What tropic birds swifter can move;
Who, cruel, shall hold his career,
That returns to the nest of his love?
Hoist ev’ry sail to the breeze,
Come, shipmates, and join in the song;
Let’s drink, while our ship cuts the seas,
To the gale that may drive her along.
I’ve reached, spite of tempests, the port,
Now I’ll fly to the arms of my love;
And, rather than reef I will court,