THE lads of Liege, beyond our eyes They lie where beauty's laurels be — With lads of old Thermopylæ, Who stayed the storming Persians. The lads of Liege, on glory's field They clasp the hands of Roland's men, Who lonely faced the Saracen Meeting the dark invasion. The lads — the deathless lads of Liege, They blazon through our living world Their land — the little land that hurled Olympian defiance. "Now make us room, now let us pass; Our monarch suffers no delay. To stand in mighty Cæsar's way Beseems not Lilliputians." "We make no room; you shall not pass, For freedom says your monarch nay! And we have stood in Cæsar's way Through freedom's generations. "And here we stand till freedom fall And Cæsar cry, ere we succumb, Once more his @3horum omnium Fortissimi sunt Belgæ@1." The monarch roars an iron laugh And cries on God to man his guns; But Belgian mothers bore them sons Who man the souls within them: They bar his path, they hold their pass, They blaze in glory of the Gaul Till Cæsar cries again "Of all The bravest are the Belgians!" O lads of Liege, brave lads of Liege, Your souls through glad Elysium Go chanting: @3horum omnium Fortissimi sunt Belgæ!@1 |