by
Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)
Forget not the field
Language: English
Available translation(s): FRE
Forget not the field where they perish'd,
The truest, the last of the brave,
All gone--and the bright hope we cherish'd
Gone with them, and quench'd in their grave!
Oh! could we from death but recover
Those hearts as they bounded before,
In the face of high heav'n to fight over
That combat for freedom once more;--
Could the chain for an instant be riven
Which Tyranny flung round us then,
No, 'tis not in Man, nor in Heaven,
To let Tyranny bind it again!
But 'tis past--and, tho' blazon'd in story
The name of our Victor may be,
Accurst is the march of that glory
Which treads o'er the hearts of the free.
Far dearer the grave or the prison,
Illumed by one patriot name,
Than the trophies of all, who have risen
On Liberty's ruins to fame.
Confirmed with Thomas Moore,
A New Edition from the last London Edition, Boston: Lee and Shepard; New York: Lee, Shepard, & Dillingham, 1876.
Authorship:
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
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Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in French (Français), adapted by Thomas Gounet (1801 - 1869) [an adaptation] ; composed by Hector Berlioz.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [
Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2003-11-03
Line count: 20
Word count: 139
N'oubliez pas le champ
Language: French (Français)  after the English
N'oubliez pas le champ où ils ont péri,
Le plus fidèle, le dernier des braves,
Tous partis, et la brillante espérance que nous chérissions
Partie avec eux et éteinte dans leur tombe !
Oh ! Que ne puissions-nous pas recouvrer de la mort
Ces cœurs comme ils battaient autrefois,
Pour livrer encore une fois à la face du ciel infini
Ce combat pour la liberté ;
Si pour un instant pouvait être brisée la chaîne
Que la tyrannie a jetée autour de nous,
Il ne serait donné ni à l'Homme, ni au Ciel
De laisser la Tyrannie la serrer à nouveau !
Mais c'est le passé, et bien que dans l'histoire fut proclamé
Le nom de notre Vainqueur
Maudite soit la marche vers cette gloire
Qui écrase les cœurs des hommes libres.
Plus chère est la tombe ou la prison
Illuminée par le nom d'un patriote,
Que les trophées de tous ceux qui se sont
Élevés à la gloire sur les ruines de la liberté.
Authorship:
- Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2014 by Pierre Mathé, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.
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Based on:
This text was added to the website: 2014-04-18
Line count: 20
Word count: 165