Page:Songs of England vol 01.djvu/207

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

3.

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! &c.

4.

Thee, haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame,
To work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! &c.

5.

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! &c.

5.

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! &c.