"No doubt, no doubt:—was that a hare?—
First catch, then cook; and cook him brown"
"Trust me to catch," the other cried—
"The lady's letter!—a dance, man, dance
This night is given in Leesburg town"
"He'll be there too!" wheezed out the Guide;
"That Mosby loves a dance and ride!"
"The lady, ah!—the lady's letter—
A lady, then, is in the case"
Muttered the Major. "Ay, her aunt
Writes her to come by Friday eve
(To-night), for people of the place,
At Mosby's last fight jubilant,
A party give, though table-cheer be scant."
The Major hemmed. "Then this night-ride
We owe to her?—One lighted house
In a town else dark.—The moths, begar!
Are not quite yet all dead!" "How? how"
"A mute, meek mournful little mouse!—
Mosby has wiles which subtle are—
But woman's wiles in wiles of war!"
