Ravished and mocked and chained;
For Belgium, nailed to the martyr’s cross,
For holding her faith unstained.
Thou Maid, who cam’st, like a beacon flame,
In thy people’s darkest hour,
Who bade them thrill with patriot will
By the spell of thy mystic power,
As thou gav’st them heart to speed the dart
From arquebus and bow,
Give us to drive, with the 75,