The Man and His Horse
Within a Meadow, on the way,A sordid Churl resolv'd to stay,And give his Horse a Bite;Purloining so his Neighbours Hay,That at the Inn he might not payFor Forage all the Night.
With Heart's content th' unloaded SteedBegan to neigh, and frisk, and feed;For nothing more he car'd,Since none of all his Master's breedE'er found such Pasture, at their need,Or half so well had far'd.
When, in the turning of a Hand,Out comes the Owner of the Land,And do's the Trespass eye;Which puts poor Bayard to a Stand,For now his Master do's commandHim to return and fly.
But Hunger quick'ning up his Wit,And Grass being sweeter than the Bit,He to the Clown reply'd;Shall I for you this Dinner quit,Who to my Back hard Burdens fit,And to the Death wou'd ride?
No; shou'd I as a Stray be found,And seiz'd upon forbidden Ground,I'll on this Spot stand still;For tho' new Riders shou'd abound,(Or did Mankind this Field surround)They cou'd but use me ill.
Urge no Man to despair; lest in the FitHe with some Counterblow thy Head may hit.
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