"On the Expected General Rising of the French Nation in 1792" a poem by Anna Barbauld

A poem from the public domain

Intro

A couple weeks ago, I stopped by the library and picked up a copy of Poetry of Witness: The Tradition in English 1500-2001, an anthology of poems written about, around, during, because of, in support of, or in opposition to various major western conflicts (mostly revolutions but also some rights movements).

This is the second poem I’ve found in this anthology and shared with y’all. Last week, I shared my reading of “Reveille” by Lola Ridge, a powerful working class anthem. This one is also an anthem—this time in support of the French Revolution.

I hope you enjoy my reading, despite me getting a little tongue-tied at one point (I didn’t want to record a fourth take!) and that this poem inspires your passions to stand up for democratic ideals against oligarchy. Remember, their wealth depends on our labor, not the other way around.

Thank you to everyone who has subscribed here and/or donated to my writing projects on ko-fi.com/thepoetmiranda. Your support means the world to me. If you’d like to read some of my original poems, follow this link.

The poem text is below, followed by my reading.

💜Miranda📚

On the Expected General Rising of the French Nation in 1792

Rise mighty nation, in thy strength,
And deal thy dreadful vengeance round;
Let thy great spirit, rous'd at length,
Strike hordes of despots to the ground!

Devoted land! thy mangled breast
Eager the royal vultures tear:
By friends betray'd, by foes oppress'd,
And Virtue struggles with Despair.

The tocsin sounds! Arise, arise!
Stern o'er each breast let country reign;
Nor virgin's plighted hand nor sighs
Must now the ardent youth detain:

Nor must the hind who tills thy soil
The ripen'd vintage stay to press,
'Till rapture crown the flowing bowl,
And Freedom boast of full success.

Briareus-like extend thy hands,
That every hand may crush a foe;
In millions pour thy generous bands,
And end a warfare by a blow!

Then wash with sad repentant tears
Each deed that clouds thy glory's page,
Each frenzied start impell'd by fears,
Each transient burst of headlong rage:

Then fold in thy relenting arms
Thy wretched outcasts where they roam;
From pining want and war's alarms,
Oh, call the child of misery home!

Then build the tomb—oh, not alone,
Of him who bled in freedom's cause;
With equal eye the martyr own,
Of faith revered and antient laws.

Then be thy tide of glory stay'd;
Then be thy conquering banners furl'd;
Obey the laws thyself hast made,
And rise—the model of the world!

My Reading