The Masque of Alfred: "Rule Britannia" - Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Thomas Arne

When Britain first, at Heaven’s command

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.»

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.»