Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/248



bark is on the waters deep, our bright blade’s in our hand, Our birthright is the ocean vast—we scorn the girdled land; And the hollow wind is our music brave, and none can bolder be Than the hoarse-tongued tempest raving o’er a proud and swelling sea!

Our bark is dancing on the waves, its tall masts quivering bend Before the gale, which hails us now with the hollo of a friend ; And its prow is sheering merrily the upcurled billow’s foam, While our hearts, with throbbing gladness, cheer old Ocean as our home!