FullReads

Ah! why should good fellows foemen be?
And who would dream that foes they were–
Larking and singing so friendly then–
A family likeness in every face.
But Captain Cloud made sour demur:
“Guard! keep your prisoners in the pen,
And let none talk with Mosby’s men.”

That captain was a valorous one
(No irony, but honest truth),
Yet down from his brain cold drops distilled,
Making stalactites in his heart–
A conscientious soul, forsooth;
And with a formal hate was filled
Of Mosby’s band; and some he’d killed.

Meantime the lady rueful sat,
Watching the flicker of a fire
Were the Colonel played the outdoor host
In brave old hall of ancient Night.
But ever the dame grew shyer and shyer,
Seeming with private grief engrossed–
Grief far from Mosby, housed or lost.

The ruddy embers showed her pale.
The Soldier did his best devoir:
“Some coffee?–no?–cracker?–one”
Cared for her servant–sought to cheer:
“I know, I know–a cruel war!
But wait–even Mosby’ll eat his bun;
The Old Hearth–back to it anon!”

But cordial words no balm could bring;
She sighed, and kept her inward chafe,
And seemed to hate the voice of glee–
Joyless and tearless. Soon he called
An escort: “See this lady safe
In yonder house.–Madam, you’re free.
And now for Mosby.–Guide! with me.”

(“A night-ride, eh?”) “Tighten your girths!
But, buglers! not a note from you.
Fling more rails on the fires–a blaze”
(“Sergeant, a feint–I told you so–
Toward Aldie again. Bivouac, adieu!”)
After the cheery flames they gaze,
Then back for Mosby through the maze.

The moon looked through the trees, and tipped
The scabbards with her elfin beam;
The Leader backward cast his glance,
Proud of the cavalcade that came–
A hundred horses, bay and cream:
“Major! look how the lads advance–
Mosby we’ll have in the ambulance!”

“No doubt, no doubt:–was that a hare?–
First catch, then cook; and cook him brown”
“Trust me to catch,” the other cried–
“The lady’s letter!–a dance, man, dance
This night is given in Leesburg town”
“He’ll be there too!” wheezed out the Guide;
“That Mosby loves a dance and ride!”

“The lady, ah!–the lady’s letter–
A lady, then, is in the case”
Muttered the Major. “Ay, her aunt
Writes her to come by Friday eve
(To-night), for people of the place,
At Mosby’s last fight jubilant,
A party give, though table-cheer be scant.”

The Major hemmed. “Then this night-ride
We owe to her?–One lighted house
In a town else dark.–The moths, begar!
Are not quite yet all dead!” “How? how”
“A mute, meek mournful little mouse!–
Mosby has wiles which subtle are–
But woman’s wiles in wiles of war!”

“Tut, Major! by what craft or guile–“
“Can’t tell! but he’ll be found in wait.
Softly we enter, say, the town–
Good! pickets post, and all so sure–
When–crack! the rifles from every gate,
The Gray-backs fire–dashes up and down–
Each alley unto Mosby known!”

“Now, Major, now–you take dark views
Of a moonlight night.” “Well, well, we’ll see”
And smoked as if each whiff were gain.
The other mused; then sudden asked,
“What would you do in grand decree”
I’d beat, if I could, Lee’s armies–then
Send constables after Mosby’s men.”

“Ay! ay!–you’re odd.” The moon sailed up;
On through the shadowy land they went.
“Names must be made and printed be!”
Hummed the blithe Colonel. “Doc, your flask!
Major, I drink to your good content.
My pipe is out–enough for me!
One’s buttons shine–does Mosby see?

“But what comes here?” A man from the front
Reported a tree athwart the road.
“Go round it, then; no time to bide;
All right–go on! Were one to stay
For each distrust of a nervous mood,
Long miles we’d make in this our ride
Through Mosby-land.–Oh! with the Guide!”