The Land of the Brave and the
Free !
Hail Britain ! Ocean’s noblest born,1
Hail ! mistress of the waves !2
Whose sons are like their native oak,3
Whose daughters own no slaves !4
Surrounding nations turn to thee,5
Where plenty seems to smile !6
And wish their fate were like to thine,7
Sons of the sea-girt isle !8
But hark ! what sound is this that’s borne9
On every passing breeze—10
Like the distant tramp of armed men,11
Or the moan of swelling seas ?12
It is ! It is a people’s groan,13
Beneath the tyrant’s rod ;14
It is a people’s burning prayer,15
To peace and freedom’s God.16
Ah ! see them raise their shackled hands,17
To the bright—the beauteous sky ;18
Whose very splendour seems to make19
More dark their misery.20
They turn their eyes in agony21
On their fathers’ honoured graves ;22
Can they be children of such sires, 23
Yet bear the brand of slaves ?24
Despair is in their blood-shot eyes,25
Shame on their pallid brow ;26
Ah ! Britain ! where’s they boasted strength,27
And where thy “ glory” now ?28