When Britain first, at heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, Arose arose from out the azure main, This was the charter, the charter of the land, And Guardian Angels sang this strain: Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke, More dreadful, dreadful from each foreign stroke, As the loud blast that tears the skies Serves but to root thy native oak. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; All their attempts to bend thee down All their, all their attempts to bend thee down Will but arouse, arouse thy generous flame, But work their woe and thy renown. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. The Muses, with freedom found, Shall to thy happy coasts repair. Shall to thy happy, happy coasts repair. Blest isle! with matchless, With matchless beauty crowned, And manly hearts to guard the fair. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves. Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves! Britons never, never, never will be slaves.