I.
When Britain first, at Heaven's command,
Arose to quell the pride of Rome,
This was the spirit of the land
Resounding from each freeman's home,--
Rise, Britannia! Britannia, rout these knaves!
Britons never shall be slaves.

II.
The Nations, not so blest as thou,
In Papal darkness blindly grope,
But never will thy starry brow
Bow down to idols or the Pope!
Rise, Britannia! Britannia rout these knaves!
Britons never shall be slaves.

III.
Against our weal though traitors try
To aim their foul but feeble stroke,
They'll find the Lion standing by
To guard our glorious British oak!
Rise, Britannia! Britannia, rout these knaves!
Britons never shall be slaves.