| 
Roget
de Lisle, composer of The Marseillaise
|
|
La Marseillaise was composed in one
night during the French Revolution (April 24, 1792) by Claude-Joseph
Rouget de Lisle, a captain of the engineers and amateur musician. It was
performed at a patriotic banquet at Marseilles, and printed copies were given to
the soldiers who were marching to Paris. They entered Paris singing this
song, and it became a popular
marching tune. It was originally called Chant de guerre de l'armee du Rhin
(War Song of the Army of the Rhine) but the Parisians called it La Marseillaise
because it was sung by the soldiers from Marseilles.
(And it's a lot easier to say.)
The composer himself was not a
revolutionary. He wrote the song to encourage the French troops who were
fighting France's enemies abroad. But he never supported the Revolution at
home. In fact he spent some time in prison and just barely escaped
the guillotine. Ironically his song became the anthem of the revolution,
and in 1795, the national anthem.
It was so revolutionary, in
fact, that Napoleon and Louis XVIII both banned it. It was briefly
restored after the July Revolution of 1830 but was banned again by
Napoleon III. It was not allowed until 1879 and didn't become the official
national anthem again until 1946. |
| French
Lyrics |
English
Lyrics |
|
1
Allons
enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé, (bis)
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras
Egorger vos fils et vos compagnes !
|
1
Arise
you children of our motherland,
Oh now is here our glorious day !
Over us the bloodstained banner
Of tyranny holds sway !
Of tyranny holds sway ! Oh, do you hear there in our fields
The roar of those fierce fighting men ?
Who came right here into our midst
To slaughter sons, wives and kin.
|
REFRAIN
Aux
armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
|
CHORUS
To
arms, oh citizens !
Form up in serried ranks !
March on, march on !
And drench our fields
With their tainted blood !
|
| 2
Que
veut cette horde d'esclaves,
De traîtres, de rois conjurés ?
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ? (bis)
Français, pour nous, ah ! quel outrage
Quels transports il doit exciter !
C'est nous qu'on ose méditer
De rendre à l'antique esclavage !
|
2
Supreme
devotion to our Motherland,
Guides and sustains avenging hands.
Liberty, oh dearest Liberty,
Come fight with your shielding bands,
Come fight with your shielding bands !
Beneath our banner come, oh Victory,
Run at your soul-stirring cry.
Oh come, come see your foes now die,
Witness your pride and our glory.
To
arms, etc.. |
| 3
Quoi
! des cohortes étrangères
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers !
Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers ! (bis)
Grand Dieu ! par des mains enchaînées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient
De vils despotes deviendraient
Les maîtres de nos destinées !
|
3
Into
the fight we too shall enter,
When our fathers are dead and gone,
We shall find their bones laid down to rest,
With the fame of their glories won,
With the fame of their glories won !
Oh, to survive them care we not,
Glad are we to share their grave,
Great honor is to be our lot
To follow or to venge our brave.
To
arms, etc.. |
| 4
Tremblez,
tyrans et vous perfides
L'opprobre de tous les partis,
Tremblez ! vos projets parricides
Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix ! (bis)
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre,
S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros,
La terre en produit de nouveaux,
Contre vous tout prêts à se battre !
|
|
|
5
Français,
en guerriers magnanimes,
Portez ou retenez vos coups !
Epargnez ces tristes victimes,
A regret s'armant contre nous. (bis)
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,
Mais ces complices de Bouillé,
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,
Déchirent le sein de leur mère !
|
|
|
6
Amour
sacré de la Patrie,
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs
Liberté, Liberté chérie,
Combats avec tes défenseurs ! (bis)
Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire
Accoure à tes mâles accents,
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !
|
|
|
7
Nous
entrerons dans la carrière
Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus,
Nous y trouverons leur poussière
Et la trace de leurs vertus (bis)
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre
Que de partager leur cercueil,
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
De les venger ou de les suivre
|
|
|