Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/44

 Two of those brothers heard no plea,
 * With their proud hearts for ever still—

Guy, shrouded by the Tennessee,
 * And Bertram at the Malvern Hill.

But I have heard it everywhere,
 * Vibrating like a mystic knell;

’Tis as perpetual as the air
 * And solemn as a funeral bell.

By scorched lagoon and murky swamp,
 * My wrath was never in the lurch;

I’ve killed the picket in his camp,
 * And many a pilot on his perch.

With steady rifle, sharpened brand,
 * A week ago, upon my steed,

With Forrest and his warrior band,
 * I made the hell-hounds writhe and bleed.

You should have seen our leader go
 * Upon the battle’s burning marge,

Swooping, like falcon, on the foe,
 * Heading the gray line’s iron charge.

All outcasts from our ruined marts,
 * We heard th’ undying serpent hiss,

And, in the desert of our hearts,
 * The fatal spell of Nemesis.