William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. The Book of Georgian Verse. 1909.
Rule BritanniaJames Thomson (17001748)
W
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain.
‘Rule, Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.’
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.