RULE BRITANNIA!

Another Last Night of the Proms stalwart, which so annoys the politically-correct. Good.

When Britain first, at Heaven's command

Arose from out the azure main;

This was the charter, the charter of the land,

And guardian angels sang this strain:

Chorus

Rule Britannia! Britannia rules the waves

Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.

The nations, not so blest as thee

Must, in their turns to tyrants fall

While thou shalt flourish, shalt flourish great and free

The dread and envy of them all.

(Chorus)

Still more majestic shalt thou rise

More dreadful from each foreign stroke

As the loud blast, the blast that tears the skies

Serves but to root thy native oak.

(Chorus)

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame

All their attempts to bend thee down

Will but arouse, arouse thy generous flame

But work their woe, and thy renown.

(Chorus)

To thee belongs the rural reign

Thy cities shall with commerce shine

Thy ci-ties shall with commerce shine

All thine shall be, shall be the subject main

And every shore it circles thine.

(Chorus)

The Muses, still with freedom found

Shall to thy happy coast repair

Blest isle with matchless, with matchless beauty crowned

And manly hearts to guard the fair.

(Chorus)

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