This text comes from A First Series of Hymns and Songs, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
Swallow, that on rapid wing
Sweep'st along in sportive ring,
Here and there, and low and high,
Chasing keen the painted fly;
Swallow, let me fly with thee.
First from England's southern shore
'Cross the Channel we would soar;
Then with daring flight advance
To the plains of uprightly France:—
Swallow, let me fly with thee.
Where on verdant banks of Loire
Playful sport the feather'd choir,
Or where Bourdeaux skirts the side
Of Garonne's majestic tide,
I would skim away with thee.
Next o'er tow'ring Pyrenees,
Myrtb groves and orange-trees,
To the hilly wild domain,
Where are fed the flocks of Spain,
I would skim away with thee.
Then where figs and olives grow,
Mules plod surely on and slow;
Steering thus for many a day,
Southward still our course away,
Swallow, I would fly with thee.
Past Gibraltar's rocky steep,
Dashing o'er the foaming deep;
Then our roving journey o'er,
On the sultry Afric's shore,
Swallow, I would rest with thee.
But when spring's soft gales shall play
Once more o'er our trackless way,
Round and round, in sportive ring,
Joyously on home-bound wing,
Swallow, I would fly with thee.