Come, Britannia shake thy lance

Come, Britannia shake thy lance, Plume thyself in martial pride; Haste! thy glorious shield advance, Take again thy gallant stride. Think, oh think, on all thy noble story, Rouse thee to thy ancient glory.

Hasten, hasten, hence away, All thy martial ardour show; Clad in terrible array, Thou shalt vanquish every foe. Think, oh think. &c, &c.