"Sail-fish in secret, silent deeps reside, In shape and nature to the preke[75] allied; Close in their concave shells their bodies wrap, Avoid the waves and every storm escape. But not to mirksome depths alone confined; When pleasing calms have stilled the sighing wind, Curious to know what seas above contain, They leave the dark recesses of the main; Now, wanton, to the changing surface haste, View clearer skies, and the pure welkin taste. But slow they, cautious, rise, and, prudent, fear The upper region of the watery sphere; Backward they mount, and as the stream o'erflows, Their convex shells to pressing floods oppose. Conscious, they know that, should they forward move, O'erwhelming waves would sink them from above, Fill the void space, and with the rushing weight, Force down th' inconstants to their former seat. When, first arrived, they feel the stronger blast, They lie supine and skim the liquid waste. The natural barks out-do all human art When skilful floaters play the sailor's part. Two feet they upward raise, and steady keep; These are the masts and rigging of the ship: A membrane stretch'd between supplies the sail, Bends from the masts, and swells before the gale. Two other feet hang paddling on each side, And serve for oars to row and helm to guide. 'Tis thus they sail, pleased with the wanton game, The fish, the sailor, and the ship, the same. But when the swimmers dread some dangers near The sportive pleasure yields to stronger fear. No more they, wanton, drive before the blasts, But strike the sails, and bring down all the masts; The rolling waves their sinking shells o'erflow, And dash them down again to sands below." [75] The octopus. Montgomery also thus exquisitely paraphrases the same idea in his 'Pelican Island':-- "Light as a flake of foam upon the wind, Keel upwards, from the deep emerged a shell, Shaped like the moon ere half her orb is filled. Fraught with young life, it righted as it rose, And moved at will along the yielding water. The native pilot of this little bark Put out a tier of oars on either side, Spread to the wafting breeze a twofold sail, And mounted up, and glided down, the billows In happy freedom, pleased to feel the air, And wander in the luxury of light." Byron mentions the Nautilus in his 'Mutiny of the Bounty' as follows:-- "The tender Nautilus, who steers his prow, The sea-born sailor of his shell canoe, The ocean Mab--the fairy of the sea, Seems far less fragile, and alas! more free. He, when the lightning-winged tornadoes sweep The surge, is safe: his port is in the deep; And triumphs o'er the armadas of mankind Which shake the world, yet crumble in the wind."