Fair choice of France, but baffled crawls away.
Prone at your feet your faithful servant fell,
But you stride calmly on, unscathed, invulnerable.
So may it be till Anarchy's stealthy blade
Falls pointless, shattered, from its palsied grasp,
And helpless, harmless as a fangless asp
It slinks from freedom's pathway, foiled, afraid,
Whilst the Republic, strong and undismayed,
With robe unsmirched, its hem no longer gory,
Strides proudly on the true high path of glory.