To the slumb'ring, quiet city,
To Lancaster on the hillside.
But the scattered Guards, returning
Through the river-bridge at midnight,
Scared and startled Dunlap's posse,
At the moment of their vict'ry,
Scared and startled Stein's besiegers,
Till they fled across the fences,
Till they dared not bear their captive
O'er the dangerous moonlit highway.
On and on the captors wandered,
Wandered over brush and briers,
Stumbling on through creeks and by-ways,
Climbing hills and wading gullies,
Sometimes running, sometimes halting,
Till the men were all exhausted,
All but Dunlap and his captive.
Paddy fell out by the wayside,
Buford lagged behind to nurse him;
Some lay down beside their muskets,
Giving up the vain exertion;
Some were nerved to struggle onward,
Eager to proclaim the tidings;
But the pris'ner tried to tire them,
In the deviating pathways,
In the windings of the by-ways,
He endeavored to elude them,
Till his giant-sized proportions
Yielded to the boyish runners,
Till his strategy and ruses
Were outwitted by the youngsters.
And the fair October morning
Was just peeping o'er the hill-tops
Of victorious Lancaster,
When the tramp of full two hundred
Broke upon the early watches;
When two hundred men, exultant,
Started forth in marching columns,
With the drum and fife resounding,
Started forth to meet the victors.
(For, a captured Guard, escaping
From the annual encampment,
From the heedless Regimentals,
Near the bridge in Lincoln county,
Had proceeded to the city,
While the moonlight yet was waning,
Had aroused the sleeping townsmen
With the herald of the vict'ry.)
And the troops went out to meet them,
Went to meet the Guards returning,
_Eight_ alone of twenty-seven.
And the doorways of the city,
All the windows of the city,
Sounded forth huzzas and shoutings,
While the handkerchiefs were waving,
Flags-of-truce, their white unfurling.
Nearer came the weary Guardsmen,
Hatless, spurless, weary Guardsmen,
With white pants, alas! all muddy;
Torn and soiled the true-blue jackets,
Scratched and worn the hands and faces.
But the great crest-fallen captive,
Was in plight both sad and comic!
With his red bandana nightcap
Wound about his head so lordly,
With his armless sleeping-jacket
Hanging on his martial figure,
He was borne aloft in triumph,
To the court-hous