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.
James Thomson
Other author posts
A Man Perishing in the Snow From Whence Reflections are Raised on the Miseries of Life
As thus the snows arise; and foul and fierce, All winter drives along the darken'd air; In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend, Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes,
Waterfall
Smooth to the shelving brink a copious Rolls fair and placid: where collected all, In one impetuous torrent down the It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round
To Amanda - Come Dear Amanda Quit The Town
Come, dear Amanda, quit the town, And to the rural hamlets fly; Behold the wintry storms are gone;
On Happiness
Warm'd by the summer sun's meridian ray, As underneath a spreading oak I lay Contemplating the mighty load of woe, In search of bliss that mortals undergo, Who, while they think they happiness enjoy,
