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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.
"

Poem by James Thomson
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