Classic Poem

Ye mariners of Spain,
Bend strongly on your oars,
And bring my love again,—
For he lies among the Moors!

Ye galleys fairly built,
Like castles on the sea,
O, great will be your guilt,
If ye bring him not to me!

The wind is blowing strong,—
The breeze will aid your oars;
O, swiftly fly along,—
For he lies among the Moors!

The sweet breeze of the sea
Cools every cheek but mine;
Hot is its breath to me,
As I gaze upon the brine.

Lift up, lift up your sail,
And bend upon your oars;
O, lose not the fair gale,—
For he lies among the Moors!

It is a narrow strait,—
I see the blue hills over;
Your coming I'll await,
And thank you for my lover.

To Mary I will pray,
While ye bend upon your oars;
'Twill be a blessed day,
If ye fetch him from the Moors!