He loved his own Bucephalus, “back home,” as a dear friend, and looked forward to equal enjoyment in his new Blackamoor.
"So he mastered Bucephalus," said James Grey, when alone with his son.
He was a right fine lad, and he managed Bucephalus beautiful.
He dashed spurs into Bucephalus, and was off like an arrow from a bow.
In one of these battles he lost his faithful steed Bucephalus, which had borne him safely through many a fight.
His namesake, Alexander, could not have managed Bucephalus better than he.
Bucephalus deliberately awoke, and after a moment's pause moved on.
The tongue is a real Bucephalus, and it takes an Alexander to master him.
Yes, it was he, and Bucephalus seemed to know that he was traveling toward home.
Bucephalus was offered for sale to Philip by a Thessalian horse-jockey.