Rule Britannia! With Variations

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 crowned,  And manly hearts to guard the fair.
"Rule,

Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves.