 | The tri-color ; or the three days of blood, in Paris |  |
Glory, unto the gallant youths, who stood,
Generous and firm, in freedom's sacred van;
Unshrinking, who poured forth their dearest blood,
Asserting, dying for, the rights of man!
And glory to the banners of that nation
Whose sacred name they bore, and with whose spirit,
Proudly endued, who took their fearless station,
With those who did a common cause inherit!
They shall have glory—undiminished glory,
Well registered, and written down in story.
When Tyrants are no longer seen, or stand,
In recollection vague, or dim tradition,
As do the giant bones that fill our land,
Wrecks of some mighty ruins of the past—
Relic of monster's whose o'ergrown condition,
The very God that made them, had to blast!
Generous and firm, in freedom's sacred van;
Unshrinking, who poured forth their dearest blood,
Asserting, dying for, the rights of man!
And glory to the banners of that nation
Whose sacred name they bore, and with whose spirit,
Proudly endued, who took their fearless station,
With those who did a common cause inherit!
They shall have glory—undiminished glory,
Well registered, and written down in story.
74
In recollection vague, or dim tradition,
As do the giant bones that fill our land,
Wrecks of some mighty ruins of the past—
Relic of monster's whose o'ergrown condition,
The very God that made them, had to blast!
| The tri-color ; or the three days of blood, in Paris | |