Him haply slumbering on the Norway foam
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,
With fixed anchor on his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, and waits
The wished approach of morn.
I dare say you will be ready to think that these things are very unlikely, and I shall not much differ from you if you do. But no doubt some of these creatures must be very large, and much to be dreaded, or such things would never have been said of them.
