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
An asylum in the jaws of Fate!

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