Just a second too soon, and from some feet too far, Charles learned the mistake as he struck the top bar; Then the water flashed skywards, the earth gave a jar, And the man on Coranto looked back with "Aha! That'll teach you, my son." Then with straining of leather, Grey Glory and Monkery landed together. For a second the stunning kept Charles from his pain, Then his sense flooded back, making everything plain. He was down on the mud, but he still held the rein; Right Royal was heaving his haunch from the drain. The field was ahead of him, going like rain, And though the plough held them, they went like the wind To the eyes of a man left so badly behind. Charles climbed to his feet as Right Royal crawled out, He said, "That's extinction beyond any doubt." On the plough, on and on, went the rush of the rout. Charles mounted and rode, for his courage was stout, And he would not give in till the end of the bout, But plastered with poachings he rode on forsaken: He had lost thirty lengths and his horse had been shaken. Across the wet ploughland he took a good pull, With the thought that the cup of his sorrow was full, For the speed of a stag and the strength of a bull Could hardly recover the ground he had lost. Right Royal went dully, then snorted and tost, Tost his head, with a whicker, went on, and went kind, And the horse's great spirit touched Charles in the mind. Though his bruise made him dizzy and tears made him blind, He would try to the finish, and so they should find. He was last, thirty lengths. Here he took in his sails, For the field had come crash at the white post and rails. Here Sir Francis ran out, scaring all who stood near, Going crash through the rail like a runaway deer. Then the riderless Thankful upset Mutineer, Dakkanese, in refusing, wheeled round like a top Into Culverin's shoulder which made them both stop. They reeled from the shock, slithered sideways, and crashed, Dakkanese on the guard-rail which gave, and then smashed. As he rolled, the near shoes of the Culverin flashed High in air for a moment, bright iron in strain: Then he rose with no rider and tripped in his rein. Right Royal came up as the Dakkanese rose All trembling and cowed as though beaten with blows; The Culverin stumbled with the reins in his toes; On the far side the leap stood the Mutineer grazing, His man was a heap which some fellows were raising. Right Royal strode on, through a second wet plough, With the field far ahead (Kubbadar in the bow). Charles thought, "Kubbadar's got away from him now. Well, it's little to me, for they're so far ahead That they'll never come back, though I ride myself dead."