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| | What have we here? a man or a fish? a fish; he smells like a fish: a very ancient and fish-like smell!—A strange fish!—I shall laugh myself to death at this PUPPY-HEADED> monster—a most scurvy monster! SHAKSPEARE. |
ART 1 thou indeed, what thou would’st seem to be, | |
| Imprison’d in that curious box of thine, | |
| A veritable daughter of the sea, | |
| Like Aphrodité born in foam and brine? | |
| Though, I must say, were such the queen of Love, | 5 |
| I marvel greatly at the taste of Jove. | |
| |
| But thou, perhaps, some ages since, wast fair, | |
| The envy of all mermaids far around; | |
| Then that bald pate of thine with azure hair, | |
| That undulated with the waves, was crown’d; | 10 |
| Thou art, howe’er, a mermaid’s mummy now, | |
| And with a wig should’st hide that wrinkled brow. | |
| |
| Hast thou e’er sported in the coral bowers, | |
| That deep beneath the Indian waters grow, | |
| Where gems bud forth, and wave the sea-green flowers, | 15 |
| With graceful motion, as the currents flow? | |
| For there the tempests have no power, that sweep | |
| With madness o’er the surface of the deep. | |
| |
| Perchance ’t was thy delight, in former times, | |
| To rest by moon-light on the ocean-rocks, | 20 |
| And to the hum of waters chant thy rhymes, | |
| Or with those fingers curl thy humid locks; | |
| Then wo to any luckless bark for aye, | |
| Whose pilot listen’d to thy treacherous lay. | |
| |
| Is it not glorious to behold the gems, | 25 |
| That shine like stars in ocean’s crystal caves?— | |
| The groves, where emeralds bud on amber stems, | |
| Moving harmonious with the rocking waves?— | |
| And all the gorgeous mysteries, that sleep | |
| Beneath the endless waters of the deep? | 30 |
| |
| There, we may guess, the Nereids delight | |
| To build their garnish’d grottoes, fair to see, | |
| With domes of living diamonds, that as bright | |
| Shine out, as suns in the immensity | |
| Of heaven, while all their ruby pavements blush, | 35 |
| As through their clefts the shouting waters rush | |
| |
| There shells of pleasant forms and nameless hues | |
| To alabaster columns cling; and there | |
| Such flowers spring up, as never drank the dews, | |
| Nor breathed the freshness of the upper air; | 40 |
| But fairer, lovelier far, their tints that glow | |
| On the pure sand, like rainbow hues on snow. | |
| |
| And mighty Argosies, that moved in pride, | |
| Like living things, along the troubled deep, | |
| Lie many a fathom now beneath the tide; | 45 |
| And gallant chiefs, and fearless sailors sleep, | |
| In kingly state, on beds of pearl and gold, | |
| Who for a biscuit had their birthrights sold. | |
| |
| Oh! could’st thou tell,—if thou indeed hast seen, | |
| “For in those eyes there is no speculation,”— | 50 |
| The wonders hid beneath the ocean green, | |
| T’ would mad the knowing ones with admiration, | |
| And many a learned bachelor would swear | |
| That thou, in spite of all thy teeth, art fair! | |
| |
| But why should I ask questions of a thing, | 55 |
| That hears not, sees not, knows not,—only grins? | |
| And grin you may, so long as quarters ring, | |
| For, says the adage, “let him laugh that wins! | |
| Being a siren, well may you entice | |
| The unwary once,—you cannot cheat me twice. | 60 |
| |
| Would I possess’d a charm to ope the cell | |
| Of glass, when thou art fasten’d like a reel | |
| Within a bottle: I could never tell | |
| How this got in; but could my fingers feel | |
| That scaly skin of thine, there ’s “a shrewd doubt” | 65 |
| ’T would be no puzzle why you ’ll not come out. | |
| |
| But go in peace, thou thing of “shreds and patches”— | |
| Go not, howe’er, where Doctor Mitchill is; | |
| For he will mangle thee, if he but catches | |
| A glimpse of thy uncouth and monkey phiz, | 70 |
| And then will swear, in spite of thy long tail, | |
| Thou art no more a fish than was his whale! | |
