Luyện nghe bài hát Rule Britannia

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, the waves!
Britons never, never, never be slaves.

When first, at heaven's command,
from out the azure main,
This was the of the land,
And Guardian Angels sang strain:

The nations not so blest as
Must, in their turn, to fall,
thou shalt flourish great and free:
The dread and envy of all.

Still majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each stroke,
As the loud blast tears the skies
but to root thy native oak.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall
All their to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy flame,
But work woe and thy renown.

To thee belongs the rural
Thy shall with commerce shine;
All thine be the subject main,
And shore it circles, thine.

The Muses, still with found,
Shall to thy coasts repair.
Blest isle! with beauty crowned,
And hearts to guard the fair.

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, the waves!
Britons never, never, shall be slaves.