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Translated by H. Ware
HARK! hear the sounds, the sounds that are swelling, | |
| We are free! we are free! we are free! | |
| Hark! hear you, our fetters are breaking! | |
| On her throne noble Liberty see! | |
| In the sight of the world has arisen | 5 |
| A nation glorious, rejoicing, and free, | |
| Her fair brow with laurels encircled, | |
| The proud lion of Spain at her knee. | |
| Green forever be the laurels | |
| Which our brows encircle high! | 10 |
| We ’ve won them, we ’ll wear them with glory, | |
| Let us swear, when we lose them, to die!” | |
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| The breast of each grim-visaged champion | |
| Great Mars with fell rage does inspire; | |
| With fury each brave heart is burning, | 15 |
| And glows with the heaven-kindled fire. | |
| The earth with our firm tramp is shaking, | |
| The Inca is roused in his grave, | |
| For he feels that his children are waking | |
| The proud name of their country to save! | 20 |
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| From the mountains the war-cry is rising! | |
| From the cities it echoes afar; | |
| The plains all around are resounding | |
| With “Liberty, vengeance, and war!” | |
| The breast of the proud-hearted tyrants | 25 |
| Foul envy has touched with her gall, | |
| And now, their red banner unfurling, | |
| For battle and slaughter they call. | |
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| On Mexico now, and on Quito | |
| The march of the tyrants we see, | 30 |
| Hear the wail of the blood-flowing cities, | |
| Cochabamba, La Paz, Potosí! | |
| See them now upon mourning Caraccas | |
| Bring carnage and weeping and woe! | |
| Now behold them, like tigers devouring | 35 |
| The nations their power has brought low! | |
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| On you now, O valiant Argentines, | |
| The invader has come in his pride! | |
| Your plains he is trampling, insulting, | |
| And thinks o’er your glories to ride! | 40 |
| But soon on these bloodthirsty tigers | |
| Our stout-hearted champions shall fall, | |
| And vainly shall they be resisted | |
| Who rallied at Liberty’s call. | |
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| To arms the true-hearted Argentines | 45 |
| Are rushing with generous zeal; | |
| Through the plains of the South is resounding | |
| The trumpet’s awakening peal! | |
| The hosts of the Union are marching, | |
| Buenos Ayres the van does maintain, | 50 |
| And the arms of our champions are tearing | |
| The proud, cruel Lion of Spain! | |
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| San José, San Lorenzo, Suipacha, | |
| Both Piedras, Salta, Tucuman, | |
| And the tyrant’s sure stronghold, Colonia, | 55 |
| And those in the Band Oriental, | |
| Bear inscriptions eternal that tell us | |
| “The Argentines here conquered their foe, | |
| Here the cruel oppressor was vanquished, | |
| And here his proud head was brought low!” | 60 |
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| Now victory, on sun-lighted pinions, | |
| Above us is soaring on high, | |
| And the tyrant’s base, cowardly minions | |
| In fear from the battle-field fly! | |
| His banners, his arms, now surrendered, | 65 |
| As Liberty’s trophies we own, | |
| And the nation, triumphant in glory, | |
| Is crowding round Liberty’s throne! | |
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| From pole to pole hear now resounding | |
| The shrill-blowing trumpet of fame, | 70 |
| It tells and repeats to all nations | |
| The sound of America’s name! | |
| Now, Liberty’s throne in surrounding | |
| Hear it ringing from mountain to sea! | |
| “God save the Argentine Republic!” | 75 |
| “God prosper the land of the free!” | |
| Green forever be the laurels | |
| Which our brows encircle high! | |
| We ’ve won them, we ’ll wear them with glory, | |
| Let us swear, when we lose them, to die!” | 80 |
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