| |
| THE DESPOT’S heel is on thy shore, | |
| Maryland! | |
| His torch is at thy temple door, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Avenge the patriotic gore | 5 |
| That flecked the streets of Baltimore, | |
| And be the battle-queen of yore, | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| Hark to thy wandering son’s appeal, | |
| Maryland! | 10 |
| My mother State! to thee I kneel, | |
| Maryland! | |
| For life and death, for woe and weal, | |
| Thy peerless chivalry reveal, | |
| And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, | 15 |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| Thou wilt not cower in the dust, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Thy beaming sword shall never rust, | |
| Maryland! | 20 |
| Remember Carroll’s sacred trust; | |
| Remember Howard’s warlike thrust; | |
| And all thy slumberers with the just, | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| Come! ’t is the red dawn of the day, | 25 |
| Maryland! | |
| Come! with thy panoplied array, | |
| Maryland! | |
| With Ringgold’s spirit for the fray, | |
| With Watson’s blood, at Monterey, | 30 |
| With fearless Lowe, and dashing May, | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| Come! for thy shield is bright and strong, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, | 35 |
| Maryland! | |
| Come! to thine own heroic throng, | |
| That stalks with Liberty along, | |
| And give a new Key to thy song, 1 | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | 40 |
| |
| Dear Mother! burst the tyrant’s chain, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Virginia should not call in vain, | |
| Maryland! | |
| She meets her sisters on the plain: | 45 |
| Sic semper, ’t is the proud refrain, | |
| That baffles minions back amain, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Arise in majesty again, | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | 50 |
| |
| I see the blush upon thy cheek, | |
| Maryland! | |
| But thou wast ever bravely meek, | |
| Maryland! | |
| But lo! there surges forth a shriek | 55 |
| From hill to hill, from creek to creek,— | |
| Potomac calls to Chesapeake, | |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, | |
| Maryland! | 60 |
| Thou wilt not crook to his control, | |
| Maryland! | |
| Better the fire upon thee roll, | |
| Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, | |
| Than crucifixion of the soul, | 65 |
| Maryland! My Maryland! | |
| |
| I hear the distant thunder hum, | |
| Maryland! | |
| The Old Line’s bugle, fife and drum, | |
| Maryland! | 70 |
| 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! | |
