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!

114

There's Life in the Old Land yet.

There's Life in the Old Land yet.

THOUGH the soil of old Maryland echoes the tread

Of an insolent soldiery now;

And a lurid glare reddens the sky overhead

From the camp-fire's light below;

Though from mountain to shore the hoarse cannon

roar;

And from border to border are sentinels set, Whose bayonets shine in unbroken line

"There is life in the Old Land yet!"

Though by treacherous hearts and unloyal hands.
Betrayed and disabled to-day,

And deserted at need by her sons, she stands
Confronting an armed array;

Though tyrannous might hath o'erborne the right,
Hath despoiled and discrowned her- and men
forget

As they bow the knee, that they once were free"There is life in the Old Land yet!"

But though patient and mute, she is still undismayed,

Though passive, she is not subdued;

Though she shrinks from unsheathing her trusty

blade

In a fratricidal feud,

Not long will she kneel when oppression's heel

On her neck is by monarch, or president set; And the blood even now is mantling her browFor "there's life in the Old Land yet!"

She remembers with pride what her children have done

In the perilous days of yore,

And will never relinquish the rights which they won, Nor disgrace the flag they bore.

Then let those beware, who boastfully swear

They will conquer her now, for their vaunt will be met;

And the Maryland men shall be heard of again— For "there's life in the Old Land yet!"

Lines after Defeat.

WE have suffered defeat, as the bravest may suffer ; Shall we leave unavenged our dead comrades' gore? Oh! rather, my brothers, rise up in your manhood, And strive as no nation e'er battled before.

Come! rush from the mountains, the lowlands, the valleys,

Rush on like the avalanche freed from its spell; And lash the base cohorts, that throng to enslave us,

With stripes that shall give them a foretaste of hell.

Our women, to hearthstone and altar appealing, Say "Shield us from ruin, or die where you stand!"

Our children, O God! can we fondle and bless them, While anarchy threatens, while despots command?

No! rise in the strength and the glow of our valor, And strike a great blow that shall ring through the world

A blow that shall shatter our fetters forever,

And leave our proud banner forever unfurled !

England's Neutrality.

A PARLIAMENTARY DEBATE, WITH NOTES: BY A CONFEDERATE REPORTER.

ALL ye who with credulity the whispers hear of fancy,

Or yet pursue with eagerness Hope's wild extrava

gancy

Who dream that England soon will drop her long miscalled Neutrality,

And give us with a hearty shake, the hand of Nationality,

Read, as we give, with little fault of statement or omission,

The next debate in Parliament on Southern Recognition;

They're all so much alike, indeed, that one can write it off, I see,

As truly as the Times report, without the gift of prophecy.