AN OLD HORSE'S STORY.

I.

WHEN foaled upon yon rich home farm,

The grooms around like bees did swarm,

And they with sleepless hopes and fears
Close watched me in my early years;
No prince was tended with more care,
They neither time nor gold would spare
To rear me up a hardy steed,
As fitting one of noble breed.
My coat was such a lovely grey,
Its glossy hue was praised each day;
My taper head and beaming eye,
My depth of chest, and neck so high,
My well-formed limbs, so small yet strong,
They each and all praised loud and long.

II.

At length my filly years were passed,
And reins and saddle came at last,

I stamped and kicked with might and main
Against their bridle, bit, and rein,

Until they conquered me complete
And fast nailed iron on my feet;

When mouth was gagged, and feet were shod,
Ah! then my back got whip and rod,

And oft I thought it wondrous strange

That so much praise so soon could change.
Each day I shook for downright fear,
The training rogue lashed so severe,
And dreading ere it all would end
My very life they wished to spend ;
Alas! I feared some dismal fate,
For nothing seemed to damp their hate.
But, as my pride began to drop,
Their lash and spur began to stop,
And when I pride nor spirit showed,
The tide of praise again soon flowed.

Then I their aim began to see—
It was a tool they'd make of me;
And after this, my struggle past,
A princely life I led at last.

III.

Thinks I, since cringeing suits you best,
I'll copy Man in this at least,

And though my pride was often dampit,
I took their bit only to champ it;
I saw that men who best could crawl,
Were most employed by gentles all;
No sooner aped I man in this
Than flowed the tide of perfect bliss,
For just with horses, so with men,
Obedient creep and crawl again.
The man who cannot slavish think,
And oft on meanness cannot wink,
But dares to think he's Man as well
As yon gold-guarded, snobbish Swell,
Will be upon this world of pride
Just like a ship 'gainst wind and tide,
And scarce live on this selfish world
Until he has his spirit furled;
I dearly found this out myself,
That pliant bend was best for pelf.

My corn and hay, both followed faster,
When I was humble slave to master.

IV.

And now, all men who workmen are,
You're sure to get on better far,

To drop all proud, vain, self-willed notions,
For these are but the Devil's potions
To make you dull, and e'en morose,

And make all purse-proud men your foes,1
And change mean Discontent, to Sin,
To let him get his trump hand in :
Be busy both with hand and mind,
Then Satan's sure to lag behind;

1 "Curse not the king, no, not in thy thought; and curse not the rich in thy bedchamber: for a bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter."-Ecclesiastes x. 20.

1

Act always best to suit your station,
No matter what your occupation;
In Application, firm and sure,
Determined Labour won't be poor,
'Twill raise you up, as sure as fate,1
And make you happier than the great;
For Adam's badge is on the brow
Of useful toil, with peace, I trow.

V.

There is a skeleton with all—
A serpent too since that first fall,
And though the rich can hide it best,
Sin rankles deepest in their breast;
The very men you most extol

May have a burdened, tortured soul,
And were you once to change your place,
You'd start, like Panic, back apace!
You cannot all be masters high,
No more can I, a poor horse, fly.

The twinkling stars, would they be wise,
'Gainst God to fret, and leave the skies,
Because they were not sun nor moon,
But dark as Erebus at noon? 2
No! each has got his proper sphere,
The light though small can still be clear,
And so with you, in every state,
The poorest man can yet be great.
Your part act well-where'er it lies-
Though never seen by Mortal eyes,
Your audience sees you from the skies,
And each man here shall gain applause,
According as he's kept God's laws;
For honest Labour, even here,
Its own reward on Earth shall rear;
Yes! Diligence,-in every trade,

To gain Success, by God was made.

'Then will I (God) confess unto thee that thine own right hand can save thee."-Job xl. 14. "For wisdom is a defence, and money is a defence: but the excellency of knowledge is, that wisdom giveth life to them that have it.' -Ecclesiastes vii. 12. "A feast is made for laughter, and wine maketh merry: but money serveth all things."—Ibid x. 19.

2"There is one glory of the sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from another star in glory."--1 Corinthians xv. 41.

VI.

Why should you fret, when in your hand
You hold success at your command?
What would you be, if like poor horse,
You endless toiled, from bad to worse,
Without the chance or hope of gain,

Through labour lashed, though sick with pain,
With no reward on earth, or after,
But weaker grows, must toil the faster?
And if you listen to this tale,

You'll hear a horse's dying wail.

VII.

When I was young my life was gay,
Had plenty corn, new grass, and hay,
And each day taken out to air,

To keep my coat both sleek and fair;
And then with youthful strength entire,
And spirit's undiminished fire,
Myself, and comrade too, as fleet,
Did little else but play and eat

Washed and combed for Master's pleasure,
As if we were a lady's treasure-

Our feet were washed, our manes were tied,
With as much care as blooming Bride,

And all the comfort beasts could get,
As if we'd been a lap-dog pet;

Our very work was pleasant too,

For light and smooth our carriage drew;
Its wheels so slender, and so neat,
And gilded equipage complete-
It was a perfect treat to draw,
In shining harness, void of flaw.

Oh! how we reared when swinging fast,
Yon loaded stagers, galloped past,
Crushed by weight, or want, or age,
While we scarce felt our equipage.
I used to think their trade a curse,
Which made the better, seem the worse,
In daring to insult our pride

By running reeking by our side;

I thought that Trade should lowly lie
And let us Nobles pass it by,