For faith betrayed, and pledges broken, Strong as lions, swift as eagles, Back to their kennels hunt these beagles! Cut the unequal bonds asunder! Let them hence each other plunder! Swear upon your country's altar Till the spoilers are defeated, Till the Lord's work is completed! Halt not till our Federation Secures among earth's powers its station! If the loved ones weep in sadness, Exultant pride soon vanquish sorrow; For Dixie's land we take our stand, To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie! Albert Pike [1809-1891] MY MARYLAND THE despot's heel is on thy shore, Maryland! His torch is at thy temple door, 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, For life or death, for woe or weal, Thy peerless chivalry reveal, And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, Maryland, my Maryland! 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! Come with thy panoplied array, 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, Maryland! Virginia should not call in vain, Maryland! She meets her sisters on the plain,— "Sic semper!" 'tis the proud refrain 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 I see the blush upon thy cheek, For thou wast ever bravely meek, Maryland! But lo! there surges forth a shriek, Potomac calls to Chesapeake, Maryland, my Maryland! Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, 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, 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] THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY THE knightliest of the knightly race That, since the days of old, Have kept the lamp of chivalry Yet rode with Spotswood round the land, Who climbed the blue Virginian hills Against embattled foes, And planted there, in valleys fair, The lily and the rose; Whose fragrance lives in many lands, Whose beauty stars the earth, And lights the hearths of happy homes We thought they slept!—the sons who kept And slumbered while the darkness crept But aye the "Golden Horseshoe" knights 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, While the Tritons of the deep With their conchs the kindred league shall proclaim O'er the main our naval line, 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] |