He smoked and smoked, eying the while
A huge tree hydra-like in growth—
Moon-tinged—with crook'd boughs rent or lopped—
Itself a haggard forest. "Come"
The Colonel cried, "to talk you're loath;
D've hear? I say he must be stopped,
This Mosby—caged, and hair close cropped."
"Of course; but what's that dangling there"
"Where?" "From the tree—that gallows-bough;
A bit of frayed bark, is it not"
"Ay—or a rope; did we hang last?—
Don't like my neckerchief any how"
He loosened it: "O ay, we'll stop
This Mosby—but that vile jerk and drop!"[23]
By peep of light they feed and ride,
Gaining a grove's green edge at morn,
And mark the Aldie hills upread
And five gigantic horsemen carved
Clear-cut against the sky withdrawn;
Are more behind? an open snare?