Fools drove him with goads and whips
Down to the sea where there were ships
And he was forced at the risk of his neck
To find a refuge on a stranger's deck.

Then that ship sailed away
Far from the land that day,
He watched the sky, and mourned to be
In such a dread captivity.

But from a rift of flying cloud
Burst a tempest quick and loud;
A burning bolt struck the strange deck
Bringing the ship to sudden wreck.

So the poor slave swam free
Over a quick calmed sea:
On a new coast-line he was thrown,
And claimed a virgin island for his own.

In the quiet island was such pleasure,
In solitude he found such treasure,
He took rude tools
And carved a splendid monument to fools.