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About the
Shark, phlegmatical one,
Pale sot of the Maldive sea,
The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim,
How
alert in attendance be.
From his saw-pit of mouth,
from his charnel of maw,
They have nothing of harm to
dread,
But liquidly glide on his ghastly flank
Or
before his Gorgonian head;
Or lurk in the port of
serrated teeth
In white triple tiers of glittering
gates,
And there find a haven when peril's abroad,
And asylum in jaws of the Fates!
They are friends;
and friendly they guide him to prey,
Yet never
partake of the treat -
Eyes and brains to the dotard
lethargic and dull,
Pale ravener of horrible meat
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