Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V. 1876–79.
The Maiden City
By Charlotte Elizabeth (1790–1846)W
Rolls northward to the main,
Here, Queen of Erin’s daughters,
Fair Derry fixed her reign:
A holy temple crowned her,
And commerce graced her street,
A rampart wall was round her,
The river at her feet;
And here she sate alone, boys,
And, looking from the hill,
Vowed the maiden on her throne, boys,
Would be a maiden still.
In famous eighty-eight,
A plumed and belted lover
Came to the Ferry Gate:
She summoned to defend her
Our sires, a beardless race,
They shouted “No surrender!”
And slammed it in his face.
Then in a quiet tone, boys,
They told him ’t was their will
That the maiden on her throne, boys,
Should be a maiden still.
A kingly wooer came
(The royal banner o’er him
Blushed crimson deep for shame);
He showed the Pope’s commission,
Nor dreamed to be refused:
She pitied his condition,
But begged to stand excused.
In short, the fact is known, boys,
She chased him from the hill,
For the maiden on the throne, boys,
Would be a maiden still.
’T was then the tempest broke,
Their peaceful dwellings rending,
Mid blood and flame and smoke,
That hallowed graveyard yonder
Swells with the slaughtered dead,—
O brothers! pause and ponder,
It was for us they bled;
And while their gift we own, boys,—
The fane that tops our hill,
O, the maiden on her throne, boys,
Shall be a maiden still.
Nor tyrant arm affright,
We ’ll look to One above us
Who ne’er forsook the right;
Who will may crouch and tender
The birthright of the free,
But, brothers, “no surrender,”
No compromise for me!
We want no barrier stone, boys,
No gates to guard the hill,
Yet the maiden on her throne, boys,
Shall be a maiden still.