Broke to every known mischance, lifted over all
By the light sane joy of life, the buckler of the Gaul,
Furious in luxury, merciless in toil,
Terrible with strength that draws from her tireless soil;
Strictest judge of her own worth, gentlest of man's mind,
First to follow Truth and last to leave old Truths behind-
France beloved of every soul that loves its fellow-kind!
Ere our birth (rememberest thou?) side by side we lay
Fretting in the womb of Rome to begin our fray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem