Departure of the horsemen

A formidable cry has risen

from the home of the thunder.

All France rang

with a new sound of war.

Vulcan's forge whimpers,

Pallas puts on her armor.

The terrified echo trembles

and leaves a long murmur.

Run, run, ardent coursers,

called by the homeland

to serve a dear cause

in the field of laurels.

May you all fight

with equal ardor and success,

may you be the new Bucephalus

of a French Alexander.

Already I see your floating manes

stand up at the sounds

that have just blasted

from the war trumpets.

I see the fires of valor

in your burning glances,

the fires of impatience

under your sparkling hoofs.

At last the signal is given

to their burning courage.

They are off, and the astonished eye

seeks them in space.

France has heard their adieux.

They fly to glory,

and joyful neighing

is their victory song.