 | The tri-color ; or the three days of blood, in Paris |  |
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THE TRI-COLOR.
Glory to the Tri-color,
Gallant emblem of the free,
Trampled long, in dust and gore,
Still the sign of Liberty.
Lo! again, in pride it soars,
And the gallant heart admires,
Freedom, that thy noblest shores,
Cherish children like their sires.
High in beauty it ascendeth,
In the world's admiring eyes,
Gracefully each colour blendeth,
'Neath the warm, approving skies.
Emblem of the ever true,
First, appears the eternal blue;
Purity and Truth are seen
In the lily's white between,
To these, join the living red,
Sign of blood, so often shed,
For the rights, which kings had better,
Well consult, before they fetter.
Gallant emblem of the free,
Trampled long, in dust and gore,
Still the sign of Liberty.
Lo! again, in pride it soars,
And the gallant heart admires,
Freedom, that thy noblest shores,
Cherish children like their sires.
High in beauty it ascendeth,
In the world's admiring eyes,
Gracefully each colour blendeth,
'Neath the warm, approving skies.
Emblem of the ever true,
First, appears the eternal blue;
Purity and Truth are seen
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To these, join the living red,
Sign of blood, so often shed,
For the rights, which kings had better,
Well consult, before they fetter.
Glory to the Tri-color—
Long in beauty may it wave,
Trod by Tyrant's feet, no more,
O'er the lofty and the brave.
Freedom has no higher sign
In the archives of her trust,
And, in splendor, it shall shine,
When the regal crown is dust.
May the form that bows before it
Hold its quarrel to the last,
And the Heav'n that gathers o'er it,
Shield it from each angry blast—
Consecrate each gallant martyr,
Who has bled for Freedom's charter,
While his blood, so freely ta'en,
Shall not then be spilt in vain—
Other spirits shall appear,
Proud as those who perish'd there,
Gifted with the aspirations,
Which have bless'd and saved the nations.
Long in beauty may it wave,
Trod by Tyrant's feet, no more,
O'er the lofty and the brave.
Freedom has no higher sign
In the archives of her trust,
And, in splendor, it shall shine,
When the regal crown is dust.
May the form that bows before it
Hold its quarrel to the last,
And the Heav'n that gathers o'er it,
Shield it from each angry blast—
Consecrate each gallant martyr,
Who has bled for Freedom's charter,
While his blood, so freely ta'en,
Shall not then be spilt in vain—
Other spirits shall appear,
Proud as those who perish'd there,
Gifted with the aspirations,
Which have bless'd and saved the nations.
| The tri-color ; or the three days of blood, in Paris | |