A little, round, fat, oily man of God

When Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: 'Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never, never, never shall be slaves.'

Whoe'er amidst the sons Of reason, valour, liberty, and virtue Displays distinguish'd merit, is a noble Of Nature's own creating.

At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe: With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er, Each smooth as those that mutually deceive, And for their falsehood each despising each.

O Sophonisba! Sophonisba, O!

Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And, when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between and bid us part?

These as they change, Almighty Father! these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of Thee.