When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung the strain: _Rule, Britannia, rule the waves! For Britons never will be slaves._
The nations not so blest as thee Must in their turns to tyrants fall; Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and free, The dread and envy of them all. _Rule, Britannia!_ etc.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; As the loud blasts that tear the skies Serve but to root thy native oak. _Rule, Britannia!_ etc.
Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; All their attempts to bend thee down Will but arouse thy generous flame, And work their woe--but thy renown. _Rule, Britannia!_ etc.
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!_ etc.
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 leaves! For Britons never will be slaves._
What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, of yew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew-tree And the land where the yew-tree grows.
What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, a tough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks To the English flax And the land where the hemp was wove.
What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft, a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink all together To the gray goose feather, And the land where the gray goose flew.
What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--the yeoman-- The lads of dale and fell. Here's to you--and to you! To the hearts that are true And the land where the true hearts dwell.
When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food, It ennobled our hearts, and enriched our blood; Our soldiers were brave, and our courtiers were good. _O, the Roast Beef of old England, And O, the old English Roast Beef_!
But since we have learned from effeminate France To eat their ragouts, as well as to dance, We are fed up with nothing but vain complaisance. _O, the Roast Beef_, etc.