Alexandria gazette. [volume] (Alexandria, D.C.) 1834-1974, 1900-09-12
MOSBY'S MEN.

Armistead &. Gordon, OF Staunton, W.T.
read by Mr.. r. Walton Moore at
the Seventh Annual Reunion of the
survivors Of the Forty-tbird Battalion,
Virginia CAvalry (Mosby's Mep). held
at Fairfax Court House, September IL;
They tell the tale with magic word
The spirits depths to stir,
Oi him who fought with SldDey's sword,
Or rode with Percy's spur;
For Honor bourgeons from the mould
AND blossoms from The dust,
Though Percy's antique spur he cold
And Sidney's sword be rust.
10 a yet unforgotten day,
When hearts eni hopes we're high.
A little band Iot down this way
whose fame Will never die.
Their cause was right, their blades were
bright,
And honor shone again,
A cloud by day, tire by night,
To beckon MOsby's Men.
The wilderne IS their secret kept,
They bivouacked meath the blue;
The tents they spread, the sleep they
slept,
The fOeman never knew.
No bugle blast nor lick OF drum
Proclaimed their headlong fight;
The startled picket saw them come,
And persisted with the sight.
Chey came az lightnings come; they
went
As swift as the wes'-winds blow;
And blood ran red, and life wss spei t
Where'er they met the foe.
they buckled to the deadly fray,
Where they were one to ten.
Re spurred and drew 10 die or slay,
Wac rode with Mosby's Men.
They carried on their sabres there
The fortunes OF the Truth;
The breath they breathed was Free
dom's air
10 their immortal youth.
Il boots not ii the unequal fight
Was lost, though fierce and long;
'Tis written hat the eternal right
Can never be made wrong.
Down the dim years, long gone, oncr
Appears that phantom band;
hear the changing charge OF yOre,
see the war-rent land.
The vision of the desperate strife
Returns through mists agsin.
Phose were the bravest days OF life,
The days of Mosby's Men.
The bravest days of all that shine
Through immemorial years,
DAYS OF liie's sacrifcial wine,
OF Loves diviDest tears;
When Valor guarded oil the land,
When hearts and hopes were high,
And Love and Death went hand in
hand
With faith that could not die.
But Harry Percy's spur is cold,
And Sidney's sword is rust;
And many o lad who rode OF old
With that gay band is dust;
Wnile those, bereft, who linger yet,
Are wearier now than them
What matter? They cannot forget
That they were Mosby's Men;
That they were Mosby's Men and rode
As soldiers love TO ride,
Where the red stream of battle flowed
With its most swelling tide.
No future stream may run SO red,
No higher tide may flow,
Til God shall wake the heroic dead
From where His four winds blow.
The circliug seasons come and go,
Springs dawn and sutumns set,
And winter with it's drifted snow
Repsys the summers deb;
And song Of bird and tint OF bloom
Are gay aud bright, as when
Those gallant lads rode to their doom
Long since with Mosby's Men.
But winter wears a sadder guise,
Aud ghsstlier for its snow,
| To him who looks with time-Worn eye
On scenes of long ego;
And neither autumn's glow, nor spripf
Nor summers emerald sod
To hearts grown d again may bring
The dead who sleep with God.
It is His will for swords to rust
That battle for the riRh';
| For banners to be tTsiled in dust
That lead the holiest fight;
FIR Wrong to wear the victors name
| Where one may strive with teD;-
But fate can never take from fame
The deeds of Mosby's Men.