Once to a horse-fair,-it
may perhaps have been
Where other things are bought and
sold,-I mean
At the Haymarket,-there
the muses horse
A hungry poet brought-to
sell, of course.
The hippogriff neighed shrilly,
loudly,
And reared upon his hind-legs proudly;
In utter wonderment each stood and
cried:
The noble regal beast!
But, woe betide!
Two hideous wings his slender form
deface,
The finest team he else would not
disgrace.
The breed, said they,
is doubtless rare,
But who would travel through the
air?
Not one of them would risk his gold.
At length a farmer grew more bold:
As for his wings, I of no
use should find them,
But then how easy tis to
clip or bind them!
The horse for drawing may be useful
found,-
So, friend, I dont mind giving
twenty pound!
The other glad to sell his merchandise,
Cried, Done!-and
Hans rode off upon his prize.
The noble creature was, ere long,
put-to,
But scarcely felt the unaccustomed
load,
Than, panting to soar upwards, off
he flew,
And, filled with honest anger, overthrew
The cart where an abyss just
met the road.
Ho! ho! thought Hans:
No cart to this mad beast
Ill trust. Experience
makes one wise at least.
To drive the coach to-morrow now
my course is,
And he as leader in the team
shall go.
The lively fellowll save
me full two horses;
As years pass on, hell
doubtless tamer grow.
All went on well at first.
The nimble steed
His partners roused,-like
lightning was their speed.
What happened next? Toward
heaven was turned his eye,-
Unused across the solid ground to
fly,
He quitted soon the safe and beaten
course,
And true to natures strong
resistless force,
Ran over bog and moor, oer
hedge and pasture tilled;
An equal madness soon the other
horses filled-
No reins could hold them in, no
help was near,
Till,-only picture the
poor travellers fear!-
The coach, well shaken, and completely
wrecked,
Upon a hills steep top at
length was checked.
If this is always sure to
be the case,
Hans cried, and cut a very sorry
face,
Hell never do to draw
a coach or wagon;
Lets see if we cant
tame the fiery dragon
By means of heavy work and little
food.
And so the plan was tried.-But
what ensued?
The handsome beast, before three
days had passed,
Wasted to nothing. Stay!
I see at last!
Cried Hans. Be quick,
you fellows! yoke him now
With my most sturdy ox before the
plough.
No sooner said than done. In
union queer
Together yoked were soon winged
horse and steer.
The griffin pranced with rage, and
his remaining might
Exerted to resume his old-accustomed
flight.
Twas all in vain-his
partner stepped with circumspection,
And Phoebus haughty steed
must follow his direction;
Until at last, by long resistance
spent,
When strength his limbs no
longer was controlling,
The noble creature, with affliction
bent,
Fell to the ground, and in
the dust lay rolling.
Accursed beast! at
length with fury mad
Hans shouted, while he soundly
plied the lash,-
Even for ploughing, then,
thou art too bad!-
That fellow was a rogue to
sell such trash!
Ere yet his heavy blows had ceased
to fly,
A brisk and merry youth by chance
came by.
A lute was tinkling in his hand,
And through his light and
flowing hair
Was twined with grace a golden band.
Whither, my friend,
with that strange pair?
From far he to the peasant cried.
A bird and ox to one rope
tied-
Was such a team eer heard
of, pray?
Thy horses worth Id
fain essay;
Just for one moment lend him me,-
Observe, and thou shalt wonders
see!
The hippogriff was loosened from
the plough,
Upon his back the smiling youth
leaped now;
No sooner did the creature understand
That he was guided by a master-hand,
Than ginst his bit he champed,
and upward soared
While lightning from his flaming
eyes outpoured.
No longer the same being, royally
A spirit, ay, a god, ascended he,
Spread in a moment to the stormy
wind
His noble wings, and left the earth
behind,
And, ere the eye could follow him,
Had vanished in the heavens dim.
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