They make me want to hit the water,

these lovely lines describing Beowulf's return to Sweden (Heaney's translation):

Then the keel plunged

and shook in the sea; and they sailed from Denmark.
Right away the mast was rigged with its sea-shawl;
sail-ropes were tightened, timbers drummed
and stiff winds kept the wave-crosser
skimming ahead; as she heaved forward,
her foamy neck was fleet and buoyant,
a lapped prow loping over currents,
until finally the Geats caught sight of coastline
and familiar cliffs. The keel reared up,
wind lifted it home, it hit on the land.