Poems (Sewell)/The Horse and the Colt

by Mary Young Sewell

THE HORSE AND THE COLT. A FABLE.

In times of yore, a sprightly Steed,Who boasted much his youthful speed,And scorn'd, with pride, the narrow bound,Which fix'd him in a sober ground;Resolv'd to try one bold endeavour,And make his fortune, now or never!—Impetuous, ardent, wild and young,O'er the strict fence he lightly sprung,And darting to the distant way,He look'd around him, blythe and gay; And shook his mane, and prick'd his ears,Disdaining caution—foes, and fears!And casting round a pitying eyeOn ev'ry post-horse trotting by.—At length, a calm and quiet beast,Who neither seem'd to fast nor feast,Who never went one jot the fasterThan rule prescrib'd him, and his master—Who waited now, to know his pleasure,With looks content, and careless leisure,Bespoke the lively courser gay,With such respect as Houyhnnhmms^[1] pay.—"My friend," he cried, "you seem a stranger;"As night comes on, there may be danger! "There seems a fair and tempting road,"Where beauteous verdure is bestow'd;"But there's a Gulph—and tho' they say,"By some 'tis thought the shortest way,"Yet pray, my friend, accept advice,"And take this Road, tho' not so nice."

"I thank you, sir," rejoin'd the steed,"I want no such advice indeed!"I'm young and strong, and there's an end on't;"I'll reach the city first, depend on't."

Away he flew—the path was charming;But soon the danger prov'd alarming:The slipp'ry bank and muddy soil,Defied his speed, and all his toil.— With rage, vexation, and disdain,He's forc'd to try the road again,And scarce, with all his pow'r and might,Cou'd keep his sober friend in sight.At length, poor Dobbin turn'd discreetly,And saw his triumph now completely!—"Now own, my friend," he mildly said,"How youthful ardour turns the head!"I gave advice—you was my debtor,"But lik'd your own experience better;"Had not ambition been your foe,"You'd gain'd this spot, an hour ago!"The flow'ry meads may charm your view,"But when a journey you pursue,"You'll find it wisest—safest—best,"To bear a bridle like the rest."Let temp'rate Patience be your guide,"'Tis worth a thousand tricks beside! In ev'ry road, to horse tenacious,"There's mire and clay, and steps vexatious,"And tho' you scamper not so fast,"You'll safely reach the end at end."

To sprightly Youth, that takes its flight,Ambitious of a noble height,And scorns the steps of slow Gradation,Let Patience make the Application.

1. Alluding to Swift's whimsical account of a voyage to the Houyhnnhmms.