The General, who a kindly heart possessed, No sooner heard, than granted my request; 'Twas but a moment's work to mount my steed, And spur him to his maximum of speed; The faithful creature seemed to understand And needed little urging from my hand, As down the turnpike, toward my childhood's home, He fairly flew, his bridle white with foam; His hoofbeats, as we clattered o'er the ground, Returned a dull, premonitory sound, Which seemed to echo and accentuate The burden of my heart, 'Too late! Too late!' The fences, near the turnpike, as we passed, Were by my orders disappearing fast; The rails were piled in heaps and soon became A prey to war's red ally,--vandal flame. Houses, familiar to my childish sight, Glowed strangely with an unaccustomed light, While from adjacent barns and hay-ricks broke Incipient tongues of flame and clouds of smoke. The orders, ruthless and inflexible, Were by the soldiers executed well. Still down the turnpike dashed my sweating horse, I plied the cruel spurs with double force, When in the distance there appeared to view The old stone manor-house my childhood knew. My spirit sank,--though I was not surprised, My worst misgivings had been realized, For from the roof and upper windows came Dense clouds of smoke and lurid sheets of flame. It had its portion in the common fate, 'Too late!' the mocking hoof-beats rang, 'Too late!' We passed a company, on their return From executing those instructions stern; It was the company of my brigade Wherein I first was a lieutenant made; Its officers and men I knew by name; They cheered me when their captain I became; They cheered me when I left a major's tent, To be the colonel of their regiment. They did my bidding. How could I condemn! They honored me and I respected them; And yet, these favorites of my command Had not one hour before applied the brand Which was transforming with its wand of fire My father's house into--his funeral pyre. That they had met resistance, I could see, For wounded men, in number two or three, Were by their comrades carted in advance, While one more limped behind the ambulance. Upon a stretcher carried in their van, The soldiers bore the body of a man; He was their captain, and my bosom friend; He plied that torch,--and met a bloody end. I plunged the spurs, but not without remorse, Into his steaming flanks and urged my horse, Which I disliked to tax beyond his strength; Such speed had he maintained, that now, at length, He was compelled to pant and hesitate; With labored effort we dashed through the gate, Or where the gate had been an hour before, For gate and fence alike, were seen no more, Save in the scattered bonfires, while at most All that remained was here and there a post.