William Diaper

"I sing the Natives of the boundless Main, And tell what Kinds the wat'ry Depths contain. Thou, Mighty Prince, whom farthest Shores obey, Favour the Bard, and hear the humble Lay; While the Muse shows the liquid Worlds below, Where throng'd with busie Shoals the Waters flow; Their diff'ring Forms and Ways of Life relates; And sings their constant Loves, and constant Hates; What various Arts the finny Herds beguile, And each cold Secret of the Fishers Toil. Intrepid Souls! who pleasing Rest despise, To whirl in Eddies, and on Floods to rise; Who scorn the Safety of the calmer Shore, Drive thro' the working Foam, and ply the lab'ring Oar. Th' Abyss they fathom, search the doubtful Way, And through obscuring Depths pursue the Prey."

"The Hermit-Fish, unarm’d by Nature left, Helpless, and weak, grow strong by harmless Theft. Fearful they strowl, and look with panting Wish For the cast Crust of some new-cover’d Fish; Or such as empty lie, and deck the Shore, Whose first and rightful Owners are no more. They make glad Seizure of the vacant Room, And count the borrow’ d Shell their native Home; Screw their soft Limbs to fit the winding Case, And boldly herd with the Crustaceous Race. Careless they enter the first empty Cell; Oft find the plaited Wilk’s indented Shell; And oft the deep-dy’d Purple forc’d by Death To Stranger-Fish the painted Home bequeath. The Wilk’s etch’d Coat is most with Pleasure worn, Wide in Extent, and yet but lightly born. But when they growing more than fill the Place, And find themselves hard-pinch’d in scanty Space, Compell’d they quit the Roof they lov’d before, And busy search around the pebbly Shore, Till a commodious roomy Seat be found, Such as the larger Cockles living own’d. Oft cruel Wars contending Hermits wage, And long for the disputed Shell engage. The strongest will the doubtful Prize possess, Pow’r gives him Right, and All the Claim confess."

"Of Nature’s Chain how regular the Links! Matter by slow Gradations downward sinks; And intermediate Changes gently pass From lightsome Æther to the dullest Mass. Or climb by the same Steps from lumpish Clay To the bright Liquid, and the fine-spun Ray. Dissolving Earth in fluid Moisture glides, And Rocks transform’d flow down in silver Tides. Dilating Streams in vap’ry Columns rise, And sweating Seas will gild the distant Skies. Dispersing Clouds to nobler Forms aspire, Refine to Æther, or ferment to Fire. Things only differ as condense, or rare. Impurer Skies will thicken into Air; Air when too gross will falling Drops increase, And hang in lucid Pearls on weeping Trees. The glewy Substance, that no longer flows, Stagnates to Slime; and slimy Matter grows To earthly Mould; that hard’ning turns to Stone. So All is diff’rent, and yet All is One."

"Strange the Formation of the Eely Race, That know no Sex, yet love the close Embrace. Their folded Lengths they round each other twine, Twist am’rous Knots, and slimy Bodies joyn; Till the close Strife brings off a frothy Juice, The Seed that must the wriggling Kind produce. Regardless they their future Offspring leave, But porous Sands the spumy Drops receive. That genial Bed impregnates all the Heap, And little Eelets soon begin to creep. Half-Fish, Half-Slime they try their doubtful strength, And slowly trail along their wormy Length. What great Effects from slender Causes flow! Congers their Bulk to these Productions owe: The Forms which from the frothy Drop began, Stretch out immense, and eddy all the Main."

"The Lamprey, glowing with uncommon Fires, The Earth-bred Serpents purfled Curls admires. He no less kind makes amorous Returns, With equal Love the grateful Serpent burns. Fixt on the Joy he bounding shoots along, Erects his azure Crest, and darts his forky Tongue. Now his red Eye-balls glow with doubled Fires; Proudly he mounts upon his folded Spires, Displays his glossy Coat, and speckled Side, And meets in all his Charms the wat’ry Bride. But lest he cautless might his Consort harm, The gentle Lover will himself disarm, Spit out the venom’d Mass, and careful hide In cranny’d Rocks, far from the washing Tide; There leaves the Furies of his noxious Teeth, And putrid Bags, the pois’nous Fund of Death. His Mate he calls with softly hissing Sounds; She joyful hears, and from the Ocean bounds. Swift as the bearded Arrow’d Hast she flies, To own her Love, and meet the Serpent’s Joys. At her approach, no more the Lover bears Odious Delay, nor sounding Waters fears. Onward he moves on shining Volumes roll’d, The Foam all burning seems with wavy Gold. At length with equal Hast the Lovers meet, And strange Enjoyments slake their mutual Heat. She with wide-gaping Mouth the Spouse invites, Sucks in his Head, and feels unknown Delights. When full Fruition has asswag’d Desire, Well-pleas’d the Bride will to her Home retire. Tir’d with the Strife the Serpent hies to Land, And leaves his Prints on all the furrow’d Sand; With anxious Fear seeks the close private Cleft, Where he in Trust th’important Secret left. From the stain’d Rock he sucks the pois’nous Heaps, Feels his returning Strength, and hissing leaps; With brandish’d Tongue the distant Foe defies, And darts new Light’nings from his Blood-shot Eyes. But if some Swain mean while observing spies Where odious Spume, and venom’d Spittle lies, And while the Serpent wooes, from neighb’ring Seas The cleansing Waters to the Rock conveys; The Serpent comes, and finds his Treasure gone, Looks sorrowing round, and blames the faithless Stone; Disarm’d no more his wonted Pleasure takes, Curls in the Grass, or hisses in the Brakes. He creeps with Shame a tawdry speckled Worm, And prides no longer in his beauteous Form. On the same Rock with Head reclin’d he lies, And, where he lost his Arms, despairing dies."

"Then from the teeming Filth, and putrid Heap, Like Summer Grubs, the little Slime-Fish creep. Devour'd by All the passive Curse they own, Opprest by ev'ry Kind, but injure none. Harmless they live, nor murd'rous Hunger know, But to themselves their mutual Pleasures owe; Each other lick, and the close Kiss repeat; Thus loving thrive, and praise the luscious Treat. When they in Throngs a safe Retirement seek, Where pointed Rocks the rising Surges break, Or where calm Waters in their Bason sleep, While chalky Cliffs o’erlook the shaded Deep, The Seas all gilded o’er the Shoal betray, And shining Tracks inform their wand’ring Way. As when soft Snows, brought down by Western Gales, Silent descend and spread on all the Vales; Add to the Plains, and on the Mountains shine, While in chang’d Fields the starving Cattle pine; Nature bears all one Face, looks coldly bright, And mourns her lost Variety in White, Unlike themselves the Objects glare around, And with false Rays the dazzled Sight confound: So, where the Shoal appears, the changing Streams Lose their Sky-blew, and shine with silver Gleams."

"Far worse unhappy D[iape]r succeeds, He search’d for coral, but he gather’d weeds."