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,
With Sheridan twenty miles away!
But there is a road from Winchester town,
A good broad highway leading down;
And there, through the flash of the morning light,
A steed, as black as the steeds of night,