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 sang 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, 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, 
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, 
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; 
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." 

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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Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never shall be slaves.

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