SHERIDAN'S RIDE Gives all that he hath for her smile. For when from her heights he hath won her, That nothing's so sacred as honor, And nothing's so loyal as love. We cannot make bargains for blisses, Nor gaining of great nor of small, But just in the doing and doing As we would be done by, by all. Through envy, through malice, through hating For he who is honest is noble Whatever his fortune or birth. ALICE CARY. SHERIDAN'S RIDE Up from the South at break of day, And Sheridan twenty miles away. 355 356 SHERIDAN'S RIDE And wider still those billows of war But there is a road from Winchester town, And there, through the flush of the morning light, Was seen to pass, as with eagle flight; He stretched away with his utmost speed; Under his spurning feet the road And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; The first that the General saw were the groups He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because SONG OF MARION'S MEN 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've brought you Sheridan all the way, From Winchester, down to save the day!" Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan! Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man! 357 THOMAS BUCHANAN READ. SONG OF MARION'S MEN OUR band is few but true and tried, The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our tent the cypress-tree; As seamen know the sea. Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass. 358 SONG OF MARION'S MEN Woe to the English soldiery A might host behind, And hear the tramp of thousands Upon the hollow wind. Then sweet the hour that brings release From danger and from toil; We talk the battle over, And share the battle's spoil. The woodland rings with laugh and shout, As if a hunt were up, And woodland flowers are gathered, To crown the soldiers' cup. That in the pinetop grieves, And slumber long and sweetly On the beds of oaken leaves. THE Spacious Firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And publishes to every land The work of an almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wond'rous tale, |