England, isle of free and brave, 
Circled, by the Atlantic wave l 
Though we seek the fairest land 
That the south wind ever fann'd ; 
Yet we cannot hope to see 
Homes so holy as in thee. 
As the tortoise turns its head 
Towards its native ocean-bed. 
Howsoever far it be 
From its own beloved sea, 
Thus, dear Albion, evermore 
Do we turn to seek thy shore ! 
