Drifting

The fisher's child,

With tresses wild,

Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,

With glowing lips.

Sings as she skips,

Or gazes at the far-off ships.

Yon deep bark goes

Where Traffic blows,

From lands of sun to lands of snows;-
This happier one,

Its course is run

From lands of snow to lands of sun.

O happy ship,

To rise and dip,

With the blue crystal at your lip!

O happy crew,

My heart with you

Sails, and sails, and sings anew!

No more, no more

The worldly shore

Upbraids me with its loud uproar !
With dreamful eyes

My spirit lies

Under the walls of Paradise!

XV

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To this generation he is best known as the author of "Sheridan's Ride". He had already written "The Wagoner of the Alle

ghanies", a poem of the revolution, for James E. Murdoch, the elocutionist, to recite, and he wrote six other poems suggested by events in the war of the rebellion ; but the historical opportunity afforded by "Sheridan's Ride" was an especially happy one, and his poem met with instant acceptance. The facts are in substantial accord with the poem.

The Shenandoah valley had been the path for several invasions into Maryland and Virginia, and on Aug. 7, 1864, General Grant put General Sheridan into command of the army there stationed, with directions to drive back the Confederate forces and make further invasion impossible. At first, his success did not seem to be very marked, but after advancing and retreating he had finally entrenched his forces on the left bank of Cedar Creek near Strasburg, 20 miles from Winchester, and there he left them in what seemed to be inpregnable security while he went to Washington to consult with General Grant. The Confederate General Early, who was opposed to him, had received reinforcements; and making the most difficult

Sheridan's Ride in History

79

and audacious nocturnal flank movement of the war, by a sudden attack in the early morning of Oct. 19 he put the entire Union army into panic and sent them flying down. the road toward Winchester.

Sheridan had slept at Winchester on his way back to the army, and had heard the early morning firing but supposed it was only a reconnaissance. He started out in the morning for a leisurely ride toward his forces, but four or five miles out of Winchester began to meet the flying troops and learned of the disaster that had befallen them. He halted the fugitives, and as he met others swung his hat at them, shouting "Face the other way boys! We will lick them out of their boots!"

At 10 o'clock he reached the main army, which had made a stand just south of Newtown. There was a pause in the fight which gave him opportunity to re-form his troops and by his personal influence to infuse them with enthusiasm. At one o'clock the rebels attacked once more, but were repulsed. The Union army advanced, took Middletown, and produced in the Confederate forces a

greater panic than that from which they had themselves just recovered. They recaptured all their own artillery with as many more guns from the enemy, and bivouacked that night on their old camp-ground. It was practically the destruction of Early's army, and produced assured security in the North from further invasions by way of the Shenandoah.

XVI

SHERIDAN'S RIDE

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,
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.

But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good broad highway leading down;

And there, through the flush of the morning light,

Sheridan's Ride in Poetry

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

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

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Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South

The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth;

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;
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,

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.

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,