Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/119

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 * of shame—awake, Time cries,
 * To brave the bullets and the guns,
 * Still at its hour the tide must rise,
 * And France relies upon her sons.
 * Now tuck up sleeves of blouses blue,
 * Remember, the men of Ninety-two
 * Dared twenty kings on battle plains—
 * Bastilles again and vilest chains!
 * What, when the sires could Titans brave,
 * Shall dwarfs like these the sons enslave?

Sweep away the tyrant, and his bandits accurst! God, God is with you, let Baal's priests do their worst!
 * God is king over all.

Before Him who is strong? Lo! He lifts up His hand, And the tigers fly howling through deserts of sand,
 * And the sea-serpents crawl,

Obedient and meek! He breathes on idols of gold In their temples of marble, gigantic and old,
 * And like Dagon they fall!


 * You are not armed? It matters not,
 * Tear out the hinges of the door!