| |
| UP from the South at break of day, | |
| 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, | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| 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. | |
| |
| But there is a road from Winchester town, | 15 |
| 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 | 35 |
| Like an ocean flying before the wind, | |
| And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, | |
| Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire. | |
| But lo! he is nearing his heart’s desire; | |
| He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, | 40 |
| With Sheridan only five miles away. | |
| |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| 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! | 55 |
| 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, | 60 |
| “Here is the steed that saved the day, | |
| By carrying Sheridan into the fight, | |
| From Winchester, twenty miles away!” | |
| |
