Fakeer of Jungheera 1.24
Our toil is done, our treasure won,
And now we homeward glide;
Our hearts are light, our hopes are bright
As this transparent tide.
Towards yon grey isle the waters flow,
Then brothers, brothers, bravely row.
The rising gale hath filled our sail,
It bends our slender mast;
And now the word is, like a bird,
We'll reach our home at last.
Towards yon grey isle the waters flow,
Then brothers, brothers, bravely row.
The moon on high adorns the sky,
Like us she onward fleets—
Towards home, my men ! and gladly then
Our presence pleasure greets.
And see ! our isle of rock is won—
Now brothers, brothers, bravely done.