‘Rule Britannia’
When Britain first, at Heaven’s command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain:
‘Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves.’
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’ etc.
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’ etc.
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’ etc.
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.
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