Rule, Britannia!

1

When Britain first, at Heaven's command

Arose from out the azure main;

This was the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain:

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

2

The nations, not so blest as thee,

Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;

While thou shalt flourish great and free,

The dread and envy of them all.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

3

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,

More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;

As the loud blast that tears the skies,

Serves but to root thy native oak.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

4

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:

All their attempts to bend thee down,

Will but arouse thy generous flame;

But work their woe, and thy renown.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

5

To thee belongs the rural reign;

Thy cities shall with commerce shine:

All thine shall be the subject main,

And every shore it circles thine.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

6

The Muses, still with freedom found,

Shall to thy happy coast repair;

Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,

And manly hearts to guard the fair.

"Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:

"Britons never will be slaves."

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