Let the fur-clad Laplander boast
Of the reindeer’s bird-like speed;
Let the Arab, for riding post,
Bet high on his mettlesome steed;
Let the Briton talk loud of the chase
With the fox, or the hare, or the stag;
Let the Yankee, stark mad in the race,
Count miles by the minutes, and brag;
The bird of the desert is ours—
Competitors all we defy—
A bird of such wonderful powers—
We scarce know if we ride or we fly.
You have all of the hippogriff heard,
For mettle and speed a rare thing,
Half-breed betwixt courser and bird,
Keeping pace with foot and with wing.
The bird of the desert is he,
The ostrich of beautiful plume,
Skimming earth, as a swallow the sea,
Or an eagle the lofty blue dome.
He laughs at the speed of the hind,
For pursuers he feels no concern,
He travels ahead of the wind,
And leaves the dull lightning astern.