Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/36

  And so today the marble shaft may soar In memory of those who are no more; The proudest boast of centuries shall be, That they who fell with rise with !

Brothers! the thunder-cloud is black,
 * And the wail of the South wings forth;

Will ye cringe to the hot tornado’s rack,
 * And the Vampires of the North?

Strike! ye can win a martyr’s goal;
 * Strike! with a ruthless hand—

Strike! with the vengeance of the soul
 * For your bright, beleaguered land!
 * To arms! to arms! for the South needs help,
 * And a craven is he who flees—
 * For ye have the sword of the Lion’s Whelp,
 * And the God of the Maccabees!