THE FAIRY OF THE SEA.
There's a frigate on the waters, fit for battle, storm, or sun;
She dances like a life-boat, though she carries flag and gun.
I'm rich and blest while I can call that gallant craft my own;
I'm king of her, and Jove himself may keep his crown and throne.
She'll stem the billows mountain high, or skim the moonlit spray;
She'll take a blow and face a foe, like lion turn'd at bay;
Whate'er may try, she'll stand the test; the brave, the staunch, the free:
She bears a name of stainless fame, the "Fairy of the Sea."
She dances like a life-boat, though she carries flag and gun.
I'm rich and blest while I can call that gallant craft my own;
I'm king of her, and Jove himself may keep his crown and throne.
She'll stem the billows mountain high, or skim the moonlit spray;
She'll take a blow and face a foe, like lion turn'd at bay;
Whate'er may try, she'll stand the test; the brave, the staunch, the free:
She bears a name of stainless fame, the "Fairy of the Sea."
The gale is up, she feels the breath, the petrel is behind;
She travels through the white foam like an arrow on the wind.
Softly, softly,—hold her in—let her slacken in her pace;
She'll do the pilot's bidding with a greyhound's gentle grace.
The rocks are round her—what of that? she turns them like a swan;
The boiling breakers roar, but she is safely creeping on.
Hurrah! hurrah! she's clear again! More canvas! helm a-lee!
Away she bounds, like deer from hounds, the "Fairy of the Sea!"
She travels through the white foam like an arrow on the wind.
Softly, softly,—hold her in—let her slacken in her pace;
She'll do the pilot's bidding with a greyhound's gentle grace.
The rocks are round her—what of that? she turns them like a swan;
The boiling breakers roar, but she is safely creeping on.
Hurrah! hurrah! she's clear again! More canvas! helm a-lee!
Away she bounds, like deer from hounds, the "Fairy of the Sea!"
I've met with life's rough-weather squalls, and run on shoals ashore;
All pass'd me under scudding-sails, and friends were friends no more:
But when the storm-fiend did its worst, and blanch'd the firmest crew,
No timber yawn'd, no cordage broke; my bark, my bark was true.
We've lived together, closely bound, too long to lightly part;
I love her like a living thing; she's anchor'd in my heart:
But Death must come, and come he may; right welcome he shall be,
So that I sleep ten fathoms deep in the "Fairy of the Sea!"
All pass'd me under scudding-sails, and friends were friends no more:
But when the storm-fiend did its worst, and blanch'd the firmest crew,
No timber yawn'd, no cordage broke; my bark, my bark was true.
We've lived together, closely bound, too long to lightly part;
I love her like a living thing; she's anchor'd in my heart:
But Death must come, and come he may; right welcome he shall be,
So that I sleep ten fathoms deep in the "Fairy of the Sea!"
THIS IS THE HOUR FOR ME.
I'll sail upon the mighty main—but this is not the hour;
There's not enough of wind to move the bloom in lady's bower:
Oh! this is ne'er the time for me: our pretty bark would take
Her place upon the ocean like a rose-leaf on a lake.
There's not enough of wind to move the bloom in lady's bower:
Oh! this is ne'er the time for me: our pretty bark would take
Her place upon the ocean like a rose-leaf on a lake.
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