Bell's Life in Sydney and Sporting Reviewer (NSW : 1845 - 1860), Saturday 7 June 1851, page 4
Voltigeur v. The Flying
Dutchman.
B Y THE D R U I D.
The Turf's Own Regulars all seem uncommon
blithe and gay ;
The Yorkshiremen are flocking into Doncaster
to-day.
On the tongues of all, from cardmen to the son
of royal Guelph ( 1 ),
Is heard—" Who beats The Dutchman (2) must
be Beelzebub himself."
So thought the hosts at Ascot, as past the chair
he flew,
Some ten lengths first, and well nigh burst the
heart of Canezou ;
Still Lord Zetland and Job Marson thus the
maxim dared to doubt—
" A colt at Aske his powers can task, and send
his pride to rout."
"Ho !" quoth the Earl of Eglinton ; "ye
Richmond sceptics, know
The Flying Dutchman ne'er shall strike the tar-
tan to a foe !
For three race seasons not one steed his power
has dared to stem,
And your Voltigeur he'll vanquish o'er "New-
market's T.M.M."
Then thus outspake Earl Zetland—" Old Time
and Fate, I trow,
Are weaving Loger garlands for my Derby win-
ner's brow.
That o'er, fling down the gauntlet, and I'll
boldly take it up :
'Tis Old England against Scotland : the prize
shall be the cup.*'
Three months have fled, and Russborough has
proved himself no serf.
The "champions" twain are saddling, in their
boxes at the Turf. (3)
The slashing cripple Surplice a parting blessing
neighs,
Then anxious waits and ruminates on speed of
other days.
Tho second bell is ringing ; nigh the rails the
crowd are crushing ;
Up Grand Stand stairs the bulls and bears of Turf Exchange are rushing.
" Five to one upon Tho Dutchman !" is heard
amid the hum
Of scores of voices that proclaim the welcome
sound, " They come !"
First, Fobert leads his favourite, while close
upon his rear
Stalks Lanky Jack, while James the Black acts
as a pioneer ;
Mid air the dusky digits of that sporting exile
float :
A cutaway enfolds his form, a tartan tie his
throat.
" Make way, my friend ! The Dutchman ! the
Dutchman, gentlemen !
Volti.'s no use ¡ he'll cook his goose, 'tis a hun-
dred to a hen.
He'll get licked, Jemmy !" " You be banged !
he'll just win in a trot ;
For the Derby all the winter on him I put my
pot."
On Bobby Hill and Voltigeur, as guard of hon-
our, waits
'The stalwart Richmond Vulcan, who fitted on
his plates.
To tempt him, though the Nobbler-Kings of
Europe should combine.
He wouldn't "quick" his favourite for a Cali-
fornian mine.
Nat puts him in a canter—why, e'en a child
could know him—
For see how workman-like he tucks his hinder-
legs below him.
A cracker from the distance The Flying Dutch-
man shoots,
And gives the crowd a specimen of Ascot seven-
league boots.
Still a trio 'mong the gazers his winning chance
deride :
Says Billy Oates—" I can't tell why, I don't
just like his stride."
" This time of year, fresh young-'uns here in
Cup-luck know no bounds,"
John Day declares ; who Topham swears,
" He can't give nineteen pounds."
Now Marlow finds, to his dismay, his temper's
not too sweet—
As if there coursed throughout his veins a pre-
science of defeat.
Like Kirby's " Lazy Lanercost," the young-
'un coolly lags.
And never cares to budge an inch till " Down
go both the flags."
"Hats off ! hats off !" The Dutchman leads.
My conscience ! he's just flying :
'While Voltigeur pulls double, and some six
lengths off is lying.
Why, all the way from 'Mericay 'tis well nigh
worth a trip,
Without a penny on the race—by Jove ! there
goes Nat's whip ! (4)
Their prime "quick movement" o'er the flat
does many a keen eye follow.
The crack leads still, and skims the hill as
blithely as a swallow,
" Ten to one upon The Dutchman !" He need
never hope to catch him ,
He'll distance him to certainty. What horse on
earth can match him !
They're whizzing o'er the T.Y.C., and either scorns to flinch :
They've passed the Champagne Starting Post,
and neither gains an inch.
" The Dutchman in a canter ! Nat can't get
up. No—wait ;
He's bringing out the young-'un." They're
past the Intack Gate !
" He's catching him !—the young-un wins !"
now strike on Marlow's car ;
The Blacklock stride he dared deride is thunder-
ing in his rear—
He's at his girth—he's reached his head—he
wins ! The Dutchman's done !
They've passed the chair. For young Voltaire
up goes a welcome " I."
The Ring stands pale. Forth speeds the tale,
which many a doubt inspires ;
From east to west, from north to south, it
glances o'er the wires :
From Richmond unto Middleham this message
quickly passed—
" Your conqueror of conquerors has bowed his
head at last."
Ye backers of young Voltlgeur, boast not too
much his strength.
Though Flying Dutchman " burst himself,"
'twas barely half a length.
Doubt as ye will, his heart is still as game as
Spanish steel :
And o'er, Knavesmire 'gainst that verdict he
will enter an appeal. —
(1 ) Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence.
(2) Lord George Bentinck's oppression when he first saw The Dutchman run.
(3) The Turf Tavern, the intended scene of Surplice's harem. Oddly enough, these three horses stood there on that day.
(4) I believe Nat lost his whip as he passed
the Stand in the first round.
The Great ( Expected ) Season of 1851.— Every one is expecting to make a fortune in the Great Exhibition Season of 1851. Beds are, by anticipation, going up in the environs of London, and a large broker, in Broker's-alley, is selling so many bedsteads that he is making a fortune at full gallop with four-posters. Some body has oven proposed to make the bed of the Serpentine available, and perhaps it would not be a bad idea to throw a Mackintosh cover across the whole surface, and thus turn it into one of those water beds which are sometimes so strenu-
ously recommended by "the faculty." The plan would have the double effect of hiding an offensive object and promoting the convenience of the public ; while the Serpentine itself is well
adapted for the purpose of repose, as when any thing is said about cleansing the river the authorities seem determined to go to sleep upon it.— Punch.