_Broke to every known mischance, lifted over
all
By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of
the Gaul,
Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength that draws from her
tireless soil,
Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of
men's mind,
First to follow truth and last to leave old
truths behind--
France beloved of every soul that loves its
fellow-kind._

Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side
by side we lay
Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin
the fray.
Ere men knew our tongues apart, our one
taste was known--
Each must mould the other's fate as he
wrought his own.
To this end we stirred mankind till all
earth was ours,
Till our world-end strifes began wayside
thrones and powers,
Puppets that we made or broke to bar
the other's path--
Necessary, outpost folk, hirelings of our