( " Oh! laissez-moi pleurer sur cetta race. " )

Oh! let me weep that race whose day is past,
By exile given, by exile claimed once more,
Thrice swept away upon that fatal blast.
Whate'er its blame, escort we to our shore
These relics of the monarchy of yore;
And to th' outmarching oriflamme be paid
War's honours by the flag on Fleurus' field displayed!