jingler of rhymes-<br>'Tis a hobby of mine, and I'm off it<br>At times, and I'm on it at times;<br>And whether I'm off it or on it,<br>Your readers my counsels will shun,<br>Since I scarce know Van Tromp from Blue Bonnet,<br>Though I might know Cigar from the Nun.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">With 'visions' you ought to be sated<br>And sicken'd by this time, I swear<br>That mine are all myths self-created,<br>Air visions that vanish in air;<br>If I had some loose coins I might chuck one,<br>To settle this question and say,<br>'Here goes! this is tails for the black one,<br>And heads for my fav'rite the bay.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And must I rob Paul to pay Peter,<br>Or Peter defraud to pay Paul?<br>My rhymes, are they stale? if my metre<br>Is varied, one chime rings through all:<br>One chime-though I sing more or sing less,<br>I have but one string to my lute,<br>And it might have been better if, stringless<br>And songless, the same had been mute.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet not as a seer of visions,<br>Nor yet as a dreamer of dreams,<br>I send you these partial decisions<br>On hackney'd, impoverish'd themes;<br>But with song out of tune, sung to pass time,<br>Flung heedless to friends or to foes,<br>Where the false notes that ring for the last time,<br>May blend with some real ones, who knows?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>The Race</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>On the hill they are crowding together,<br>In the stand they are crushing for room,<br>Like midge-flies they swarm on the heather,<br>They gather like bees on the broom;<br>They flutter like moths round a candle-<br>Stale similes, granted, what then?<br>I've got a stale subject to handle,<br>A very stale stump of a pen.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Hark! the shuffle of feet that are many,<br>Of voices the many-tongued clang-<br>'Has he had a bad night?' 'Has he any<br>Friends left?'-How I hate your turf slang;<br>'Tis stale to begin with, not witty,<br>But dull, and inclined to be coarse,<br>But bad men can't use (more's the pity)<br>Good words when they slate a good horse.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Heu! heu! quantus equis (that's Latin<br>For 'bellows to mend' with the weeds),<br>They're off! lights and shades! silk and satin!<br>A rainbow of riders and steeds!<br>And one shows in front, and another<br>Goes up and is seen in his place,<br>Sic transit (more Latin)-Oh! bother,<br>Let's get to the end of the race.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* * * * *</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">See, they come round the last turn careering,<br>Already Tait's colours are struck,<br>And the green in the vanguard is steering,<br>And the red's in the rear of the ruck!<br>Are the stripes in the shade doom'd to lie long?<br>Do the blue stars on white skies wax dim?<br>Is it Tamworth or Smuggler? 'Tis Bylong<br>That wins-either Bylong or Tim.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">As the shell through the breach that is riven<br>And sapp'd by the springing of mines,<br>As the bolt from the thunder-cloud driven,<br>That levels the larches and pines,<br>Through yon mass parti-colour'd that dashes<br>Goal-turn'd, clad in many-hued garb,<br>From rear to van, surges and flashes<br>The yellow and black of The Barb.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Past The Fly, falling back on the right, and<br>The Gull, giving way on the left,<br>Past Tamworth, who feels the whip smite, and<br>Whose sides by the rowels are cleft;<br>Where Tim and the chestnut together<br>Still bear of the battle the brunt,<br>As if eight stone twelve were a feather,<br>He comes with a rush to the front.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Tim Whiffler may yet prove a Tartar,<br>And Bylong's the horse that can stay,<br>But Kean is in trouble-and Carter<br>Is hard on the satin-skinn'd bay;<br>And The Barb comes away unextended,<br>Hard held, like a second Eclipse,<br>While behind the hoof-thunder is blended<br>With the whistling and crackling of whips.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Epilogue</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>He wins; yes, he wins upon paper,<br>He hasn't yet won upon turf,<br>And these rhymes are but moonshine and vapour,<br>Air-bubbles and spume from the surf.<br>So be it, at least they are given<br>Free, gratis, for just what they're worth,<br>And (whatever there may be in heaven)<br>There's little worth much upon earth.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">When, with satellites round them the centre,<br>Of all eyes, hard press'd by the crowd,<br>The pair, horse and rider, re-enter<br>The gate, 'mid a shout long and loud,<br>You may feel, as you might feel, just landed<br>Full length on the grass from the clip<br>Of a vicious cross-counter, right-handed,<br>Or upper-cut whizzing from hip.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And that's not so bad if you're pick'd up<br>Discreetly, and carefully nursed;<br>Loose teeth by the sponge are soon lick'd up,<br>And next time you MAY get home first.<br>Still I'm not sure you'd like it exactly<br>(Such tastes as a rule are acquired),<br>And you'll find in a nutshell this fact lie,<br>Bruised optics are not much admired.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Do I bore you with vulgar allusions?<br>Forgive me, I speak as I feel,<br>I've pondered and made my conclusions-<br>As the mill grinds the corn to the meal;<br>So man striving boldly but blindly,<br>Ground piecemeal in Destiny's mill,<br>At his best, taking punishment kindly,<br>Is only a chopping-block still.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Are we wise? Our abstruse calculations<br>Are based on experience long;<br>Are we sanguine? Our high expectations<br>Are founded on hope that is strong;<br>Thus we build an air-castle that crumbles<br>And drifts till no traces remain,<br>And the fool builds again while he grumbles,<br>And the wise one laughs, building again.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'How came they to pass, these rash blunders,<br>These false steps so hard to defend?'<br>Our friend puts the question and wonders,<br>We laugh and reply, 'Ah! my friend,<br>Could you trace the first stride falsely taken,<br>The distance misjudged, where or how,<br>When you pick'd yourself up, stunn'd and shaken,<br>At the fence 'twixt the turf and the plough?'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">In the jar of the panel rebounding!<br>In the crash of the splintering wood!<br>In the ears to the earth shock resounding!<br>In the eyes flashing fire and blood!<br>In the quarters above you revolving!<br>In the sods underneath heaving high!<br>There was little to aid you in solving<br>Such questions-the how or the why.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And destiny, steadfast in trifles,<br>Is steadfast for better or worse<br>In great things, it crushes and stifles,<br>And swallows the hopes that we nurse.<br>Men wiser than we are may wonder,<br>When the future they cling to so fast,<br>To the roll of that destiny's thunder,<br>Goes down with the wrecks of the past.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">* * * * *</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The past! the dead past! that has swallow'd<br>All the honey of life and the milk,<br>Brighter dreams than mere pastimes we've follow'd,<br>Better things than our scarlet or silk;<br>Aye, and worse things-that past is it really<br>Dead to us who again and again<br>Feel sharply, hear plainly, see clearly,<br>Past days with their joy and their pain?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Like corpses embalm'd and unburied<br>They lie, and in spite of our will,<br>Our souls on the wings of thought carried,<br>Revisit their sepulchres still;<br>Down the channels of mystery gliding,<br>They conjure strange tales, rarely read,<br>Of the priests of dead Pharaohs presiding<br>At mystical feasts of the dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Weird pictures arise, quaint devices,<br>Rude emblems, baked funeral meats,<br>Strong incense, rare wines, and rich spices,<br>The ashes, the shrouds, and the sheets;<br>Does our thraldom fall short of completeness<br>For the magic of a charnel-house charm,<br>And the flavour of a poisonous sweetness,<br>And the odour of a poisonous balm?</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And the links of the past-but, no matter,<br>For I'm getting beyond you, I guess,<br>And you'll call me 'as mad as a hatter'<br>If my thoughts I too freely express;<br>I subjoin a quotation, pray learn it,<br>And with the aid of your lexicon tell us<br>The meaning thereof-'Res discernit<br>Sapiens, quas confundit asellus.'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Already green hillocks are swelling,<br>And combing white locks on the bar,<br>Where a dull, droning murmur is telling<br>Of winds that have gather'd afar;<br>Thus we know not the day, nor the morrow,<br>Nor yet what the night may bring forth,<br>Nor the storm, nor the sleep, nor the sorrow,<br>Nor the strife, nor the rest, nor the wrath.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=339857" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Yet the skies are still tranquil and starlit,<br>The sun 'twixt the wave and the west<br>Dies in purple, and crimson, and scarlet,<br>And gold; let us hope for the best,<br>Since again from the earth his effulgence<br>The darkness and damp-dews shall wipe.<br>Kind reader, extend your indulgence<br>To this the last lay of 'The Pipe'.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Adam+Lindsay+Gordon">Adam Lindsay Gordon</a></strong></div>

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