Yes; that my basket—that my shawl. O Fate!
How burdened are we women! Sir, you are
Most kind; and may I trouble you thus far?
Find me the fleetest horses; I must reach
Waunona Hill this night. I do beseech
All haste; a thousand dollars will I give
For this one ride. [Exeunt.
A Soldier.
Say, boys, I’d like to live
Where I could see that woman! I could fight
A regiment of rebels in her sight—
Couldn’t you?
The Others.
Yes—yes! [Exeunt omnes.
THE DRIVE.
The Lady (thinking).
O fair Kentucky! border-land of war,
Thou rovest like a gypsy at thy will
Between the angry South and stubborn North.
Across thy boundaries many times from far
Sweep Morgan’s men, the troopers bold who fill
Ohio with alarm; then, marching forth
In well-drilled ranks with flag, and fife, and drum,
From camp and town the steady blue-coats come,
March east, march west, march north, march south, and find
No enemy except the lawless wind.
No sooner gone—Lo! presto through the glen
Is heard the midnight ride of Morgan’s men:
They ford the rivers by the light of stars,
The ringing hoofs sound through the mountain-pass;
They draw not rein until their glad huzzas
Are echoing through the land of the Blue Grass.
—O lovely land,
O swell of grassy billows far and near,
O wild, free elms, whose swaying arms expand
As if to clasp me, hold my love as dear
As thine own son! I hasten to his side—
Ye roads, lie smooth; ye streams, make safe the ford;
O chivalrous Kentucky, help the bride
Though thou hast wounded with thy rebel sword
The foeman bridegroom!
. . . . . . . . . .
.... Can it be that girl
Who rides in front? I thought her left behind
In that small town. Ciel! would I could hurl
The slim thing down this bank! Would I could bind
Those prim, long-fingered, proper hands of hers
Behind her drooping, narrow-shouldered back,
And send her home! A heart like that transfers
Its measured, pale affections readily,
If the small rules it calleth piety
Step in between them. Otherwise, the crack
Of doom would not avail to break the cord
Which is not love so much as given word
And fealty, that conscientiousness
Which weigheth all things be they more or less,
From fold of ribbon to a marriage-vow,
With self-same scales of duty. Shall I now
Ride on and pass her—for her horse will fail
Before the hour is out? Of what avail
Her journey?
(Speaks.) Driver, press forward.—Nay, stop—
(Aside.) O what a child am I to waver thus!
I know not how to be ungenerous,
Though I may try—God knows I truly tried.
What’s this upon my hand? Did a tear drop?
(Speaks.) By your side
Behold me, maiden; will you ride with me?
My horses fleet and strong.
The Maiden.