King of the West!

Hastings Standard, Issue 379, 22 July 1897, Page 4

King of the West!

(All lii'jhtu UcserccO.) (By Fabian DeLislk.) " King of the V/r.it !" How the sad refrain rings in my ageing cars, " King of the Went /" It, comes again through the mist of unshed tears ; And my heart goes bach io the grasslcss land, the brown land without rain, Oh ! What ivoiild I not give to ride old King of the West again ! There was never a horse by blood mare foaled could beat hiru o'er bush and fell, There was never a penny-a-liner told his doughty deeds too well; And I cherish the name of the horse I loved in the great old days of yore, The horse that carried me time and again, and carried me well to the fore. I rode him at Banker's Division where he won without turning a hair, And at Caulfield we met Confusion and King of the West got there ; He was furlongs in front of Prince William in the steeple for hunters at Bourke, And with top weight at Woodford one winter hewon by a lengtlifrom the Turk. But the race of my life was at Langford, where we met all the cracks of the place. Old King of the West was unasked for in National Grand Steeplechase ; Jim Parker rode Lance, and sixes were betted he'd come in alone, While tons went a-begging oil Conscript, who was giving the Lancer a stone. They had lumped the weight heavily on us, thirteen four was the stiff ner we got, And the light weights were looked on as certain and safe to upset the King's pot. The Ballarat stable was strongest with Strad, Mountain Maid and Reform, ♦ While Sydney sent Seashell and Frigate, who was likely to make the pace warm; From Caulfield Confusion and Conscript came over to battle for fame, And the West was right-well represented * by Crack, an old hand at the game. A gentleman rider from India who wanted some walers to race Had the mount on the Ballarat fancy, and he certainly collared the pace. Four miles was the journey, the fences got up like a hospital wall, The going was holding and heavy, and the light was the worst of it all. Trained as fine as the usual fiddle he came to the post fit aud well, And the shine onhiscoat would have rivalled the boots of a Collins-street swell ; I was hugging the rails when we started — the field totalled up twenty-nine— And the starter the third time of asking sent us off in a capital line. The first fence all sailed over flying, the light weighters merrily led And soberly plodding behind them across the big double we sped. At the stone wall we lost Jumping Johnny, andLizette came a cropper as well, The next fence, a double, grassed Brocas, and Lantern came down too pell-mell. At the stand Mountain Maid tried to cut it, and ran ofi' the Masher and Star, And the water was fatal to Frigate, who fell in a heap with Le Var. At two miles just thirteen were standing, the amateur pegging away With Crack and her stable companion battling hard to have the first say ; Confusion, Reform and the Lancer lay a length or so back, then the King, Whom I steadied and easied, came loping along like a bird on the wing. We were racing at top when a double skied Conscript and left me alone In front of the Ballarat stable with most of 'em pretty well blown. I thought I was safe, winning easy, when the flutter of silk reached my ear, And two furlongs ahead from the grandstand came roaring a thundering cheer ; Then a flash of white sleeves on my whip hand told of Strad, who was coming up fast, And before I could get old King going, he was at me, up to me, past ! His rush was chock full of " devil he gained quite a chain on my horse, And before I had got my mount racing we landed once more in the course— Then I rode as I never have ridden, I called 011 old King of the West; Each stride he came faster and faster, I felt he was doing his best; At the distance I collared the leader, the gent who was " all out " was game ; The ringmen were yelling like niggers, and the crowd in the Btand did the same. We raced neck and neck on the railings, cut for cut we each furnished alike, Stride for stride he held me and raced me, spur for spur we rode, strike for strike. " Strad," " Strad," " The King," " West" came roaring and surging like mad through my ears, Then I heard a deep curse from my rival in the clamour and thunder of cheers ; And wild was the joy that Assessed me as swift as the lightning we sped, When I found that the champion was failing and King of the West going ahead ; That moment comes back like a cyclone, Ye Gods ! 'twas a glorious thing When the fielders who danced round like madmen yelled " Way there ! Make way for The King! " Flashed the post as I threw his head for ward ; "A near thing, by jove ! " cried my foe, How near but few could determine, " A short nose " the judge said I know. He had come at me faster than ever, that gent was a demon to ride, For he fought every inch of that battle, and finished it right by my side. Then he offered me hundred on hundred, aye and followed with thousands as well, For King of the West my brave chaser, but I wanted all London to sell ! So I kept him at home on a pension, he died from decay years ago, # But green live the moments of triumph, the flood gates of memory flow. And sitting in silence and sunshine. I wistfully think of the chase, I hear every hoof stroke come pounding, I see my old King in his place ; The battalions Hash past me like rainbows, enveloped in dust, and the scene Strides home to my heart, sets me wishing once more to be what I have been. And my heart goes bach to the grassless land, the brown land without rain, Oh what would I not give to ride old King of the West again !