| |
| 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: | 5 |
| 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. | 10 |
| Rule, Britannia, rule the waves: | |
| Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
| Still more majestic shalt thou rise, | |
| More dreadful from each foreign stroke: | |
| As the loud blast that tears the skies | 15 |
| Serves but to root thy native oak. | |
| Rule, Britannia, rule the waves: | |
| Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
| Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame: | |
| All their attempts to bend thee down | 20 |
| Will but arouse thy generous flame— | |
| But work their woe, and thy renown. | |
| Rule, Britannia, rule the waves: | |
| Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
| To thee belongs the rural reign; | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| |
| The Muses, still with freedom found, | |
| Shall to thy happy coast repair. | |
| Blest isle! with matchless beauty crowned, | |
| And manly hearts to guard the fair. | |
| Rule Britannia, rule the waves: | 35 |
| Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
