Oh, Maryland, enslaved, opprest,
Insulted in thy woes—
While all thy noblest and thy best,
A dungeon’s walls enclose;
Still hope unquenched thy strength renews,
While bowed beneath thy chain;
With silent fall the nightly dews,
The drooping flower sustain.
Though Freedom yet may meet delay,
We yield not in despair;
Amidst the battle’s sternest fray,
Thine exiled sons are there;
Their hands are bloody in the fight,
Thy banner floats on high:
Not starless is thy waning night,
And glorious dawn is nigh.
All helpless now, thou may’st not strive,
But still must suffer wrong;
A happier hour shall soon arrive,
And then be firm and strong.
The stranger lords it o’er thee now,
But brief his rule shall be;
But one short struggle more, and thou,
My Maryland, art free!