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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! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!
The haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down.
Will but arise, arise thy gen’rous flame
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!
To thee belongs the rural reign.
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be, shall be the subject main,
And ev’ry shore, it circles thine.
Rule Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!
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