And the ship in full sail, with a fortunate gale
Holds proudly on her way;
Where the nets are spread on the grass to dry,
And asleep, hard by, the fishermen lie,
Under the tent of the warm blue sky,
With the hushing wave on its golden floor
To sing their lullaby.
II.
Down on the shore, on the stormy shore!
Beset by a growling sea,