Classic Poem

Haste, ye noble sons of France!
See, the glorious days advance:
Tyrants, and their slavish train,
Raise the bloody flag in vain;
Hark! through all the country round,
The slaughtering warriors' cries resound;
Marks of blood their foot-steps trace,
Tremble for your infant race.
Heroes, to arms! resistless as the flood,
And may our soil drink deep their impious blood.

CHORUS .

And may our soil drink deep their impious blood.
What would all this slavish band,
Kings! conspir'd against our land;
Do they for us their chains prepare?
Are we their shackles doom'd to wear?
The intrepid French!...Insulting foe!
Let fury in our bosoms glow;
Have they the insolence to think,
Again to slavery we'll sink?
Heroes to arms! &c. &c.

What! shall foreign squadrons dare
Enslave us, who are free as air?
What! shall troops, who fight for pay,
Hurl our warriors from the day?
Shall we bend, great God! the knee
To nations void of liberty!
Shall they, horrid to relate,
Lord it o'er our future fate?
Heroes, to arms! &c. &c.

Tremble despots! and ye band,
Who left fair freedom's sacred land!
Tremble parricidal crew,
Vengeance bends her looks on you;
Ready all our youth to fight,
If they fall in freedom's right,
From the earth's wide opening jaws
Their sons shall spring to aid our cause.
Heroes, to arms! &c. &c.

Generous warriors in the field,
The fallen foe from carnage shield;
Though the wretches spread alarms,
With regret they bore their arms;
But the blood-stain'd hostile band,
But the traitors to our land,
Be on them our vengeance hurl'd,
Sweep them from an injur'd world.
Heroes, to arms! &c. &c.

Sacred love of Gallia's clime,
String each nerve with force divine;
Liberty! thou long sought maid,
Fight in thy defenders' aid,
When our banners wave on high,
" Die or conquer, " be the cry;
Let our foes, expiring see
Thy glorious triumphs liberty!
Heroes, to arms! &c. &c.