Lyrics: James Thomson
Music: Thomas Arne
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 will be slaves!
The nations not so blest as thee,
Must in their turn, to tyrants fall,
(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 will be slaves!
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
(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 will be slaves!
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
(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 will be slaves!
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
(Shall to thy happy coast repair;)
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown'd,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule. Britannia! Britannia rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves!
Rule. Britannia! Britannia rule the waves,
Britons never will be slaves!