And watch the restless waters
Turned into solid stone,
Like granite, and like porphyry,
In wild confusion thrown?
Or do ye bear a battle-flag,
And thunder at your side,
So that the foreign foe may quail,
Where'er your navies ride?
I cannot tell what enterprise
Might haunt that childish crew—
What, with their little fairy ships,
It was their dream to do:
But be what will the enterprise,
That carries men afar,
Through danger, death, through calm and storm,
For commerce, science, war;
They could not go more heart in hand,
Their purpose to fulfil,
Than launched those boyish mariners
Their fleet upon the rill.
The sunbeam glittered on the waves,
And danced within their eyes:
Whose bark shall reach yon willow first,
His is the victor's prize.
