French National Anthem: La Marseillaise
La Marseillaise was first written and composed by Claude Joseph Rouget de Lisle at Strasbourg on April 25, 1792. Its original name is Chant de guerre de l’Armée du Rhin (“Marching Song of the Rhine Army”) and it was dedicated to Marshall Nicolas Luckner, a Bavarian-born French officer from Cham.
- It became the rallying call of the French Revolution and got its name because it was sung on the streets by troops from Marseille upon their arrival in Paris.
- It was banned under the French Empires of Napoléon and Napoléon III and during the German occupation during World War II.
- However today, despite some qualms over its militaristic tendencies, it remains popular.
La Marseillaise
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 !
(Refrain)
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons!
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!
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 !
Aux armes, citoyens,
Formez vos bataillons,
Marchons, marchons!
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons!
English Translation
Let us go, children of the fatherland
Our day of Glory has arrived.
Against us stands tyranny,
The bloody flag is raised,
The bloody flag is raised.
Do you hear in the countryside
The roar of these savage soldiers
They come right into our arms
To cut the throats of your sons,
your country.
Refrain
To arms, citizens!
Form up your battalions
Let us march, Let us march!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
Sacred love of the fatherland
Guide and support our vengeful arms.
Liberty, beloved liberty,
Fight with your defenders;
Fight with your defenders.
Under our flags, so that victory
Will rush to your manly strains;
That your dying enemies
Should see your triumph and glory
To arms, citizens!
Form up your battalions
Let us march, Let us march!
That their impure blood
Should water our fields
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