'Tis the last of the Bourbons Shouts freedom with joy, As her legions in triumph Be-fore her de-ploy, And the
sé de ma lan ce, Le cou-pa-ble roi, Et j'ai ren-du la France, Mai-tres-se de soi.
throne of the des-pot Is dashed at her feet, Which her men in coarse blouses, With Mar-seillaise greet.
Vi-ve, vi-ve, vi-ve la Li-ber-té! Vi-ve, vi-ve, vi-ve la Li-ber-té!
Hur-rah! hur-rah! hur-rah! for Li-ber-ty! Hur-rah! hur-rah! hur-rah! for Li-ber-ty!
A-bas les ty-rans! A-bas les ty-rans! Vi-ve, vi-ve, vi-ve la Li-ber-té!
Ty-rants shall no more our coun-try con-trol! Hur-rah! hur-rah! hur-rah! for Li-ber-ty!]
Oh thou spirit of lightning That movest the French From the hands of the tyrant, The sceptre to wrench. Thou no more wilt be cheated But keep under arms Till the sway thou upholdest Is free from alarms! Hurrah! hurrah! &c.
J'entends gronder la foudre Des braves Français Ils ont réduit en poudre Le siége des forfaits. Leurs éclairs épouvantent Les rois étrangers Dont les glaives tourmentent Des coeurs opprimés. Vive, vive, &c.
Tis too late for an Infant To govern a land Which a tyrant long practiced Has failed to command. For the men of fair Gallia At home will be free, And extend independence To lands o'er the sea! Hurrah! hurrah! &c.
Désormais soyez sages Restez tous armés Protégeant vos suffrages Et vos droits sacrés. Comblez l'espoir unique De France! en avant! Vive la République! A bas les tyrans! Vive, vive, &c.
Bright Isle of the Ocean, and gem of the sea, Thou art stately and fair as an island can be, With thy clifts tow'ring upward, thy valleys outspread, And thy fir-crested hills, where the mountain deer tread, So crowned with rich verdure, so kissed by each ray Of the day-god that mounts on and upward his way, While thy wild rushing torrent, thy streams in their flow, Reflect the high archway of heaven below, Whose clear azure curtains, so cloudless and bright, Are here ever tinged with the red gold at night; Then with one burst of glory the sun sinks to rest, And the stars they shine out on the land that is blest.
Thy foliage is fadeless, no chilling winds blow, No frost has embraced thee, no mantle of snow; Then hail to each sunbeam whose swift airy flight Speeds on for thy valleys each hill-top and height! To clothe them in glory then die 'mid the roar Of the sea-waves which echo far up from the shore! They will rest for a day, as if bound by a spell, They will noiselessly fall where the beautiful dwell, They will beam on thy summits so lofty and lone, Where nature hath sway and her emerald throne, Then each pearly dew-drop descending at even, At morn they will bear to the portals of Heaven.