Arma virumque cano, qui first in Monongahela Tarnally squampushed the sarpent, mittens horrentia tella. Musa, look sharp with your Banjo! I guess to relate this event, I Shall need all the aid you can give; so nunc aspirate canenti. Mighty slick were the vessels progressing, Jactata per æquora ventis, But the brow of the skipper was sad, cum solicitudine mentis; For whales had been scarce in those parts, and the skipper, so long as he’d known her, Ne’er had gathered less oil in a cruise to gladden the heart of her owner. “Darn the whales,” cries the skipper at length, “with a telescope forte videbo Aut pisces, aut terras.” While speaking, just two or three points on the lea bow, He saw coming towards them as fast as though to a combat ’twould tempt ’em, A monstrum horrendum informe (qui lumen was shortly ademptum). On the taffrail up jumps in a hurry, dux fortis, and seizing a trumpet, Blows a blast that would waken the dead, mare turbat et aera rumpit— “Tumble up all you lubbers,” he cries, “tumble up, for careering before us Is the real old sea sarpent himself, cristis maculisque decorus.” “Consarn it,” cried one of the sailors, “if e’er we provoke him he’ll kill us, He’ll certainly chaw up hos morsu, et longis, implexibus illos.” Loud laughs the bold skipper, and quick premit alto corde dolorem; (If he does feel like running, he knows it won’t do to betray it before ’em). “O socii”, inquit. “I’m sartin you’re not the fellers to funk, or Shrink from the durem certamen, whose fathers fit bravely at Bunker You, who have waged with the bears, and the buffalo, prœlia dura, Down to the freshets, and licks of our own free enlightened Missourer; You could whip your own weight, catulus sævis sine telo, Get your eyes skinned in a twinkling, et ponite tela phæsello!” Talia voce refert, curisque ingentibus æger, Marshals his cute little band, now panting their foes to beleaguer Swiftly they lower the boats, and swiftly each man at the oar is, Excipe Britanni timidi duo, virque coloris.