Sons of your country, on to her aid!
The day of glory now appears;
Lo! Tyranny 'gainst you array'd,
His blood-dripping standard uprears!
See your fields teem with war's dread alarms!
Hear the soldiers' boisterous roar!
They venture even to your arms,
Your sons and your wives to engore.
To arms! to arms, ye brave!
Your marshall'd banners wave!
March on! march on! their blood impure
Our battle-field shall lave!

What would with us the slavish horde,
Of traitors leagued, and kings combined?
Their chains and their manacles stored —
For whom are these fetters design'd?
Frenchmen, for us this deep disgrace!
What transports in our hearts should burn!
'Tis we whom thus they dare menace
To ancient slavery to return!
To arms! &c.

See cohorts vile, from foreign lands,
Seek to rule, unsway'd, our realm;
And the phalanx of hireling bands
Would our warriors fierce overwhelm!
Mighty God! this manacled crew
Our necks beneath the yoke would bend!
On hateful despots then anew
Our lives and fortunes would depend!
To arms! &c.,

Tyrants beware! and ye false clans,
Whom opprobrious all regard;
Be aware that your parricide plans
Shall at length undergo their reward!
All are soldiers against you to fight;
And if our young heroes should be slain,
New forces France would soon unite,
In battle to engage again.
To arms! &c.

Frenchmen, magnanimous, forbear,
Circumspectly deal your blows;
Those unhappy victims spare,
Who became your unwilling foes.
But yon bloody despot force, —
On them your heaviest wrath descend;
Those tigers who without remorse,
The bosom of their mother rend.
To arms! &c.

Love of our country, sacred flame,
Our avenging arms protect!
Oh Liberty! long cherish'd name,
Thy defenders aid and direct!
Our ensigns for battle unroll'd,
At thy call may Victory crown;
Till dying enemies behold
Thy triumph, and thy sons' renown!
To arms! to arms, ye brave!
Your marshall'd banners wave!
March on! march on! their blood impure
Our battle-field shall lave!