William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
An American ParodyFrom the Pennsylvania Gazette, October 19, 1774
“W
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.’”
Your isle too narrow for its bound,
We traced wild ocean’s trackless way,
And here a safe asylum found.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But rule us justly—not like slaves.
Now, swell’d with luxury and pride,
You pierce our peaceful free retreat,
And haste t’ enslave with giant stride.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But rule us justly—not like slaves.
All their attempts to pull thee down
Did but arouse thy generous flame,
And work their wo, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons then would ne’er be slaves.”
Your own example keep in view;
’Gainst tyranny be ever arm’d,
Though we our tyrant find in you.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But never make your children slaves.
We then with thee will firmly join
To make thee mistress of the main,
“And every shore it circles, thine.”
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But ne’er degrade your sons to slaves.
We’ll then our filial fondness prove:
Bound only by the welcome chains
Of duty, gratitude, and love.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But never make your children slaves.
Our vigour nerve thy feeble arm:
In vain thy foes shall spend their rage;
We’ll shield thee safe from every harm.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves,
But never make your children slaves.
We’ll labour, but we will be free—
Our growth and strength to thee impart,
And all our treasures bring to thee.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
We’re subjects, but we’re not your slaves.