The brook in the dell they pa.s.s. One peers Between the leaves: "Ay, there"s the place-- There, on the oozy ledge--"twas there We found the body (Blake"s you know); Such whirlings, gurglings round the face-- Shot drinking! Well, in war all"s fair-- So Mosby says. The bough--take care!"
Hard by, a chapel. Flower-pot mould Danked and decayed the shaded roof; The porch was punk; the clapboards spanned With ruffled lichens gray or green; Red coral-moss was not aloof; And mid dry leaves green dead-man"s-hand Groped toward that chapel in Mosby-land.
They leave the road and take the wood, And mark the trace of ridges there-- A wood where once had slept the farm-- A wood where once tobacco grew Drowsily in the hazy air, And wrought in all kind things a calm-- Such influence, Mosby! bids disarm.
To ease even yet the place did woo-- To ease which pines unstirring share, For ease the weary horses sighed: Halting, and slackening girths, they feed, Their pipes they light, they loiter there; Then up, and urging still the Guide, On, and after Mosby ride.
This Guide in frowzy coat of brown, And beard of ancient growth and mould, Bestrode a bony steed and strong, As suited well with bulk he bore-- A wheezy man with depth of hold Who jouncing went. A staff he swung-- A wight whom Mosby"s wasp had stung.
Burnt out and homeless--hunted long!
That wheeze he caught in autumn-wood Crouching (a fat man) for his life, And spied his lean son "mong the crew That probed the covert. Ah! black blood Was his "gainst even child and wife-- Fast friends to Mosby. Such the strife.
A lad, unhorsed by sliding girths, Strains hard to readjust his seat Ere the main body show the gap "Twixt them and the read-guard; scrub-oaks near He sidelong eyes, while hands move fleet; Then mounts and spurs. One drop his cap-- "Let Mosby fine!" nor heeds mishap.
A gable time-stained peeps through trees: "You mind the fight in the haunted house?
That"s it; we clenched them in the room-- An ambuscade of ghosts, we thought, But proved sly rebels on a house!
Luke lies in the yard." The chimneys loom: Some muse on Mosby--some on doom.
Less nimbly now through brakes they wind, And ford wild creeks where men have drowned; They skirt the pool, a void the fen, And so till night, when down they lie, They steeds still saddled, in wooded ground: Rein in hand they slumber then, Dreaming of Mosby"s cedarn den.
But Colonel and Major friendly sat Where boughs deformed low made a seat.
The Young Man talked (all sworded and spurred) Of the partisan"s blade he longed to win, And frays in which he meant to beat.
The grizzled Major smoked, and heard: "But what"s that--Mosby?" "No, a bird."
A contrast here like sire and son, Hope and Experience sage did meet; The Youth was brave, the Senior too; But through the Seven Days one had served, And gasped with the rear-guard in retreat: So he smoked and smoked, and the wreath he blew-- "Any _sure_ news of Mosby"s crew?"
He smoked and smoked, eying the while A huge tree hydra-like in growth-- Moon-tinged--with crook"d boughs rent or lopped-- Itself a haggard forest. "Come"
The Colonel cried, "to talk you"re loath; D"ve hear? I say he must be stopped, This Mosby--caged, and hair close cropped."
"Of course; but what"s that dangling there"
"Where?" "From the tree--that gallows-bough; A bit of frayed bark, is it not"
"Ay--or a rope; did _we_ hang last?-- Don"t like my neckerchief any how"
He loosened it: "O ay, we"ll stop This Mosby--but that vile jerk and drop!"[23]
By peep of light they feed and ride, Gaining a grove"s green edge at morn, And mark the Aldie hills upread And five gigantic hors.e.m.e.n carved Clear-cut against the sky withdrawn; Are more behind? an open snare?
Or Mosby"s men but watchmen there?
The ravaged land was miles behind, And Loudon spread her landscape rare; Orchards in pleasant lowlands stood, Cows were feeding, a c.o.c.k loud crew, But not a friend at need was there; The valley-folk were only good To Mosby and his wandering brood.
What best to do? what mean yon men?
Colonel and Guide their minds compare; Be sure some looked their Leader through; Dismsounted, on his sword he leaned As one who feigns an easy air; And yet perplexed he was they knew-- Perplexed by Mosby"s mountain-crew.
The Major hemmed as he would speak, But checked himself, and left the ring Of cavalrymen about their Chief-- Young courtiers mute who paid their court By looking with confidence on their king; They knew him brave, foresaw no grief-- But Mosby--the time to think is brief.
The Surgeon (sashed in sacred green) Was glad "twas not for _him_ to say What next should be; if a trooper bleeds, Why he will do his best, as wont, And his partner in black will aid and pray; But judgment bides with him who leads, And Mosby many a problem breeds.
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 soph.o.m.ores 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 gra.s.s 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.
"But, Colonel, my prisoners--let a guard Make sure of them, and lead to camp.
That done, we"re free for a dark-room fight If so you say." The other laughed; "Trust me, Major, nor throw a damp.
But first to try a little sleight-- Sure news of Mosby would suit me quite."
Herewith he turned--"Reb, have a dram"
Holding the Surgeon"s flask with a smile To a young scapegrace from the glen.
"O yes!" he eagerly replied, "And thank you, Colonel, but--any guile?
For if you think we"ll blab--why, then You don"t know Mosby or his men."
The Leader"s genial air relaxed.