Sailor.O, true!—’mong fruitful isles
The jocund waters leaped when morn arose,
And fringed each billow’s snow-white pinnacle
With golden tissue. Waves that wildly roared
Through night, like fiends contending for their prey,
Now smiled serenely as a lawn in spring
Spangled with herbage ’mid the wasting snow;
And as our gallant vessel glided on
The joyful waters, like some amorous dame,
Kissed the bright prow in very wantonness,