Herman Melville

“ The spirited horses bravely stem,
Snorting, half-blinded by their manes,
Nor let the current master them.
As the rope-dancer on the hair ⁠115
Poises the long slim pole in air;
Twirling their slender spears in pride,
Each horseman in imperiled seat
Blends skill and grace with courage meet. ”

“ Like otters when to land they go,
Riders and steeds how sleekly show. ⁠135
The first inquiring look they trace
Is gun by gun, as face by face:
Salute they yield, for arms they view
Inspire respect sincere and true. ”

“ Meantime, while in their bearing shows ⁠140
The thought which still their life attends,
And habit of encountering foes--
The thought that strangers scarce are friends--
What think the horses? Zar must needs
Be sociable ”