The Works of James Thomson/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 sung 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."