And never conceiving their chief so swiftly will deal him a floorer,
Opens wide, to receive them at once, his linguis vibrantibus ora;
But just as he’s licking his lips, and gladly preparing to taste ’em,
Straight into his eyeball the skipper stridentem conjicit hastam.
Soon as he feels in his eyeball the lance, growing mightily sulky,
At ’em he comes in a rage ore minax, linguâque trisulcâ.
“Starn all!” cry the sailors at once, for they think he has certainly caught ’em;
Præsentemque viris intentant omnia mortem.
But the bold skipper exclaims, “O terque quaterque beati!
Now, with a will, dare viam, when I want you, be only parati;