Come sing, Come sing, of the great Sea-King,
And the fame that now hangs o'er him,
Who once did sweep o'er the vanquish'd deep,
And drove the world before him!
His deck was a throne, on the ocean lone,
And the sea was his park of pleasure,
Where he scattered in fear the human deer,
And rested,--when he had leisure!
Come,--shout and sing
Of the great Sea-King,
And ride in the track he rode in!
He sits at the head
Of the mighty dead,
On the red right hand of Odin!
He sprang, from birth, like a God on earth,
And soared on his victor pinions,
And he traversed the sea, as the eagles flee,
When they gaze on their blue dominions.
His whole earth life was a conquering strife,
And he lived till his beard grew hoary,
And he died at last, by his blood-red mast,
And now--he is lost in glory!
So,--shout and sing, &c.
[Decoration]
_A SERENADE._