Word: steeds
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...theatricals in aid of the Boat-Club, given last evening in Boston, at Union Hall, by the Sophomores, were among the best of their kind. The hesitations and accidents were unusually few, and, except the decapitation of a war-steed, at which critical moment the presence of mind of Sir Guy saved the day, no serious casualty occurred. Mr. Urquhart made a very pretty girl, and Mr. Wright an imposing queen. Darnley's part was played gracefully and well, and that of the rollicking King of the French admirably taken; and in fact, all did so well that to particularize...
...Shah-Nameh," the history of the ancient kings of Persia. Or why did Mr. Emerson not speak of the "Adventures and Improvisations of Kourroglou," the bandit minstrel of North Persia, whose heroes remind one of those of "Cervantes and Ariosto"? Kourroglou's lament at the death of his steed Ayrat is one of the most beautiful and pathetic elegies in Oriental literature. Why did not Mr. Emerson expatiate on those three bright stars of the literary firmament, and why did he pass over with so little notice Omar Khayyam? Simply because, instead of dwelling on the lesser luminaries, he chose...
...curb the steed's impetuous spring...
...soon as the disorder was a little quieted, Alexander the great Macedonian equestrian entered the ring, accompanied by his fiery steed Bucephalus. Alexander threw a somersault in the air and landed on the head of Bucephalus, after which Bucephalus threw a somersault in the air and landed upon the head of Alexander. Horse and rider then threw simultaneous somersaults through tissue-paper hoops held by the Clown, with such agility that Diogenes was heard to observe, "If I were not Alexander, I should wish to be Bucephalus." The Highland Fling performed on a tight rope by the nine Muses followed...
...drove down into the village, and reasoned with that horse (illustrating liberally with cuts) to so good purpose that he tore through the main street of the village at a rate that brought half the population to the doors to see your skilful handling of the impetuous steed, the kindling of whose sudden fire they fortunately did not witness. And how about your waiting that Sunday till service had begun, and then marching down to the front of the broad-aisle with - No, I will stop. You evidently have none of the Jim-Fisk...