Our home is on the sea, boy,

  Our home is on the sea;

    When Nature gave

    The ocean-wave,

  She markt it for the Free.

Whatever storms befall, boy,

  Whatever storms befall,

    The island bark

    Is Freedom's ark,

  And floats her safe thro' all.

Behold yon sea of isles, boy,

  Behold yon sea of isles,

    Where every shore

    Is sparkling o'er

  With Beauty's richest smiles.

For us hath Freedom claimed, boy,

  For us hath Freedom claimed

    Those ocean-nests

    Where Valor rests

  His eagle wing untamed.

And shall the Moslem dare, boy,

  And shall the Moslem dare,

    While Grecian hand

    Can wield a brand,

  To plant his Crescent there?

No—by our fathers, no, boy,

  No, by the Cross, we show—

    From Maina's rills

    To Thracia's hills

  All Greece re-echoes "No!"

* * * * *

Like pleasant thoughts that o'er the mind

  A minute come and go again,

Even so by snatches in the wind,

  Was caught and lost that choral strain,

Now full, now faint upon the ear,

As the bark floated far or near.

At length when, lost, the closing note

  Had down the waters died along,

Forth from another fairy boat,

  Freighted with music, came this song—