Those splendours, but the harpooner’s eyes
To strike his victim call!
Ambition, mark the Dolphin’s close—
To dangerous heights he only rose
To find the heavier fall!
Mark, too, ye witty, rich, and gay,
How quick those sportive fins could play,
How gay, how rich was he!
He moves no more—he’s cold to touch—
He’s dull—dark—dead! The Dolphin’s such,