Читать книгу "Buffalo Bill" from Prairie to Palace - John M. Burke - Страница 8

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Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,

And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;

The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,

Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven’s thunder;

The iron bit he crushes ’tween his teeth,

Controlling what he was controlled with.

His ears up-pricked, his braided hanging mane

Upon his compassed crest now stands on end;

His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,

As from a furnace, vapors doth he send;

His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,

Shows his hot courage and his high desire.

Sometimes he trots, as if he told the steps

With gentle majesty and modest pride;

Anon he rears upright, curvets, and leaps,

As who should say, “Lo! thus my strength is tried;

And this I do to captivate the eye

Of the fair breeder that is standing by.”

What recketh he his rider’s angry stir,

His flattering “Holla,” or his “Stand, I say”? What cares he now for curb or pricking spur, For rich caparisons or trapping gay? He sees his love, and nothing else he sees, Nor nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Look! When a painter would surpass the life

In limning out a well-proportioned steed,

His art with nature’s workmanship at strife,

As if the dead the living should exceed,

So did this horse excel a common one,

In shape, in color, courage, pace, and bone.

Round-hoof’d, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,

Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostrils wide,

High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,

Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide.

Look! What a horse should have he did not lack,

Save a proud rider on so proud a back.