The myriad fins swim on; a lonely waste, where the lost one drops behind.
Strange fish! All the live-long day, they were there by our side; and at night still tarried and shone; more crystal and scaly in the pale moonbeams, than in the golden glare of the sun.
How prettily they swim; all silver life; darting hither and thither between their long ranks, and touching their noses, and scraping acquaintance.

No mourning they wear for the Boneeta left far astern; nor for those so cruelly killed by Samoa.

No, no; all is glee, fishy glee, and frolicking fun; light hearts and light fins; gay backs and gay spirits .-- Swim away, swim away! my merry fins all.

Let us roam the flood; let us follow this monster fish with the barnacled sides; this strange-looking fish, so high out of water; that goes without fins.

What fish can it be?
What rippling is that?
Dost hear the great monster breathe?
Why, 'tis sharp at both ends; a tail either way; nor eyes has it any, nor mouth.