Who fill'd the Pail with Beestings of the Cow:
But all her Udder to the Calf allow.
If to the Warlike Steed thy Studies bend,285
Or for the Prize in Chariots to contend;
Near Pisa's Flood the rapid Wheels to guide,
Or in Olympian Groves aloft to ride,
The generous Labours of the Courser, first
Must be with sight of Arms and sounds of Trumpets nurst:
Inur'd the groaning Axle-tree to bear;291
And let him clashing Whips in Stables hear.
Sooth him with Praise, and make him understand
The loud Applauses of his Master's Hand:
This from his Weaning, let him well be taught;295
And then betimes in a soft Snaffle wrought:
Before his tender Joints with Nerves are knit;
Untry'd in Arms, and trembling at the Bit.
But when to four full Springs his years advance,
Teach him to run the round, with Pride to prance;
And (rightly manag'd) equal time to beat;301
To turn, to bound in measure; and Curvet.
Let him, to this, with easie pains be brought:
And seem to labour, when he labours not.
Thus, form'd for speed, he challenges the Wind;305
And leaves the Scythian Arrow far behind:
He scours along the Field, with loosen'd Reins;
And treads so light, he scarcely prints the Plains.
Like Boreas in his Race, when rushing forth,
He sweeps the Skies, and clears the cloudy North:310
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