La Cévenole
La Cévenole is a Huguenot hymn written by Ruben Saillens. It was first sung for the bicentenary of the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, at Moissac-Vallée-Française, on the 23rd of August 1885.[1]
Content[edit]
This hymn alludes to the persecution of the Huguenots which followed the revocation of the Edict of Nantes by Louis XIV in 1685. The title of the song refers to the remote and rough region of the Cévennes where a large, peasant-led uprising, took place in the early 1700s.
Lyrics[edit]
Salut montagnes bien aimées,
Pays sacré de nos aïeux.
Vos vertes cimes sont semées,
De leur souvenir glorieux.
Élevez vos têtes chenues
Espérou, Bougès, Aigoual,
De leur gloire qui monte aux nues,
Vous n’êtes que le piédestal.
Chorus :
Esprit qui les fis vivre,
Anime leurs enfants
Anime leurs enfants
Pour qu’ils sachent les suivre.
Redites-nous, grottes profondes,
L’écho de leurs chants d’autrefois ;
Et vous, torrents, qui, dans vos ondes,
Emportiez le bruit de leur voix.
Les uns, traqués de cime en cimes,
En vrai lions surent lutter ;
D’autres - ceux-là furent sublimes -
Surent mourir sans résister.
Ô vétérans de nos vallées,
Vieux châtaigniers aux bras tordus,
Les cris des mères désolées,
Vous seuls les avez entendus.
Suspendus aux flancs des collines,
Vous seuls savez que d’ossements
Dorment là-bas dans les ravines,
Jusqu’au grand jour des jugements.
Dans quel granit, ô mes Cévennes,
Fut taillé ce peuple vainqueur ?
Quel sang avaient-ils dans les veines ?
Quel amour avaient-ils au cœur ?
L’Esprit de Christ était la vie
De ces pâtres émancipés,
Et dans le sang qui purifie
Leurs courages étaient trempés.
Cévenols, le Dieu de nos pères
N’est-il pas notre Dieu toujours ?
Servons-le dans les jours prospères
Comme ils firent aux mauvais jours ;
Et, vaillants comme ils surent l’être,
Nourris comme eux du pain des forts,
Donnons notre vie à ce Maître
Pour lequel nos aïeux sont morts.
Hail beloved mountains,
Sacred land of our forefathers.
Your green summits are sown
Of their glorious memory.
Raise your hoary heads
Esperou, Bougès,Aigoual,
Of their glory which rises to the heavens,
You are only the pedestal.
Chorus :
Spirit that made them live,
Animate their children
Animate their children
So that they know how to follow them.
Tell us again, deep caves,
The echo of their songs of old;
And you, torrents, who, in your waves
Carried the sound of their voices.
Some, tracked from peak to peak,
As true lions knew how to fight;
Others - those were sublime -
Knew how to die without resisting.
O veterans of our valleys,
Old chestnut trees with twisted arms,
The cries of the desolate mothers,
You alone have heard them.
Hanging on the sides of the hills,
You alone know that bones
Sleep there in the ravines,
Until the great day of judgments.
In which granite, oh my Cevennes,
Was carved this victorious people?
What blood had they in the veins?
What love was in their hearts?
The Spirit of Christ was the life
Of these emancipated shepherds,
And in the blood that purifies
Their hearts were soaked.
Cevennes, the God of our fathers
Is he not our God always?
Let us serve him in prosperous days
As they did in grim days;
And, valiant as they knew how to be,
Let us feed, as they did, on the bread of the strong,
Let us give our lives to this Master
For whom our forefathers died.
References[edit]
This article "La Cévenole" is from Wikipedia. The list of its authors can be seen in its historical and/or the page Edithistory:La Cévenole. Articles copied from Draft Namespace on Wikipedia could be seen on the Draft Namespace of Wikipedia and not main one.
