I gave him a cup, and he smiled--'twas only a boy, you see;
Faint and worn; with dim blue eyes, and he'd sailed on the Tennessee.
Only sixteen he was, sir--a fond mother's only son--Off and away with Morgan before his life had begun!
The damp drops stood on his temples; drawn was the boyish mouth;
And I thought me of the mother waiting down in the South!
O, pluck was he to the backbone; and clear grit through and through;
Boasted and bragged like a trooper; but the big words wouldn't do;
The boy was dying sir, dying, as plain as plain could be, Worn out by his ride with Morgan up from the Tennessee.
But, when I told the laddie that I too was from the South, Water came into his dim eyes, and quivers around his mouth;
"Do you know the Blue-Grass country?" he wistfully began to say;
Then swayed like a willow sapling, and fainted dead away.
I had him into the log-house, and worked and brought him to;
I fed him, and I coaxed him, as I thought his mother'd do;
And, when the lad got better, and the noise in his head was gone, Morgan's men were miles away, galloping, galloping on.
"O, I must go," he muttered; "I must be up and away!
Morgan, Morgan is waiting for me! O, what will Morgan say?"
But I heard the sound of tramping, and kept him back from the door--The ringing sound of horses' hoofs that I had heard before.
And on, on came the soldiers--the Michigan cavalry--And fast they rode, and back they looked, galloping rapidly;
They had followed hard on Morgan's track; they had followed day and night;
But of Morgan and Morgan's raiders they had never caught a sight.
And rich Ohio sat startled through all these summer days;
For strange, wild men were galloping over her broad highways;
Now here, now there, now seen, now gone, now north, now east, now west, Through river-valleys and corn-land farms, sweeping away her best.
A bold ride and a long ride! But they were taken at last;
They had almost reached the river by galloping hard and fast;
But the boys in blue were upon them ere ever they gained the ford, And Morgan, Morgan the raider, laid down his terrible sword.
Well, I kept the boy till evening--kept him against his will--But he was too weak to follow, and sat there pale and still;
When it was cool and dusky--you'll wonder to hear me tell--But I stole down to the gully, and brought up Kentucky Belle.
I kissed the star on her forehead--my pretty, gentle lass--But I knew that she'd be happy, back in the old Blue-Grass:
A suit of clothes of Conrad's, with all the money I had, And Kentucky, pretty Kentucky, I gave to the worn-out lad.
I guided him to the southward, as well as I knew how:
The boy rode off with many thanks, and many a backward bow;
And then the glow it faded, and my heart began to swell;
And down the glen away she went, my lost Kentucky Belle!
When Conrad came in the evening, the moon was shining high, Baby and I were both crying--I couldn't tell him why--But a battered suit of rebel gray was hanging on the wall, And a thin old horse with drooping head stood in Kentucky's stall.
Well, he was kind, and never once said a hard word to me, He knew I couldn't help it--'twas all for the Tennessee;
But, after the war was over, just think what came to pass--A letter, sir, and the two were safe back in the old Blue-Grass.
The lad got across the border, riding Kentucky Belle;
And Kentuck she was thriving, and fat, and hearty, and well;
He cared for her, and kept her, nor touched her with whip or spur;
Ah! we've had many horses, but never a horse like her!
