Right Royal | Page 9

the poor Turk's grave on two men hurt.
Right Royal landed. With cheers and laughter
Some horses passed
him and some came after;
A fine brown horse strode up beside him,

It was Thankful running with none to ride him;
Thankful's rider,
dizzy and sick,
Lay in the mud by Bitter Dick.
In front, was the curving street of Course,
Barred black by the leaps
unsmashed by horse.
A cloud blew by and the sun shone bright,

Showing the guard-rails gleaming white.
Little red flags, that gusts
blew tense,
Streamed to the wind at each black fence.
And smiting the turf to clods that scattered
Was the rush of the race,
the thing that mattered,
A tide of horses in fury flowing,
Beauty of
speed in glory going,
Kubbadar pulling, romping first,
Like a big
black fox that had made his burst.
And away and away and away they went,
A visible song of what life
meant.
Living in houses, sleeping in bed,
Going to business, all
seemed dead,
Dead as death to that rush in strife
Pulse for pulse
with the heart of life.
"For to all," Charles thought, "when the blood beats high
Comes the
glimpse of that which may not die;
When the world is stilled, when

the wanting dwindles,
When the mind takes light and the spirit
kindles,
One stands on a peak of this old earth."
Charles eyed his horses and sang with mirth.
What of this world that
spins through space?
With red blood running lie rode a race,
The
beast's red spirit was one with his,
Emulous and in ecstasies;
Joy
that from heart to wild heart passes
In the wild things going through
the grasses;
In the hares in the corn, in shy gazelles
Running the sand where no
man dwells;
In horses scared at the prairie spring;
In the dun deer
noiseless, hurrying;
In fish in the dimness scarcely seen,
Save as
shadows shooting in a shaking green;
In birds in the air,
neck-straining, swift,
Wing touching wing while no wings shift,

Seen by none, but when stars appear
A reaper wandering home may
hear
A sigh aloft where the stars are dim,
Then a great rush going
over him:
This was his; it had linked him close
To the force by
which the comet goes,
With the rein none sees, with the lash none
feels,
But with fire-mane tossing and flashing heels.
The roar of the race-course died behind them,
In front were their
Fates, they rode to find them,
With the wills of men, with the
strengths of horses,
They dared the minute with all their forces.
PART II
Still pulling double, black Kubbadar led,
Pulling his rider half over
his head;
Soyland's cream jacket was spotted with red,
Spotted with
dirt from the rush of their tread.
Bright bay Sir Lopez, the loveliest there,
Galloped at ease as though
taking the air,
Well in his compass with plenty to spare.
Gavotte
and The Ghost and the brown Counter Vair,
Followed him close with
Syringa the mare,
And the roan horse Red Ember who went like a

hare,
And Forward-Ho bolting, though his rider did swear.
Keeping this order, they reached the next fence,
Which was living
plashed blackthorn with gorse-toppings dense; In the gloom of its
darkness it loomed up immense.
Forward-Ho's glory had conquered
his sense
And he rushed it, not rising, and never went thence.
And down in the ditch where the gorse-spikes were scattered, That
bright chestnut's soul from his body was shattered,
And his rider shed
tears on the dear head all spattered.
King Tony came down, but got up with a stumble,
His rider went
sideways, but knew how to tumble,
And got up and remounted,
though the pain made him humble,
And he rode fifty yards and then
stopped in a fumble.
With a rush and a crashing Right Royal went over
With the stride of a
stalwart and the blood of a lover,
He landed on stubble now pushing
with clover.
And just as he landed, the March sun shone bright
And the blue sky
showed flamelike and the dun clouds turned white; The little larks
panted aloft their delight,
Trembling and singing as though one with
the light.
And Charles, as he rode, felt the joy of their singing,
While over the
clover the horses went stringing,
And up from Right Royal the
message came winging,
"It is my day to-day, though the pace may be
stinging,
Though the jumps be all danger and the going all clinging." The white,
square church-tower with its weather-cocks swinging, Rose up on the
right above grass and dark plough
Where the elm trees' black
branches had bud on the bough.
Riderless Thankful strode on at his side,
His bright stirrup-irons flew

up at each stride,
Being free, in this gallop, had filled him with pride.

Charles thought, "What would come, if he ran out or shied?
I wish
from my heart that the brute would keep wide."
Coranto drew up on
Right Royal's near quarter,
Beyond lay a hurdle and ditch full of
water.
And now as they neared it, Right Royal took heed
Of the distance to
go and the steps he would need;
He cocked to the effort with eyes
bright as gleed,
Then Coranto's