A stingy traveler stops in a meadow to let his horse fill up on stolen grass, happy to dodge the cost of hay at the inn. The unloaded animal goes blissfully at the feed, enjoying better pasture than his master ever gave him. Then the landowner appears, and the man panics, ordering his horse to run. But the horse—suddenly sharpened by hunger—refuses. The grass is sweeter than the bit, he says. Why bolt from a good meal for someone who loads him with heavy burdens and rides him to exhaustion? Even stuck as a stray on forbidden ground, any new rider could only use him just as ill. So he stands firm. Told with a fable’s brisk, wry logic, the poem’s real charge comes from the horse’s matter-of-fact defiance. That final couplet turns the screw: push anyone into despair, and don’t be surprised when they strike back.
The Man And His Horse — Summary
Within a Meadow, on the way, A sordid Churl resolv'd to stay, And give his Horse a Bite; Purloining so his Neighbours Hay, That at the Inn he might not pay For Forage all the Night.
With Heart's content th' unloaded Steed Began to neigh, and frisk, and feed; For nothing more he car'd, Since none of all his Master's breed E'er found such Pasture, at their need, Or half so well had far'd.
When, in the turning of a Hand, Out comes the Owner of the Land, And do's the Trespass eye; Which puts poor Bayard to a Stand, For now his Master do's command Him to return and fly.
But Hunger quick'ning up his Wit, And Grass being sweeter than the Bit, He to the Clown reply'd; Shall I for you this Dinner quit, Who to my Back hard Burdens fit, And to the Death wou'd ride?
No; shou'd I as a Stray be found, And seiz'd upon forbidden Ground, I'll on this Spot stand still; For tho' new Riders shou'd abound, (Or did Mankind this Field surround) They cou'd but use me ill.
Urge no Man to despair; lest in the Fit He with some Counterblow thy Head may hit.