Under his spurning feet, the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flow'd,
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind;
And the steed like a bark fed with furnace ire;
Swept on, with wild eye full of fire.
But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire;
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray,
With Sheridan only five miles away.
The first that the general saw were the groups
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops;
What was done? What to do? A glance told him both,
Then striking his spurs with a terrible oath,
He dash'd down the line, 'mid a storm of huzzas,
And the wave of retreat, checked his course there,
The sight of the master compell'd it to pause.
With foam and with dust the black charger was gray;
By the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play
He seem'd to the whole great army to say,
I have brought you Sheridan all the way
From Winchester down to save the day.
Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan!
Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man!
And when their statues are placed on high,
Under the dome of the Union sky,
The American Soldiers' Temple of Fame,
There with the glorious general's name,
Be it said, in letters both bold and bright;
Here is the steed that saved the day
By carrying Sheridan into the fight
From Winchester--twenty miles away.
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