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"The Brabantian" is the national anthem of Belgium. The original text was first written in 1830 by Alexandre Dechet and Constantin Rodenbach, and the melody was composed by François van Campenhout in 1830. The current lyrics were written by Charles Rogier in 1860. It was adopted in 1860 with current text later in 1921.[1][2]

Lyrics[]

"La_Brabançonne"_-_National_Anthem_of_Belgium_-TRILINGUAL-

"La Brabançonne" - National Anthem of Belgium -TRILINGUAL-

Current official[]

The current version are in French, Dutch, and German, as they are the official languages of Belgium.

Original text IPA transcription English translation

Noble Belgique, ô mère chérie,
À toi nos cœurs, à toi nos bras,
À toi notre sang, ô Patrie !
Nous le jurons tous, tu vivras !
Tu vivras toujours grande et belle
Et ton invincible unité
Aura pour devise immortelle :
Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté !

O dierbaar België, O heilig land der Vaad'ren,
Onze ziel en ons hart zijn u gewijd.
Aanvaard ons kracht en het bloed van onze ad'ren,
Wees ons doel in arbeid en in strijd.
Bloei, o land, in eendracht niet te breken;
Wees immer uzelf en ongeknecht,
Het woord getrouw, dat g' onbevreesd moogt spreken,
Voor Vorst, voor Vrijheid en voor Recht![3]

O liebes Land, o Belgiens Erde,
Dir unser Herz, Dir unsere Hand,
Dir unser Blut, o Heimaterde,
wir schwören's Dir, o Vaterland!
So blühe froh in voller Schöne,
zu der die Freiheit Dich erzog,
und fortan singen Deine Söhne:
Gesetz und König und die Freiheit hoch!

O dierbaar België, O heilig land der Vaad'ren,
Onze ziel en ons hart zijn u gewijd.
À toi notre sang, ô Patrie !
Nous le jurons tous, tu vivras !
So blühe froh in voller Schöne,
zu der die Freiheit Dich erzog,
und fortan singen Deine Söhne:
Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté !
Het woord getrouw, dat g' onbevreesd moogt spreken,
Voor Vorst, voor Vrijheid en voor Recht!
Gesetz und König und die Freiheit hoch!
Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté !

[nɔbl bɛlʒik o‿mɛʁ ʃeʁi]
[a‿twa nɔ kœʁ a‿twa nɔ bʁa]
[a‿twa nɔtʁ sɑ̃ o‿patʁi]
[nu‿le ʒyʁɔ̃ tus tu‿vivʁa]
[tu‿vivʁa tuʒuʁ grɑ̃d e‿bɛl]
[et‿tɔ̃ ɛ̃vɛ̃sibl ynite]
[oʁa puʁ dɛvis imɔʁtɛl]
[lə‿ʁwa la‿lwa la‿libɛʁte]

[ɔ ˈdirbaːr ˈbɛlɣijə o ˈhɛilɪx ˈlant dɛr vaːdˈrɛn]
[ˈɔnzə ˈzil ɛn ˈɔns ˈɦart ˈzɛin ʏɣɛˈwɛit]
[ˈaːnvaːrt ons ˈkraxt ɛn ɦɛt ˈblut van ˈɔnzə adˈrɛn]
[weːs ˈɔns dul ɪn ˈarbɛit ɛn ɪn ˈstrɛit]
[ˈblui ɔ ˈlant ɪn eːnˈdraxt nit tɛ brɛkɛn]
[weːs ˈimɛr ʏzɛlf ɛn ɔŋɛˈknɛxt]
[ɦɛt woːrt ˈɣɛtrau dat ɣˈɔnbɛvreːst moːɣt ˈsprɛkɛn]
[voːr ˑvɔrst voːr ˈvrɛiɦɛit ɛn voːr rɛxt]

[ɔ ˈlibɛs ˈlant o bɛlɡi̯əns ˈɛɐdə]
[dɪʁ ˈʊnzɐ ˈhɛɐts dɪʁ ˈʊnzɛɐə ˈhant]
[dɪʁ ˈʊnzɐ ˈbluːt ɔ ˈhaɪmatɐdə]
[vɪʁ ˈʃvœʁn̩s dɪʁ ɔ fatɛʁˈlant]
[zɔ blyːə ˈfʁoː ɪn ˈfɔlɐ ˈʃøːnə]
[tsʊ dɐ diː ˈfʁaɪhaɪt dɪç ˈɛɐtsɔk]
[ʊnt ˈfɔʁtan ˈzɪŋgn̩ ˈdaɪnɛ ˈzøːnɛ]
[gɛzɛts ʊnt ˈkøːnɪç ʊnt diː ˈfʁaɪhaɪt hɔx]

[ɔ ˈdirbaːr ˈbɛlɣijə o ˈhɛilɪx ˈlant dɛr vaːdˈrɛn]
[ˈɔnzə ˈzil ɛn ˈɔns ˈɦart ˈzɛin ʏɣɛˈwɛit]
[a‿twa nɔtʁ sɑ̃ o‿patʁi]
[nu‿le ʒyʁɔ̃ tus tu‿vivʁa]
[zɔ blyːə ˈfʁoː ɪn ˈfɔlɐ ˈʃøːnə]
[tsʊ dɐ diː ˈfʁaɪhaɪt dɪç ˈɛɐtsɔk]
[ʊnt ˈfɔʁtan ˈzɪŋgn̩ ˈdaɪnɛ ˈzøːnɛ]
[lə‿ʁwa la‿lwa la‿libɛʁte]
[ɦɛt woːrt ˈɣɛtrau dat ɣˈɔnbɛvreːst moːɣt ˈsprɛkɛn]
[voːr ˑvɔrst voːr ˈvrɛiɦɛit ɛn voːr rɛxt]
[gɛzɛts ʊnt ˈkøːnɪç ʊnt diː ˈfʁaɪhaɪt hɔx]
[lə‿ʁwa la‿lwa la‿libɛʁte]

Noble Belgium, o mother dear,
To thee we stretch our hearts and arms,
For thee with blood to spill, o fatherland!
With onw cry we swear, thou shalt live!
Thou shalt live, so great and beautiful,
And thine invincible unity
Shall have for device immortal:
The King, the Law, the Liberty!

O dear Belgium, o holy land of fathers,
To thee our soul and heart devoted!
Accept our strength and blood in our veins,
Be our goal, in work and struggle.
Prosper, o land, in unbreakable unity;
Always be thyself and serve no other,
Faithful to the word that thou mayst speak boldly,
For King, for Freedom, for Law!

O dear country, o Belgium's soil,
To thee our heart, to thee our hands,
To thee our blood, o native land,
To thee we swear, o fatherland!
So gladly bloom in beauty full,
Into what freedom hath taught thee to be,
And evermore shall sing thy sons:
To Law, to King, to Freedom! Hail!

O dear Belgium, o holy land of the fathers,
To thee our soul and heart devoted!
For thee with blood to spill, o fatherland!
With one cry we swear, thou shalt live!
So gladly bloom in beauty full,
Into what freedom hath taught thee to be,
And evermore shall sing thy sons:
The King, the Law, the Liberty!
Faithful to the word that thou mayst speak boldly,
For King, for Freedom, for Law!
To Law, to King, to Freedom! Hail!
The King, the Law, the Liberty!

Original lyrics[]

The entire lyrics of all versions are in French.

First revision (1830)[]

French original English translation

Dignes enfants de la Belgique
Qu'un beau délire a soulevé,
À votre élan patriotique
De grand succès sont réservés.
Restons armés que rien ne change !
Gardons la même volonté,
Et nous verrons refleurir l'Orange
Sur l'arbre de la Liberté.

Aux cris de meurtre et de pillage,
Des méchants s'étaient rassemblés,
Mais votre énergique courage
Loin de vous les a refoulés.
Maintenant, purs de cette fange
Qui flétrissait votre cité,
Amis, il faut greffer l'Orange
Sur l'arbre de la Liberté.

Et toi, dans qui ton peuple espère,
Nassau, consacre enfin nos droits ;
Des Belges en restant le père
Tu seras l'exemple des rois.
Abjure un ministre étrange,
Rejette un nom trop détesté,
Et tu verras mûrir l'Orange
Sur l'arbre de la Liberté.

Mais malheur, si, de l'arbitraire
Protégeant les affreux projets,
Sur nous du canon sanguinaire,
Tu venais lancer les boulets !
Alors tout est fini, tout change,
Plus de pacte, plus de traité,
Et tu verras tomber l'Orange
De l'arbre de la Liberté.

Worthy children of Low Countries
Whom a fine passion has aroused,
To your patriotic fervour
Great successes lie in store.
Remain under arms, so that naught shall change!
Let us keep to the same will,
And we shall see Orange bloom anew
Upon the tree of Liberty.

To cries of murder and pillage,
The wicked had rallied around,
But your forceful courage
Has pushed them far away.
Now, pure of this filth
That was soiling your city,
Friends, we must graft Orange
Onto the tree of Liberty.

And you, in whom your people place their hopes,
Nassau, set firm our rights at last;
Remaining the father of the Belgians,
You'll be the example of kings.
Forswear a foreign minister,
Reject a too hated name,
And you will see Orange ripen
Upon the tree of Liberty.

But woe to you if, wilfully,
Pursuing dreadful plans,
You turn on us
The bloody cannon's fire!
Then all is over, all is changing;
No more pact, no more treaty,
And you shall see Orange fall
From the tree of Liberty.

Second revision (1830)[]

French original English translation

Qui l'aurait cru ? ...de l'arbitraire
Consacrant les affreux projets,
Sur nous de l'airain militaire
Un prince a lancé les boulets.
C'en est fait ! Oui, Belges, tout change,
Avec Nassau plus d'indigne traité !
La mitraille a brisé l'Orange
Sur l'arbre de la Liberté.

Trop généreuse en sa colère,
La Belgique, vengeant ses droits,
D'un roi, qu'elle appelait son père,
N'implorait que de justes lois.
Mais lui dans sa fureur étrange,
Par le canon que son fils a pointé,
Au sang belge a noyé l'Orange
Sous l'arbre de la Liberté.

Fiers brabançons, peuples de braves,
Qu'on voit combattre sans fléchir,
Du sceptre honteux des Bataves,
Tes balles sauront t'affranchir.
Sur Bruxelles, au pied de l'archange,
Ton saint drapeau pour jamais est planté,
Et, fier de verdir sans l'Orange,
Croît l'arbre de la Liberté.

Et vous, objets de nobles larmes,
Braves, morts au feu des cannons,
Avant que la patrie en armes
Ait pu connaître au moins vos noms,
Sous l'humble terre où l'on vous range,
Dormez, martyrs, bataillon indompté !
Dormez en paix, loin de l'Orange,
Sous l'arbre de la Liberté.

Who'd have believed it? ... wilfully
Pursuing dreadful plans,
On us, with cannon's brass,
A prince has opened fire.
It has been done! Yes, Belgians, all is changing;
No more unworthy treaty with Nassau!
Grapeshot has shattered Orange
Upon the tree of Liberty.

Too generous in her anger,
Belgium, avenging her rights,
From a king, whom she called her father,
Sought no more than just laws.
But he, in his unexpected fury,
By the cannon aimed by his son
Has drowned Orange in Belgian blood
Beneath the tree of Liberty.

O proud, brave people of Brabant,
Seen not to flinch amid the fight,
From the Batavians' shameful sceptre
Your bullets will set you free.
On Brussels, together with the archangel
Your holy flag is planted for ever;
And, proud to grow green without Orange,
Grows higher the tree of Liberty.

And you, objects of noble tears,
The brave, who died under cannon fire,
Before the Fatherland, under arms,
Could know at least your names,
Beneath the humble earth where you are laid,
Sleep, martyrs, unbroken battalion!
Sleep in peace, far from Orange,
Beneath the tree of Liberty.

Third revision (1860)[]

French original English translation

Après des siècles et des siècles d'esclavage,
Le Belge sortant du tombeau
A reconquis par sa force et son courage
Son nom, ses droits et son drapeau.
Et ta main souveraine et fière,
Désormais, peuple indompté,
Grava sur ta vieille bannière :
Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté !
Grava sur ta vieille bannière :
Le Roi, la Loi, la Liberté !

After century on century in slavery,
The Belgian, arising from the tomb,
Has reconquered through his strength and courage
His name, his rights and his flag.
And now, undaunted people,
Your hand, sovereign and proud,
Has inscribed on your ancient banner:
The King, and Law, and Liberty!
Inscribed on your ancient banner:
The King, and Law, and Liberty!

Trilingual version[]

A trilingual version of the anthem is also performed (see video).

References[]

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