lows, 'With pikes, and with shouts, and with torches March'd onwards our dusty battalions, Who fought and who bled in her And we girt the tall castle of Louis, wars, She sneer'd at our gallant Rocham-We storm'd the fair gardens where A million of tatterdemalions! beau, And turned Lafayette out of doors. "Ventrebleu! then I swore a great oath, No more to such tyrants to kneel. And so just to keep up my drumming, One day I drumm'd down the Bastille. Ho, landlord! a stoup of fresh wine. Come, comrades, a bumper we'll try, And drink to the year eighty-nine And the glorious fourth of July! tower'd vain through the chambers we Mid heaps of the dying and dead, sought him He had turn'd like a craven and fled. "You all know the Place de la Concorde? "Tis hard by the Tuilerie wall. Mid terraces, fountains, and statues, There rises an obelisk tall. There rises an obelisk tall, All garnish'd and gilded the base is: 'Tis surely the gayest of all Our beautiful city's gay places. "Around it are gardens and flowers, And the Cities of France on their thrones, Each crown'd with his circlet of flowers Sits watching this biggest of stones! I love to go sit in the sun there, The flowers and fountains to see, And to think of the deeds that were done there In the glorious year ninety-three. ""Twas here stood the Altar of Freedom; And though neither marble nor gilding Was used in those days to adorn Our simple republican building, Corbleu! but the MERE GUILLOTINE Cared little for splendor or show, So you gave her an axe and a beam, And a plank and a basket or so. ""Twas thus that our country was saved; So told us the safety committee ! As we offered to justice offended 66 Away with such foul recollections ! No more of the axe and the block; I saw the last fight of the sections, As they fell 'neath our guns at Saint Young BONAPARTE led us that day; When he sought the Italian frontier, I follow'd my gallant young captain, I follow'd him many a long year. "We came to an army in rags, Our general was but a boy When we first saw the Austrian flags Flaunt proud in the fields of Savoy. In the glorious year ninety-six, We march'd to the banks of the Po; I carried my drum and my sticks, And we laid the proud Austrian low. "In triumph we enter'd Milan, We seized on the Mantuan keys; The troops of the Emperor ran, And the Pope he fell down on his knees." Pierre's comrades here call'd a fresh bottle, And clubbing together their wealth, They drank to the Army of Italy, And General Bonaparte's health. The drummer now bared his old breast, And show'd us a plenty of scars, Rude presents that Fortune had made him, In fifty victorious wars. "This came when I follow'd bold Kleber "Twas shot by a Mameluke gun; And this from an Austrian sabre, When the field of Marengo was won. |