| |
From “Alfred,” Act II. Sc. 5.
WHEN Britain first, at Heaven’s command, | |
| Arose from out the azure main, | |
| This was the charter of the land, | |
| And guardian angels sung the strain: | |
| Rule, Britannia, rule the waves! | 5 |
| For Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
| The nations not so blest as thee | |
| Must in their turns to tyrants fall; | |
| Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free, | |
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule, Britannia! etc. | 10 |
| |
| Still more majestic shalt thou rise, | |
| More dreadful from each foreign stroke; | |
| As the loud blasts that tear the skies | |
Serve but to root thy native oak.
Rule, Britannia! etc. | |
| |
| Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame; | 15 |
| All their attempts to bend thee down | |
| Will but arouse thy generous flame, | |
And work their woe—but thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! etc. | |
| |
| To thee belongs the rural reign; | |
| Thy cities shall with commerce shine; | 20 |
| All thine shall be the subject main, | |
And every shore it circles thine.
Rule, Britannia! etc. | |
| |
| The Muses, still with Freedom found, | |
| Shall to thy happy coast repair; | |
| Blest Isle! with matchless beauty crowned, | 25 |
| And manly hearts to guard the fair. | |
| Rule, Britannia, rule the leaves! | |
| For Britons never will be slaves. | |
| |
