Classic Poem

All hail, my country! hail to thee,
Thou birthplace of the brave and free,
Thou ruler upon land and sea,
Britannia!

No thing of change, no mushroom state!
In wisdom thou canst work and wait,
Or wield the thunder-bolts of Fate,
Britannia!

Oh, nobly hast thou play'd thy part!
What struggles of the head and heart
Have gone to make thee what thou art,
Britannia!

Great mother of the mighty dead!
Sir Walter sang and Nelson bled
To weave a garland for thy head,
Britannia!

And Watt, the great magician, wrought,
And Shakespeare ranged the realms of thought,
And Newton soar'd, and Cromwell fought,
Britannia!

And Milton's high seraphic art,
And Bacon's learning, Burns's heart,
Are glories that shall ne'er depart,
Britannia!

These are the soul of thy renown,
The gems immortal in thy crown,
The suns that never shall go down,
Britannia!

Oh, still have faith in truth divine!
Still sacred be thy seal and sign,
And pow'r and glory shall be thine,