(“A night-ride, eh?”) “Tighten your girths!
But, buglers! not a note from you.
Fling more rails on the fires—a blaze”
(“Sergeant, a feint—I told you so—
Toward Aldie again. Bivouac, adieu!”)
After the cheery flames they gaze,
Then back for Mosby through the maze.
The moon looked through the trees, and tipped
The scabbards with her elfin beam;
The Leader backward cast his glance,