THE MARSEILLAISE.

BY ROUGET DE L'ISLE.

[1760-1836.]

YE sons of Freedom, wake to glory!
Hark! hark! what myriads bid you rise -
Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary,
Behold their tears and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants, mischiefs breeding,
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,
Affright and desolate the land,

While peace and liberty lie bleeding?
To arms! to arms! ye brave!

The avenging sword unsheath:

March on march on! all hearts resolved On victory or death.

Now, now, the dangerous storm is rolling,
Which treacherous kings confederate raise;

The dogs of war, let loose, are howling,
And lo! our fields and cities blaze;
And shall we basely view the ruin,

While lawless force, with guilty stride,
Spreads desolation far and wide,

With crimes and blood his hands imbruing?

To arms to arms! ye brave,

The avenging sword unsheath:

March on march on all hearts resolved On victory or death.

With luxury and pride surrounded,

The vile, insatiate despots dare

(Their thirst of power and gold unbounded)
To mete and vend the light and air.
Like beasts of burden would they load us,
Like gods would bid their slaves adore;
But man is man, and who is more?
Then shall they longer lash and goad us?
To arms! to arms! ye brave,

The avenging sword unsheath:

March on march on ! all hearts resolved On victory or death.

O Liberty! can man resign thee,
Once having felt thy generous flame?
Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee,
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept bewailing
That Falsehood's dagger tyrants wield;
But Freedom is our sword and shield,
And all their arts are unavailing.

To arms! to arms! ye brave,

The avenging sword unsheath:

March on march on! all hearts resolved

On victory or death.

THE DEPARTURE FOR SYRIA (1809).

BY M. DE LABORDE.

[1773-1842.]

[The music of this song, which was composed by Queen Hortense, mother of Napoleon III., became the national air of the French Empire.]

To Syria young Dunois will go,
That gallant, handsome knight,
And prays the Virgin to bestow
Her blessing on the fight.

"O Thou who reign'st in heaven above,"
He prayed, "Grant this to me:

The fairest maiden let me love,

The bravest warrior be."

He pledges then his knightly word,
His vow writes on the stone,
And following the count, his lord,
To battle he has gone.

To keep his oath he ever strove,

And sang aloud with glee,

"The fairest maid shall have my love,

And honor mine shall be."

Then said the count, "To thee we owe

Our victory, I confess;

Glory on me thou didst bestow,

I give thee happiness:

My daughter, whom I fondly love,
I gladly give to thee;

She, who is fair all maids above,
Should valor's guerdon be."

They kneel at Mary's altar both,—
The maid and gallant knight,

And there with happy hearts their troth
Right solemnly they plight.

It was a sight all souls to move;

And all cried joyously,

"Give honor to the brave, and love

Shall beauty's guerdon be."

GOD SAVE THE KING.

BY HENRY CAREY.

[1696-1743.]

GOD save our gracious king,
Long live our noble king,

God save the king.
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the king.

O Lord our God, arise,
Scatter his enemies,

And make them fall;
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On him our hopes we fix,

God save us all.

The choicest gifts in store,
On him be pleased to pour,
Long may he reign.

May he defend our laws,

And ever give us cause

To sing with heart and voice,

God save the king.

RECESSIONAL.

BY RUDYARD KIPLING.

[December 30, 1865-.]

[In the London Times, at the end of the Queen's Jubilee, 1897.]