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!
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