RULE BRITANNIA - Francis Thompson Poems

 
 

Poems » francis thompson » rule britannia

RULE BRITANNIA

  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 crown'd,
    And manly hearts to guard the fair.
      "Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
      Britons never will be slaves."