Anyone else think it's really weird that's there's no classic literature about horses? Horses were supposedly the main mode of transportation for several decades before the 1900s, yet there's almost no great works of literature written by people about their horses. Meanwhile there's supposedly been several songs since the 1900s about cars. It's just weird when you stop to think about it.
>>25237316But anon, how could you forget about the most famous steed of all?https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rocinante
>>25237322>most famous steedThat's like saying "but what about [the least annoying disco song]?"
Start with the Australians.
>>25237316Black Beauty
>>25237322I relate to Rocinante a lot, I really do. I rarely relate to literaty figures this much beyond the protag of The Idiot and evil Baudelaire
>>25237345>filtered by discoyou are a faggot
>>25237322I'm more of a Bucephalus man>>25237402Does he develop a personality at some point in the book? I only read part of it>>25237459Not relevant, no one cares
>>25237523I'm sorry :(
>>25237316There was movement at the station, for the word had passed aroundThat the colt from old Regret had got away,And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and farHad mustered at the homestead overnight,For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,And the stockhorse snuffs the battle with delight.There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup,The old man with his hair as white as snow;But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up -He would go wherever horse and man could go.And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand,No better horseman ever held the reins;For never horse could throw him while the saddle girths would stand,He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast,He was something like a racehorse undersized,With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die -There was courage in his quick impatient tread;And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye,And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,And the old man said, "That horse will never doFor a long a tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away,Those hills are far too rough for such as you."So he waited sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend -"I think we ought to let him come," he said;"I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end,For both his horse and he are mountain bred."He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side,Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough,Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,The man that holds his own is good enough.And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home,Where the river runs those giant hills between;I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam,But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump -They raced away towards the mountain's brow, And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump, No use to try for fancy riding now. And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills, For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, If once they gain the shelter of those hills."
>>25237550So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing Where the best and boldest riders take their place, And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face. Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view, And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, And off into the mountain scrub they flew.Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black Resounded to the thunder of their tread, And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back From cliffs and crags that beetled overhead. And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way, Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide; And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day, No man can hold them down the other side."When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull, It well might make the boldest hold their breath, The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full Of wombat holes, and any slip was death. But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head, And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer, And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed, While the others stood and watched in very fear.He sent the flint stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, He cleared the fallen timber in his stride, And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat - It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride. Through the stringybarks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground, Down the hillside at a racing pace he went; And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound, At the bottom of that terrible descent.He was right among the horses as they climbed the further hill, And the watchers on the mountain standing mute, Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely, he was right among them still,As he raced across the clearing in pursuit. Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met In the ranges, but a final glimpse reveals On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, With the man from Snowy River at their heels.
>>25237553And he ran them single-handed till their sides were white with foam. He followed like a bloodhound on their track, Till they halted cowed and beaten, then he turned their heads for home, And alone and unassisted brought them back. But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely raise a trot, He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur; But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, For never yet was mountain horse a cur.And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise Their torn and rugged battlements on high, Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze At midnight in the cold and frosty sky, And where around The Overflow the reed beds sweep and sway To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide, The man from Snowy River is a household word today, And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.
>>25237316Have you never read Black Beauty?
Here's an example of a book about horses
>>25237316>no literature about horses>many songs about carsHow are songs and literature comparable?
>>25237316Reitvorschrift für eine GeliebteFarewell to the Horse
>>25237538Its okay I kind of like some stuff by the Village People, The Bee Gees, and KC & The Sunshine Band
>>25237523>Does he develop a personality at some point in the book?Kinda. At one point he causes a fight between Don Quixote and some peasants when he wanders off and tries humping another horse belonging to them. He’s basically just as gross as his handlers while also being impulsive.
>>25237823That's fake mainstream disco
>>25237316Why isn't there any literature about pigeons? They were mans constant friend until the invention of the Telegram
>>25237577songs are poems
>>25237387>Black Beauty (1877 England)Was coming to post this. A lot of people have to read this in school when they are younger.
>>25237387One I had to read when younger was When The Legends Die 1963 American novel by Hal Borland that was made into a 1972 film (pictured)Never saw the movie. Book was a quick read paperback that still jumps out to me for the memorable horse scenes. Like trying to ride the toughest bucking horse out there, becoming one with the horse when you finally accomplished it, love the way the book opened that up for you and makes it a part of your life
Pulitzer Prize winner Maxine Kumin was the U.S. Poet Laureate in the early 1980s>In Deep: Country Essays (1987) is a collection of gorgeously written non-fiction essays focusing on her experiences living on a New Hampshire farm. The essays explore the intersection of rural life, nature, and the care of horses
>>25237893song lyrics are poems, songs are not
Gulliver's Travels, part 4
