| WHEN Britain first at Heaven's command | |
| Arose from out the azure main, | |
| This was the charter of her land, | |
| And guardian angels sung the strain: | |
| Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves! | 5 |
| Britons never shall be slaves! | |
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| The nations not so blest as thee | |
| Must in their turn to tyrants fall, | |
| Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free | |
| The dread and envy of them all. | 10 |
| |
| 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. | |
| |
| Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; | 15 |
| All their attempts to bend thee down | |
| Will but arouse thy generous flame, | |
| And work their woe and thy renown. | |
| |
| To thee belongs the rural reign; | |
| Thy cities shall with commerce shine; | 20 |
| All thine shall be the subject main, | |
| And every shore it circles thine! | |
| |
| The Muses, still with Freedom found, | |
| Shall to thy happy coast repair; | |
| Blest Isle, with matchless beauty crown'd | 25 |
| And manly hearts to guard the fair:— | |
| Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves! | |
| Britons never shall be slaves! | |
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