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Show J ; "MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND." is The historian of the Virginia division I . or the Daughters of the Confederacy I j r-ccntly requested, through the coi- vmns of the Baltimore Sun. a correct verrion of "My Maryland," and a . liinnber of the Baltimore chapter, a ' devoted daughter of Maryland, takes jleasure in supplying it: ! Maryland! (By James R. Randall.) The despot's heel is on thy shore, I Maryland! J His torch is at thy temple door, I Maryland! I Avenge the patriotic gore 1 That flecked the streets of Baltimore, I , And be the battle-queen of yore, 1 Maryland! My Maryland! Hark to thy wandering son's appeal, Maryland! I My mother (state, to thee I kneel, I Maryland! i For life and death, for woe and weal, Thy peerless chivalry reveal. I And gird thy beauteous limbs with i5 leel, Maryland! My Maryland! Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Maryland! I Thy beaming sword shall never rust, I Maryland! I Remember Carroll's sArred trust; I Remember Howard's warlike thrust. I And all thy slumbfrers with the just, I Maryland! My Maryland! I Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day, Maryland! -. ,. Come! with thy panoplied arrav. Maryland! 1 With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, . J With Watson's blood at Monterey. ' With fearless Lowe and dashing May, 1; Maryland! My Maryland! j Dear mother, burst the tyrant's chain, I Maryland! I Virginia should pot call in vain, I Maryland! 1 Fhe meets her sisters on the plain, "Sic semper," 'tis the proud refrain I That baffles minions back amain, I Maryland! My Maryland! J Come! for thy shield is bright and I strong, Maryland: Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong. Maryland! Come to thine own heroic throng That stalks with Liberty along. And give a new "Key" to my song, Maryland! My Maryland! - ! I J see the blush upon thy cheek, I Maryland! For thy wm f-ver bravely meek, Maryland! But. lo! there surges forth a shriek From hill to hill, from creek to creek; i Potomac rails to Chesapeake, I Maryland! My Maryland! f Thou wilt not yield the vandal toll. I Maryland: j Thou wit not crook to his control, I Maryland! I Belter the fire upon thee roll, I Better the shot, the blade, the bowl, J Than crucifixion of the oul. Maryland! My Maryland! !I hear the distant thunder hum, Maryland! i The "Old Line" bugle, fire and drum, I Maryland! iShe is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb: Huzza! he spurns the Northern scum; he breathes, she burns, she'll tome, she'll come! ; J Maryland! My Maryland! 1 In connection with this poem it may j be interesting to read the following glowing tribute to poem and poet pub is lihed recently in Bethany by Watson: j "Tn those far-gone days there was a i young Hchnol teacher in Louisiana who J bore in his emotional nature every hi'po. ivar. sympathy, yearning and , aspiration of the old South. Born and 1 i reared in Maryland, loving his native I state with ardent loyalty, his eyes during dur-ing his temporary exile were contin-n; contin-n; 'ly and anxiously turned homeward. His immediate environment was that f intense seeefisionism. 'Southern t ights' was everybody's watchword, I ;ind every throb of his heart echoed it. j But he was a Marylander. Louisiana . had seceded. What would Maryland J ; do? Her sisters of the South Were in I deadly peril. Her help was needed. f What would she do? By day and by night the black-eyed, Creole-looking j school teacher pondered, hoping, fear- J ; ing, sick with suspense. Why did his home people hesitate? Would Mary-' land never act? Something in the I newspapers caught his eye one day, 1 some vague encouragement, and in a rush of profoundly earnest feeling he, ! James R. Randall, a6 true a poet as I ever sang, dashed off the famous lines, j ; 'Maryland, My Maryland!' They elec trified the South then; they move the. soul with their burning passion today. If ever the soul of a man passed into poetry It went into this. And if ever deep called unto deep it was when the fervor of this poet made its appeal to the South. Alas! Maryland did not come. It was even then too late. The bayonet pinned her down. The overwhelming over-whelming moral weight of the 'despot's heel' was already on her shore. But the poem made a profound impression, not only In Maryland, but throughout the Southern states. In the w hole range of literature is there, in fact, a more soul-stjrring war Bong? Is there a poem more perfectly lyric in spirit, conception . and expression. It would puzzle you to name it. Go read the entire poem. Consider it In all the circumstances cir-cumstances surrounding its birth. Consider Con-sider the variety of the chords it I touches and the power with which they are etruck. Realize the tempestuous torrent of feeling gripped within the classic mold of the polished stanzas. It is the sacred fire imprisoned within a -Grecian vase! "He has lived neglected, as Edgar Poe was neglected. When he dies we will give him a monument, as we have done for Toe. And then -hi exquisite, verges will he collected and wc will weep regretful tears, as we have done rn-er Poe, when we realize what a radiant ra-diant spirit had dwelt unknown in our midst." 1 Mr. Randall is a devoted Catholic. His weekly letter to the Catholic Columbian Co-lumbian is one of the most interesting features of Catholic journalism. |