My merry mates! to Neptune's praise,
Your voices high advance!
The wat'ry nymphs shall dance,
And Æolus shall whistle to your lays.
[Master.] Steersman, how stands the wind?
Steersman. Full north-north-east.
Master. What course?
Steersman. Full south-south-west.
Master. No worse, and blow so fair,
Then sink despair,
Come solace to the mind!
Ere night, we shall the haven find.
O happy days, who may contain
But swell with proud disdain
When seas are smooth,
Sails full, and all things please?
The Golden Mean that constant spirit bears!
In such extremes, that nor presumes nor fears.
Stay, merry mates, proud Neptune lowers!
Your voices all deplore you,
The nymphs standing weeping o'er you.
And Æolus and Iris bandy showers.
Master. Boatsman, haul in the boat!
Steersman. Hark! hark the ratlings!