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The Surgeon was the kindliest man
That ever a callous trace professed;
He felt for him, that Leader young,
And offered medicine from his flask:
The Colonel took it with marvelous zest.
For such fine medicine good and strong,
Oft Mosby and his foresters long.

A charm of proof. “Ho, Major, come–
Pounce on yon men! Take half your troop,
Through the thickets wind–pray speedy be–
And gain their read. And, Captain Morn,
Picket these roads–all travelers stop;
The rest to the edge of this crest with me,
That Mosby and his scouts may see.”

Commanded and done. Ere the sun stood steep,
Back came the Blues, with a troop of Grays,
Ten riding double–luckless ten!–
Five horses gone, and looped hats lost,
And love-locks dancing in a maze–
Certes, but sophomores from the glen
Of Mosby–not his veteran men.

“Colonel,” said the Major, touching his cap,
“We’ve had our ride, and here they are”
“Well done! how many found you there”
“As many as I bring you here”
“And no one hurt?” “There’ll be no scar–
One fool was battered.” “Find their lair”
“Why, Mosby’s brood camp every where.”

He sighed, and slid down from his horse,
And limping went to a spring-head nigh.
“Why, bless me, Major, not hurt, I hope”
“Battered my knee against a bar
When the rush was made; all right by-and-by.–
Halloa! they gave you too much rope–
Go back to Mosby, eh? elope?”

Just by the low-hanging skirt of wood
The guard, remiss, had given a chance
For a sudden sally into the cover–
But foiled the intent, nor fired a shot,
Though the issue was a deadly trance;
For, hurled ‘gainst an oak that humped low over,
Mosby’s man fell, pale as a lover.

They pulled some grass his head to ease
(Lined with blue shreds a ground-nest stirred).
The Surgeon came–“Here’s a to-do”
“Ah!” cried the Major, darting a glance,
“This fellow’s the one that fired and spurred
Down hill, but met reserves below–
My boys, not Mosby’s–so we go!”

The Surgeon–bluff, red, goodly man–
Kneeled by the hurt one; like a bee
He toiled. The pale young Chaplain too–
(Who went to the wars for cure of souls,
And his own student-ailments)–he
Bent over likewise; spite the two,
Mosby’s poor man more pallid grew.

Meanwhile the mounted captives near
Jested; and yet they anxious showed;
Virginians; some of family-pride,
And young, and full of fire, and fine
In open feature and cheek that glowed;
And here thralled vagabonds now they ride–
But list! one speaks for Mosby’s side.

“Why, three to one–your horses strong–
Revolvers, rifles, and a surprise–
Surrender we account no shame!
We live, are gay, and life is hope;
We’ll fight again when fight is wise.
There are plenty more from where we came;
But go find Mosby–start the game!”

Yet one there was who looked but glum;
In middle-age, a father he,
And this his first experience too:
“They shot at my heart when my hands were up–
This fighting’s crazy work, I see”
But noon is high; what next do?
The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.

“Save what we’ve got,” the Major said;
“Bad plan to make a scout too long;
The tide may turn, and drag them back,
And more beside. These rides I’ve been,
And every time a mine was sprung.
To rescue, mind, they won’t be slack–
Look out for Mosby’s rifle-crack.”

“We’ll welcome it! give crack for crack!
Peril, old lad, is what I seek”
“O then, there’s plenty to be had–
By all means on, and have our fill”
With that, grotesque, he writhed his neck,
Showing a scar by buck-shot made–
Kind Mosby’s Christmas gift, he said.