Saturday night was the Last Night of the Proms. This is a more than 100-year-old tradition of closing the BBC Proms with an evening of some edgy new music, followed by patriotic songs of yesteryear, closed by the National Anthem.
As a transplanted USan, I can think of no national event in America that rivals the Last Night of the Proms. Imagine the Royal Albert Hall full of a mixture of revelers and people in formal evening dress. Many of them carry flags on poles to be waved during the last few pieces of the night: Union Flags, of course, but flags of nations and regions all over the world: English, Scottish, Ulster, Welsh, Pink Union Flags (for the gay contingent), Australian, New Zealand, Cornish, even a couple of US and European Union flags were seen. No vuvuzelas, thank God, but a few air horns that might be let off at suitable intervals. Then the (American) soprano, dressed as Britannia in a headdress and magnificent gown, emerges and sings Rule, Britannia, while the (Czech) conductor wields the baton. Unfortunately, she only sings the first two verses; I here reproduce all six verses of the original:
When Britain first, at Heaven’s command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain:
“Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
“Britons never will be slaves.”
The nations, not so blest as thee,
Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful, from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
Thee haughty tyrants ne’er shall tame:
All their attempts to bend thee down,
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine:
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves.
The Muses, still with freedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
Blest Isle! With matchless beauty crown’d,
And manly hearts to guard the fair.
Rule, Britannia! rule the waves:
Britons never will be slaves. ”
No one today would hold that any of this patriotic song any longer has validity in our current national life. We no longer rule the waves: we are about to cancel a