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And as upon the muster-ground he dash'd, |
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Ruling his fiery steed with master's hand, |
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Envy herself her teeth had vainly gnash'd, |
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Nor hop'd against his merit's praise to stand. |
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The elder knights who bore the chief command |
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Surpris'd behold how well his rein he guides, |
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And e'en the warlike monarch of the land, |
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Twisting his long mustachios to both sides, |
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Exclaims with haughty glance, "How well that coxcomb rides!" |