And then there before us as the bright flag is spread, There's a roar from the grand stand, and Tenny's ahead; At the sound of the voices that shouted, "A go!" He sprang like an arrow shot straight from the bow. I tighten the reins on Prince Charlie's great son; He is off like a rocket, the race is begun. Half-way down the furlong their heads are together, Scarce room 'twixt their noses to wedge in a feather; Past grand stand, and judges, in neck-to-neck strife, Ah, Salvator, boy, 'tis the race of your life! I press my knees closer, I coax him, I urge, I feel him go out with a leap and a surge; I see him creep on, inch by inch, stride by stride, While backward, still backward, falls Tenny beside. We are nearing the turn, the first quarter is passed-- 'Twixt leader and chaser the daylight is cast; The distance elongates; still Tenny sweeps on, As graceful and free-limbed and swift as a fawn, His awkwardness vanished, his muscles all strained-- A noble opponent well born and well trained.
I glanced o'er my shoulder; ha! Tenny! the cost Of that one second's flagging will be--the race lost; One second's yielding of courage and strength, And the daylight between us has doubled its length. The first mile is covered, the race is mine--no! For the blue blood of Tenny responds to a blow; He shoots through the air like a ball from a gun, And the two lengths between us are shortened to one. My heart is contracted, my throat feels a lump, For Tenny's long neck is at Salvator's rump; And now with new courage grown bolder and bolder, I see him once more running shoulder to shoulder. With knees, hands and body I press my grand steed; I urge him, I coax him, I pray him to heed! O Salvator! Salvator! List to my calls, For the blow of my whip will hurt both if it falls. There's a roar from the crowd like the ocean in storm, As close to the saddle leaps Tenny's great form; One mighty plunge, and with knee, limb and hand, I lift my horse first by a nose past the stand. We are under the string now--the great race is done-- And Salvator, Salvator, Salvator won!
Cheer, hoary-headed patriarchs; cheer loud, I say; 'Tis the race of a century witnessed to-day! Though ye live twice the space that's allotted to men Ye never will see such a grand race again. Let the shouts of the populace roar like the surf, For Salvator, Salvator, king of the turf, He has rivaled the record of thirteen long years; He has won the first place in the vast line of peers. 'Twas a neck-to-neck contest, a grand, honest race, And even his enemies grant him his place. Down into the dust let old records be hurled, And hang out 2:05 to the gaze of the world!