Rule, Britannia
Thomas Augustine Arne (1710-1778)

When Britain first, at heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
Arose, arose, arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter, the charter of the land,
And guardian Angels sang this strain:

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

The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must in their turn, to tyrants fall,
Must in their turn, must in their turn, to tyrants fall,
While thou shalt flourish, shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.

Rule Britannia!
Britannia rule the waves.
Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.
 
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke,
More dreadful, more dreadful from each foreign stroke
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.

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

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down,
All their attempts, all their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
But work their woe and thy renown.

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

To thee belongs the rural reign,
Thy cities shall with commerce shine
Thy cities shall, thy cities shall with commerce shine
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.

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

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