Shoulder to shoulder, son and sire! MARYLAND.* Rockingham Register. BY JAMES R. RANDALL. THE despot's heel is on thy shore, Maryland! His torch is at thy temple door, Avenge the patriotic gore That flecked the streets of Baltimore, Maryland! My Maryland! Hark to wand'ring son's appeal, Maryland! 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, Maryland My Maryland! Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Maryland! *No song was such a favorite as this among Rebels at the South and "Copperheads " at the North. Officers have told me that they have heard it in the small hours of the night sung in undertones but with fierce enthusiasm in Baltimore, by people professing "Union sentiments," and who supposed that their secret and pretended social gatherings were unobserved. MARYLAND. Thy beaming sword shall never rust, Remember Carroll's sacred trust; Come! 't is the red dawn of the day, Come with thy panoplied array, With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, With fearless Lowe, and dashing May, Come for thy shield is bright and strong, Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, Come to thine own heroic throng, That stalks with Liberty along, And give a new Key to thy song,* Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain, Maryland! Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain : That baffles minions back amain, Maryland! Arise in majesty again, Maryland! My Maryland! 293 * " The Star Spangled Banner was written during the war of 1812 by Francis Key of Maryland. I see the blush upon thy cheek, Maryland! But thou wast ever bravely meek, But lo! there surges forth a shriek Maryland! My Maryland! Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, Thou will not crook to his control, Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, Maryland! My Maryland! I hear the distant thunder hum, 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 ! POINTE COUPEE, April 26, 1861. WITH a beard that was filthy and red, Abe Lincoln sat in the gay White House, THE DESPOT'S SONG. 295 Swear! swear! swear! Till his tongue was blistered o'er; Lie! lie! lie! I've lied like the very deuce! As long as lies were of use; Drink! drink! drink! Till I get rid of all fear! Sherry and champagne and pop; Think! think! think! Till my head is very sore! Think! think! think! Till I could n't think any more! For now that everything fails, I would of my office be "shut!" You'd submit at discretion, REBELS. L'General Beauregard, now in command of the Rebel forces in Charleston, has much fame as a tactician." - Harpers' Weekly.] YES, call them Rebels! 't is the name At Lexington and Baltimore Was poured the holy chrism, For freedom marks her sons with blood, Rebels, in proud and bold protest, Against a power unreal, A unity which every quest Proves false as 't is ideal. A brotherhood, whose ties are chains, Rebels against the malice vast, Malice that naught disarms, Which has been borne, - in silence borne, — |