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| HIGH on the rock that fronts the sea | |
| Stands alone our fortress key, | |
| Lady of the southern main, | |
| Lady, too, of stately Spain. | |
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| Look which way her eye she bends, | 5 |
| Where’er she will her sway extends. | |
| Free on air her banner thrown, | |
| Half the world it calls its own. | |
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| Let her look upon the strand,— | |
| Never was more lovely land: | 10 |
| Had her rule dominion there, | |
| It were free as it is fair. | |
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| Let her look across the waves, | |
| They are but her noblest slaves; | |
| Sweeping north or south, they still | 15 |
| Bear around her wealth and will. | |
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| Siege and strife these walls have borne, | |
| By the red artillery torn; | |
| Human life has poured its tide | |
| In the galleries at her side. | 20 |
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| But the flag that o’er her blows, | |
| Rival nor successor knows, | |
| Lonely on the land and sea | |
| Where it has been, it will be. | |
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| Safe upon her sea-beat rock, | 25 |
| She might brave an army’s shock: | |
| For the British banner keeps | |
| Safe the fortress where it sweeps. | |
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