ENGLAND, EUROPE'S GLORY.
There is a land amidst the waves,
Whose sons are famed in story;
Who never were, or will be slaves,
Nor shrink from death and glory.
Then strike the harp and bid it swell,
Admiring worlds adore ye;
Shout blessings on the land we dwell,
To England, Europe's glory!
Whose sons are famed in story;
Who never were, or will be slaves,
Nor shrink from death and glory.
Then strike the harp and bid it swell,
Admiring worlds adore ye;
Shout blessings on the land we dwell,
To England, Europe's glory!
Blest land, beyond all lands afar,
Encircled by the waters;
With lion-hearted sons in war,
And beauty's peerless daughters.
Go ye, whose discontented hearts
Disdain the joys before ye;
Go seek a home in foreign parts,
Like England, Europe's glory.
Encircled by the waters;
With lion-hearted sons in war,
And beauty's peerless daughters.
Go ye, whose discontented hearts
Disdain the joys before ye;
Go seek a home in foreign parts,
Like England, Europe's glory.