François, Martyr Hero

Let me sing the song of a hero
As Thuroldus once sang
Of Roland at Roncevaux,
As other have vaunted the deeds of their great,
Gilgamesh and Achilles of whom epics relate,
The Iliad of Homer with its warriors at Troy,
Ariostes’ saga that all may enjoy,
The chansons de gestes of bold knights of old France
Romantically written in sunny Provence.
These poems extolled great strength and great feats
In times of war and of love, to which the heart beats.
He was worthy of such, was this child of the Cedars,
Now killed by the cunning of veritable traitors,
After triumph at the camp in Lebanon’s North
Worthy of Hannibal when he went forth,
This sparkling morn near the end of the year
When colors of autumn bedecked the fresh air,
When the stars had just faded from the clear vault
With the gleaming lights of the city in thrall,
A hymn of praise in a world new awake,
Bustling with people who go to their work,
A world full of life, this hopeful December,
When city and nature unite in their splendor,
A hymn of praise to the Creator divine
From an East full of mystery, holy, sublime.
Though oft faced with death under many a face
Never was lost his singular grace;
Smiling boldly at life with courage of heart
Fought bravely François in every part.
Straightway he ran to where duty did call,
To front-line of battle or sheer fortress wall,
Like Adon of old who rushed to the height
Where the wild boar of Death met him in fight.
But this day an enemy new is engaged
More murd’rous now than the foul beast enraged.
Soon after the dawn an infernal machine
Rent the morning that started serene.
This new Adonis on whom victory smiled
Was brought to his death by a weapon reviled.
Cries rent the air while sirens were sounded
Of vehicles taking the dead and the wounded,
With groans from the ground and the wails from around
From souls deep distressed by the horror they found.
Hell had wide opened its portals of fire
As Satan sent death with an enmity dire.
What ghastly vengeance on Lebanon fair
Wreaked by monsters with hatred their care.
With fists clenched in rage and tears in their eyes
The people demand what means this device.
He was handsome and young and well on the way
To honor and glory gained in the fray,
Full of ideals with a mind sharp and keen
Devoted brave soldier if ever there’d been;
This hero was born in Lebanon’s South,
Land trod by Jesus and blessed by his mouth.
The Army he served with a heart pure and true,
Put his life on its altar, a career to pursue.
Many years he had served and bore the brunt
Defending his land on a new battle front.
Fanatical fighters had come from abroad,
He saved the nation from the terrible horde.
In the fire of the battle he mastered the field
Commanding the Army, a true sword to wield.
The camp on Cold River was a new Stalingrad,
A mountain of rubble with fights hand-to-hand.
Master of tactics, he was loved by his men
And due for promotion as commander supreme.
To heaven he rose on a chariot of light,
To stars in their courses aglow in the night.
With all who died fighting an army he’ll make
Men bold like he was for Lebanon’s sake.
Their courage has shone through the darkening shroud,
An epic of men who to honor are vowed.
Their names are writ large in the sky up above,
For their lives given up in an offering of love.
In these winter days we see nature does mourn
But the colors of Lebanon by them are borne.
The eagle that soared is not dead in his nest,
This giant a martyr for all he loved best,
For the land of great saints who took up the Cross,
The land that in him has suffered great loss.
This land has been victim of terrible crimes
Being repeated in these modern times;
Massacres, plunder, they come in a flood
While nations look on at the spilling of blood.
Hordes have come in, a foul murderous clan
To soil this pure land that gave learning to man.
Land praised by the prophets inspired from above,
To which Christ and Our Lady and saints gave their love.
A message of hope may you ever remain,
Giving man hope beyond death, beyond pain.

French by Joseph Matar – Translation: K.J. Mortimer