THE MARSEILLAISE.

[Footnote: Written and composed by Roger de Lisle. This translation
has been attributed to Lord Auckland.]


Ye sons of France, awake 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, mischief breeding,
With hireling hosts, a ruffian band,
Affright and desolate the land,
While Peace and Liberty lie bleeding?
To arms, to arms, ye brave,
Th'avenging sword unsheath;
March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd
On victory or death.

Now, now, the dang'rous storm is rolling
Which treach'rous 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 embruing?