This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-Paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renown├Ęd for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry
As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son--
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world . . .
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