A man a palfrey long possess'd, A quiet, serviceable beast; Spavin'd, indeed, and somewhat blind, But still his way he well could find; And if he stumbled now and then, Was soon upon his feet again. In short, for many a year, the pack Had borne him safely on his back. Till riding out one fatal day, He overheard some coxcombs say, "For such a man, 'tis quite a shame, To mount a horse old, blind, and lame." "Aye," replied one, "I know a steed Would nobly carry him indeed; Young, vigorous, beautiful, and sound; His like is nowhere to be found." In evil hour an ear he lent, To view this boasted courser went: Unwary on his back he got, And tried to put him on a trot; He rear'd and plung'd, and leap'd about, Till from his seat he shook him out, Then kicking, pitch'd him o'er his head, And laid him on the pavement dead. The vicious creature left at large, On all his fury would discharge; This from behind his heels surprise, Trod under foot, that sprawling lies: Another, who would seize the reins, Is bit and mangled for his pains. But want of nourishment and rest Will tame at last the fiercest beast; And rage itself suspends its course, Exhausted by its proper force. Light'ning no more his eyes inspire, No more his nostrils snorted fire; At bay he stood, fatigu'd and lank, With flagging ears, and beating flank. An active jockey, stout and able, Contracts to bring him to the stable; Soothes, and his neck begins to pat, And the corn rattles in his hat; By hunger drawn, repell'd by fear, The courser neighs, retires, comes near; Lur'd with the smell, begins to eat. The jockey vaulted in the seat: With vigorous hand the bridle plied, And stuck the rowels in his side. Some bounds and curvets still he made, But soon submissively obey'd. The horseman who such skill had shown, Resolv'd to keep him for his own: Aware that constant work alone Can keep this wicked spirit down He night and day is on his back, To lead him to some new attack, No road is safe, nor far nor near, This highwayman is every where.