It seemed a ghostly army

Had passed him as he slept:
But mightier than enchantment

Was that whose magic wove

The spell that hushed their voices—

Deepest reverence and love.

1866.

CAVALRY-SONG

(BY ELBRIDGE J. CUTLER)

The squadron is forming, the war-bugles play:
To saddle, brave comrades, stout hearts for a fray!
Our captain is mounted-strike spurs and away!

No breeze shakes the blossoms or tosses the grain,
But the wind of our speed floats the galloper's mane
As he feels the bold rider's firm hand on the rein.

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5

Lo, dim in the starlight their white tents appear!
Ride softly, ride slowly, the onset is near!
More slowly, more softly, the sentry may hear!

Now fall on the Rebel-a tempest of flame!

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Strike down the false banner whose triumph were shame!
Strike, strike for the true flag, for Freedom and Fame!

Hurrah, sheathe your swords! the carnage is done.
All red with our valor, we welcome the sun.

Up, up with the stars! we have won! we have won!

SHERIDAN'S RIDE

(BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ)

Up from the south, at break of day,

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1864.

Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,

The affrighted air with a shudder bore,

Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,

The terrible grumble and rumble and roar,

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Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

And wider still those billows of war
Thundered along the horizon's bar,
And louder yet into Winchester rolled
The roar of that red sea, uncontrolled,
Making the blood of the listener cold

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.

ΙΟ

But there is a road from Winchester town,

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A good broad highway leading down;

And there, through the flush of the morning light,

A steed as black as the steeds of night
Was seen to pass as with eagle flight,
As if he knew the terrible need:

20

He stretched away with his utmost speed;
Hills rose and fell, but his heart was gay,
With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south,
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth

25

Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster,
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster;

The heart of the steed and the heart of the master
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls,
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls:

30

Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play,

With Sheridan only ten miles away.

Under his spurning feet the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed;
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind;

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And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire,

Swept on with his wild eye full of fire.

But lo, he is nearing his heart's desire;

He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.

40

The first that the general saw were the groups

Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops,
What was done? what to do? a glance told him both;
Then Striking his spurs, with a terrible oath,

4.5

He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas,

And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because
The sight of the master compelled it to pause.

With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;

By the flash of his eye and the red nostril's play

He seemed to the whole great army to say,

"I have brought you Sheridan, all the way

From Winchester, down to save the day!"

Hurrah, hurrah, for Sheridan!

Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky
(The American soldiers' Temple of Fame),
There with the glorious general's name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright,
"Here is the steed that saved the day

By carrying Sheridan into the fight,

From Winchester, twenty miles away!"

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55

60

1865.

THE HIGH TIDE AT GETTYSBURG

(BY WILL HENRY THOMPSON)

Reprinted from The Century Magazine, with the permission of the author
A cloud possessed the hollow field,

The gathering battle's smoky shield:
Athwart the gloom the lightning flashed,

And through the cloud some horsemen dashed,
And from the heights the thunder pealed.

Then at the brief command of Lee
Moved out that matchless infantry,
With Pickett leading grandly down,
To rush against the roaring crown
Of those dread heights of destiny.

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

HOW OLD BROWN TOOK HARPER'S FERRY
John Brown in Kansas settled, like a steadfast Yankee farmer,
Brave and godly, with four sons, all stalwart men of might.
There he spoke aloud for Freedom, and the Border-strife grew
warmer,

Till the Rangers fired his dwelling, in his absence, in the night:
And Old Brown

Osawatomie Brown,

Came homeward in the morning-to find his house burned down.

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