Contemplations

Look how the wantons frisk to tast the air,

Then to the colder bottome streight they dive,

Eftsoon to Neptun’s glassy Hall repair

To see what trade they, great ones, there do drive,

Who forrage o’re the spacious sea-green field,

And take the trembling prey before it yield,

Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins their shield.