Page:Maryland, My Maryland and There's Life in the Old Land Yet (1862).djvu/3



If the grave of unhappy Maryland were really dug and its mound heaped by the minions of despotism, there would not be wanting lovely forms and tender hearts to robe its sod with flowers. But something would be still lacking to give the crowning touch of consecrated melancholy to the scene—something to make death utterly beautiful—something to make despair transcendently eloquent and that would be such garlands of song as might be wreathed by the young Southern poet who composed the stirring melody of “There’s Life in the Old Land Yet.” This fine poem appeared originally in the Delta, and has since been extensively republished by the Southern press and credited to the Baltimore Exchange. Weare by no means sure that it was published in that journal, and doubt whether it has found publication anywhere in the trampled State whose wrongs it paints, whose vengeance it invokes, whose hopes it sets to lofty rhyme.—It soon, however, went home to the hearts of the expatriated Marylanders, who in Virginia are fighting against