Her
Majesty has always liked to go fast by horse or steam-power, as though
determined not to let Time get ahead of her, for all his wings.
The poet then adds: "Her Majesty rides quite fearlessly and securely. I
met her party full gallop near the centre of Rotten Row. On came the
Queen, on a dun-colored, highly-groomed horse, with her Prime Minister on
one side of her, and Lord Byron on the other; her _cortege_ of Maids
of Honor, and Lords and Ladies of the Court checking their spirited
horses, and preserving always a slight distance between themselves and
Her Majesty. ... Victoria's round, plump figure looks exceedingly well in
her dark green riding-dress. ... She rode with her mouth open, and seemed
exhilarated with pleasure."
This was in 1839. Some years later, a young American writer, who shall be
nameless, but who was as passionate a lover of horses as the Queen
herself, wrote a sort of paean to horseback-riding. She began by telling
her friends, all whom it might concern, that when she was observed to be
low in her mind--when she seemed "weary of life," and to "shrink from its
strife"--when, in short, things didn't go well with her generally, they
were not to come to her with the soft tones or the tears of sympathy;
then she went on thus, rather pluckily, I think:
"No counsel I ask, and no pity I need,
But bring me, O bring me, my gallant young steed,
With his high-arched neck and his nostril spread wide;
His eye full of fire, and his step full of pride.
Pages:
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111