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The fiery steeds are foaming, Sweeps by the trumpet blast, I hear a long and pealing shout, The soldier bands are past.

The sunshine of the morning Is abroad upon the sea, And mistress of the wave and wind Yon vessel seems to be. Like the pine-tree of the forest Her tall mast heaven-ward springs, Her white sails bear her onwards Like the eagle's rushing wings. That deck is nobly laden, For gallant hearts are there; What danger is they would not face, The deed they would not dare?