Marie-Louise at her son's cradle

Darling child, gift of the gods,

hope of your sensitive mother,

come, let me see

your father's lineaments and heart.

You brighten my existence

with a new future,

and I pass the happiest days of my life

by your cradle.

Thou heir of Caesar,

whom Rome calls and reveres,

the gods have graven

their sacred signs on your standard.

They already cover your cradle

with the happy skies of Italy

to spare your life

from the dangers of a new climate.

Bards, troubadours, knights -

sing an end to our alarums.

Vanquished kings, warrior peoples,

lay down your arms immediately.

A new angel of peace

is watching over us and supports us.

See lying in the cradle

the love and the repose of the world.