(Chorus)
SWEET COUNTRY, RECEIVE THE VOWS
TO WHICH THOU DIDST ON THY ALTAR MAKE OATH,
THAT CHILE SHALL BE THE TOMB OF THE FREE,
OR AN ASYLUM AGAINST OPPRESSION.
1
The bloody fight has ceased and
Yesterday’s invader is now a brother.
Of three centuries we wash the affront,
Fighting on the field of honor.
He that was yesterday called slave
Is seen at last free and triumphant,--
Liberty is the inheritance of the brave,
Victory humbles herself at his feet.
2
Lift, O Chile, thy stainless brow,
For thou didst win thy name in battle;
The sons of the Cid did ever find thee
Noble, constant, true and brave.
Let thy children tranquilly crown
Industry, peace and the arts,
And sing hymns of victory
To terrify the audacious despot.
3
Your names, valiant soldiers,
Who have been Chile’s support,
Shall be engraved on our hearts
And on those of our children as well.
Let them be the war cry of death
On our march to the battle,
And out of the mouth of the strong,
May they ever make the tyrant tremble.
4
Should the foreigners’ cannon
Dare to invade our lands,
Let us draw the sword at once,
And know how to conquer or die.
With the blood of the Araucanian
We have inherited our valor;
The sword shall not tremble in the hand
That defends the honor of Chile.
5
Pure, O Chile, is thy azure sky,
Purest breezes do cross thee as well,
And thy flower-embroidered fields
Are the happy copy of Eden.
Majestic are the snow-covered mountains,
Given by God for thy bulwark,
And the ocean that washes thy shores
Is a promise of thy future splendor.
6
Those graces, O Chile, those flowers
Which carpet thy fruitful soil,
Let them never be trod by invaders,
But sheltered by the shadow of peace.
Our hearts shall be thy walls,--
With thy name we shall know how to win,
Or thy noble and glorious standard
Shall see us fall fighting.