THE CURTAIN RISES. BELGIUM, _a girl dressed in Belgian costume, clutching Belgium’s flag to her heart, enters and rushes to center of stage_. _BELGIUM_: Hark! Hark! Do you not hear it? The heavy measured tread, the rumbling cannon, the screaming shot, the bursting shell, the anguished cries of my brave children? Look! Look! Can you not see? Nay, thank God you cannot see what I have been forced to look upon. (BELGIUM _covers her eyes_.) Oh, my sons! My brave sons--for ye were brave! Ye fell, but ye fell with your faces to the foe, defending your homes, your country, and your honor! Still ye are gone and I am left desolate. Oh, my children, my children! None too young, none too old, none too brave, none too tender to escape the brutal destroyer! All lost, lost, lost! (_The distant strains of “Sambre et Meuse” are heard and_ FRANCE, _a girl dressed in classic white robe, wearing liberty cap, and carrying tricolor, enters. She goes to_ BELGIUM’S _side and places her hand on the latter’s shoulder_.) _FRANCE_: Arise, my Sister. All is _not_ lost! Thine honor and thy truth and thy loyalty are all untarnished. Pure and white they shine before the eyes of all the world. Till the stars fade and the sun dies, all men shall say of thee, “Belgium’s is a consecrated,--Belgium’s is a holy ground!” Lift up thy flag. It has never trailed in the dust, and it never shall. Together, shoulder to shoulder, we will face the foe, and _They Shall Not Pass_. On, on my Sister, on to Victory! NO. 2. _CHORUS_: “THE MARSEILLAISE”: Ye sons of Freedom, wake to glory! Hark! Hark! what myriads bid you rise! Your children, wives, and grandsires hoary, Behold their tears and hear their cries! Shall hateful tyrants, mischief breeding, With hireling hosts, a ruffian band, Affright and desolate the land, While peace and liberty lie bleeding? To arms! To arms! ye brave! The avenging sword unsheathe; March on! March on! all hearts resolved On victory or death. Now, now the dangerous storm is rolling, Which treacherous kings, confederate, raise; The dogs of war, let loose, are howling, And lo! our fields and cities blaze; And shall we basely view the ruin, While lawless force with guilty stride, Spreads desolation far and wide, With crimes and blood his hands imbruing? O Liberty! can man resign thee, Once having felt thy generous flame? Can dungeons, bolts, or bars confine thee? Or whips thy noble spirit tame? Too long the world has wept bewailing That falsehood’s dagger tyrants wield, But freedom is our sword and shield, And all their arts are unavailing.