Marseillaise Hymn* 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!
Behold their tears, and hear their cries!
Shall hateful tyrants mischief breeding,
With hireling hosts a ruffian band,
Affright and desolate the land,
When peace and liberty lie bleeding?To arms, to arms, ye brave!
The avenging sword unsheathe!
March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd
To victory or death!With luxury and pride surrounded,
The vile insatiate despots dare,
Their thirst for gold and power unbounded,
To mete and vend the light and air!
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 unsheathe!
March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd
To victory or death!O Liberty! can man resign thee?
Once having felt thy gen'rous flame,
Can dungeon bolts and bars confine thee,
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Or whips thy noble spirit tame?
Too long the world has wept bewailing,
The bloodstain'd sword our conq'rors wield;
But freedom is our sword and shield,
And all their arts are unavailing!To arms, to arms, ye brave!
The avenging sword unsheathe!
March on, march on, all hearts resolv'd
To victory or death!
La Marseillaise, the French national anthem, was written and composed by Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle on the night of Apr. 24, 1792. It became the great rallying call of the French Revolution and was given its current name after it was sung on the streets of Paris by troops from Marseille. An internationally respected symbol of freedom and human rights, La Marseillaise is musically one of the most sophisticated of the national anthems; it has been quoted and adapted by a number of composers, including Tchaikovsky in his 1812 Overture. This is the first of the seven verses.
Allons, enfants de la Patrie.
Le jour de gloire est arrivé.
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L'étendard sanglant est levé.
L'étendard sanglant est levé:
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes mugir ces féroces soldats?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras, égorger nos fils, nos compagnes.
Aux armes, citoyens! Formez vos bataillons!
Marchons, marchons, qu'un sang impur abreuve nos sillons!