is side
Belisent, my cousin--O, so proud
Of her young love with old wounds pale--
A Virginian girl! God bless her pride--
Of a crippled Mosby-man the bride!"

"Four wall shall mend that saucy mood,
And moping prisons tame him down"
Said Captain Cloud. "God help that day"
Cried Captain Morn, "and he so young.
But hark, he sings--a madcap one"
"_O we multiply merrily in the May,
The birds and Mosby's men, they say!_"

While echoes ran, a wagon old,
Under stout guard of Corporal Chew
Came up; a lame horse, dingy white,
With clouted harness; ropes in hand,
Cringed the humped driver, black in hue;
By him (for Mosby's band a sight)
A sister-rebel sat, her veil held tight.

"I picked them up," the Corporal said,
"Crunching their way over stick and root,
Through yonder wood. The man here--Cuff--
Says they are going to Leesburg town"
The Colonel's eye took in the group;
The veiled one's hand he spied--enough!
Not Mosby's. Spite the gown's poor stuff,

Off went his hat: "Lady, fear not;
We soldiers do what we deplore--
I must detain you till we march"
The stranger nodded. Nettled now,
He grew politer than before:--
"'Tis Mosby's fault, this halt and search"
The lady stiffened in her starch.

"My duty, madam, bids me now
Ask what may seem a little rude.
Pardon--that veil--withdraw it, please
(Corporal! make every man fall back);
Pray, now I do but what I should;
Bethink you, 'tis in masks like these
That Mosby haunts the villages."

Slowly the stranger drew her veil,
And looked the Soldier in the eye--
A glance of mingled foul and fair;
Sad patience in a proud disdain,
And more than quietude. A sigh
She heaved, and if all unaware,
And far seemed Mosby from her care.

She came from Yewton Place, her home,
So ravaged by the war's wild play--
Campings, and foragings, and fires--
That now she sought an aunt's abode.
Her Kinsmen? In Lee's army, they.
The black? A servant, late her sire's.
And Mosby? Vainly he inquires.

He gazed, and sad she met his eye;
"In the wood yonder were you lost"
No; at the forks they left the road
Because of hoof-prints (thick they were--
Thick as the words in notes thrice crossed),
And fearful, made that episode.
In fear of Mosby? None she showed.

Her poor attire again he scanned:
"Lady, once more; I grieve to jar
On all sweet usage, but must plead
To have what peep