———
The breeze is blowing fresh and strong;
The rocking shallop chafes its chain,
And the billows are breaking in swells of song,
That call me forth to the deep again:
A fiery charger paws the sand;
A hound looks up with watching eye,
To scour the forest and valley land,
And bay with the winds on the mountain high!
Let horns be heard in the gray ravine,