My Maryland Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore, And be the battle-queen of yore, Maryland, my Maryland! Hark to an exiled son's appeal, Maryland! My Mother State, to thee I kneel, Maryland! For life or death, for woe or weal, Thy peerless chivalry reveal, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Maryland! Thy beaming sword shall never rust, Remember Carroll's sacred trust, Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day, Maryland! With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, With Watson's blood at Monterey, With fearless Lowe and dashing May, Dear Mother, burst the tyrant's chain, Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain,"Sic semper!" 'tis the proud refrain 2149 That baffles minions back amain, Maryland! Arise in majesty again, Maryland, my Maryland! Come! for thy shield is bright and strong, Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, Maryland! Come to thine own heroic throng And chant thy dauntless slogan-song, I see the blush upon thy cheek, For thou wast ever bravely meek, Maryland! But lo! there surges forth a shriek, From hill to hill, from creek to creek, Potomac calls to Chesapeake, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, Maryland! Thou wilt not crook to his control, Maryland! Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland, my Maryland! I hear the distant thunder hum, Maryland! The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum, Maryland! She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb; Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum! She breathes! She burns! She'll come! She'll come! Maryland, my Maryland! James Ryder Randall (1839-1908] America to Great Britain 2151 THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY THE knightliest of the knightly race That, since the days of old, Have kept the lamp of chivalry The kindliest of the kindly band That, rarely hating ease, Yet rode with Spotswood round the land, Who climbed the blue Virginian hills Against embattled foes, And planted there, in valleys fair, Whose fragrance lives in many lands, Whose beauty stars the earth, And lights the hearths of happy homes With loveliness and worth. We thought they slept!-the sons who kept And slumbered while the darkness crept Around their vigil-fires; But aye the "Golden Horseshoe" knights Their old Dominion keep, Whose foes have found enchanted ground, But not a knight asleep! Francis Orray Ticknor [1822-1874] AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN ALL hail! thou noble land, Our Fathers' native soil! Gigantic grown by toil, O'er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore! For thou, with magic might, The world o'er! The Genius of our clime, From his pine-embattled steep, While the Tritons of the deep With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim Though ages long have passed Since our Fathers left their home, O'er untravelled seas to roam, Yet lives the blood of England in our veins! That blood of honest fame While the language free and bold How the vault of heaven rung Ten thousand echoes greet, From rock to rock repeat Round our coast;— While the manners, while the arts, That mould a nation's soul, Our joint communion breaking with the Sun: Yet, still, from either beach The voice of blood shall reach, More audible than speech, "We are One!" Washington Allston [1779-1843] America TO ENGLAND I LEAR and Cordelia! 'twas an ancient tale Before thy Shakespeare gave it deathless fame; Spread her young banner, till its sway became 2153 Storms on thy straw-crowned head, and thou dost stand II Stand, thou great bulwark of man's liberty! Thou rock of shelter, rising from the wave, Sole refuge to the overwearied brave Who planned, arose, and battled to be free, Fell, undeterred, then sadly turned to thee,Saved the free spirit from their country's grave, To rise again, and animate the slave, When God shall ripen all things. Britons, ye Who guard the sacred outpost, not in vain Hold your proud peril! Freemen undefiled, Keep watch and ward! Let battlements be piled Around your cliffs; fleets marshalled, till the main Sink under them; and if your courage wane, Through force or fraud, look westward to your child! George Henry Boker [1823-1890] AMERICA NOR force nor fraud shall sunder us! Oh ye |