A thousand horse and none to ride!; With flowing tail, and flying mane; Wide nostrils never stretched by pain; Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein; And feet that iron never shod; And flanks unscarred by spur or rod; A thousand horse, the wild, the free; Like waves that follow o'er the sea; Came thickly thundering on,.;
__Lord Byron, XVII, Mazeppa, 1818
As soon; Seek roses in December, ice in June;; Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff;; Believe a woman or an epitaph; Or any other thing that's false, before; You trust in critics;
__George Gordon, Lord Byron, "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers"