The Fifth of May

^{translated from the Spanish by Ernest S. Green and Miss H. Von Lowenfels}

I

      There were three, but England 
Again launched herself into the waves, 
And the Spanish vessels 
Sailed again to this land. 
Only France exclaimed : “Let there be war !”
Dreaming, O, my fatherland of conquering thee ; 
And in her advantage, making use 
Of infamy and fortune, 
She rose at once to establish 
The right of the stronger.

II

      Seeing not that in such a sanguinary conflict 
Thy arm was weaker, 
The dispute embodied in its obligation 
The redemption of thy affront 
The flames of their cannons 
Broke forth in a yellow light, 
And the world beheld thy legions 
Entering the fierce combat, 
Only carrying for a shield 
The shield of their hearts.

III

      And then it was when, at the cry 
Uttered by thy boldness, 
France trembled with fear 
Understanding her transgression ; 
And when at thy unbounded voice 
Were heard the words, “be it thus !”
And when seeing the terrible 
And desperate conflict, 
In thy hand arose the sword 
And in thy conscience the design.

IV

      Since in the orient shone 
The light of that eternal sun 
Whose pure and delicate ray 
Approaches to kiss thy brow, 
Thy independent banner 
Floated on the mountains 
While the hostile armies 
Raised their flag in anger 
Which was waving haughtily 
With the splendor of their exploits.

V

      And the hour arrived, and the sky. 
Clouded and darkened, 
Disappeared, concealed 
As in the folds of a curtain. 
Death spread his wings 
Over the frightened land, 
And between the terrified Frenchman 
And the furious Mexican, 
Arose the mighty war-cry 
Shaking the earth.

VI

      And there the Frenchman, the first 
Of the soldiers of the world ; 
He who in his glories absorbs 
Those of the whole world, 
Was three times forced to run, 
Pale and fierce, 
Before the intrepid populace 
Who, to save thy name, 
Gave thee a soldier in every man 
And a hero in every soldier.

VII

      Three times ! and when France 
Felt her war fame ruined, 
And gazed upon her banner, 
Stained and gory, 
She saw the illusions 
Of her victory lost, 
And in spite of her strife, 
And in spite of her eagerness, 
She saw glory dawning 
In another heaven and in another world.

VIII

      That which, in the unsteady mist 
That floated over the country, 
And in the vapor which rose 
Beneath the path of the breeze, 
Was for thy innocent heart 
Its most beautiful smile ; 
Its most eloquent song 
To sing on thy journey, 
And its most beautiful crown 
To place on thy brow.

IX

      Yes, fatherland, since that day 
To the world thou art no more 
What Europe, in her profound 
Disdain supposed. 
Since then, my native land, 
Thou hast entered a new era, 
The noble and lasting era 
Of fame and progress 
Which descends to-day, like a kiss 
Of love, upon thy standard.

X

      Over that blessed banner 
Which to-day the people, 
Who in turn are stirred in their affections, 
Come to cover with flowers, 
And who, in the boundless happiness 
With which they plant it in the soil, 
Swear to thee, gallant and brave, 
As once before the Frenchman, 
Sooner than see thee a slave, 
My native land, for thee I die.

1873.