The gods had decreed, in their justice divine,
That the vials of wrath should be poured on the world,
And allowed, to accomplish the fated design,
Disaster and Terror on earth to be hurled;
Confusion prevailed,
The Throne was assailed,
Religion her altars and temples bewailed,
And the crown of St Louis, by Treason and War,
Was torn from the brow of the Son of Navarre.
A Sceptre of iron, and boundless command,
To a tyrant, a slave, and usurper were given;
Truth, Justice, and Mercy were banished the land,
By the rod of the Despot reluctantly driven:
Freedom fled from the shore,
Peace blossomed no more,
And the Lilies of France were empurpled with gore,
When the Lion of Britain, so dreadful in war,
Erected his crest for the Son of Navarre.
Success and renown to the banners that wave,
Where Freedom ne'er planted her standard before!
May wreaths from the laurel distinguish the Brave,
Where'er the loud cannon of Liberty roar!
May the Thistle and Rose
To the world give repose,
With the Shamrock entwined, on the Shannon that grows,
And the Lion of Britain, so powerful in war,
Give Peace and a Crown to the Son of Navarre.
To guard for the Bourbon his spotless cockade,
St Andrew, St George, and St Patrick combine;
Before them the Tri-coloured Ribbon shall fade,
And the Despot be chased from the Land of the Vine.
The Lily shall reign,
Sweetest flower of the Seine,
Inwreathed with the Olive and Laurel again,
For the Lion, no longer a rival in war,
Restores to his Empire the Son of Navarre.