Victory Britannia -- From Runnamede, Final Lines - Poem by John Logan
Rapt into heaven,
High visions pass before the holy man;
His tranced accent is the voice divine.
The day of Britain now begins to dawn,
Red in its rise. Heaven opens: and behold
The hours of glory and the morn of men
Ascending o'er the globe. An era new,
The last of ages now begins to roll,
The reign of liberty. The goddess comes
Down from high heaven; her garment dyed in blood;
The sword refulgent in her lifted hand:
She looks; and fixes, never to remove,
Her throne and sceptre in Britannia's isle.
O bless'd of heaven, who shall behold the day
Of Britain shine!
The Queen of isles behold,
Sitting sublime upon her rocky throne,
The region of the storms! She stretches forth
In her right hand the sceptre of the seas,
And in her left the balance of the earth.
The guardian of the globe, she gives the law:
She calls the winds, the winds obey her call,
And bear the thunder of her power, to burst
O'er the devoted lands, and carry fate
To Kings, to nations, and the subject world.
Above the Grecian or the Roman name
Unlike the great destroyers of the globe,
She fights and conquers in fair freedom's cause.
Her song of victory the nations sing:
Her triumphs are triumphs of mankind.
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