A thousand horse – and none to ride!
With flowing tail, and flying mane,
Wide nostrils never stretched by pain,
Mouth bloodless to the bit or rein,
And feet that never iron shod,
And flanks unscarred by spur or rod,
A thousand horse, the wild, the free,
Like waves that follow o’er the sea,
Came quickly thundering on.
Lord Byron, XVII, Mazeppa, 1818