A sweat-dripping horse and a half-naked myall, And a message: 'Come out to the back of the run Be out at the stake-yards by rising of sun! Ride hard and fail not! there's the devil to pay:...
The western sun, ere he sought his lair, Skimm'd the treetops, and glancing thence, Rested awhile on the curling hair Of Kitty McCrae, by the boundary fence; Her eyes looked anxious, her cheeks were pale,...