Parts aptly form'd preserve the
From stormy Rage, and Hunger's pining Wish;
Long Fibres num'rous branch around his Head,
Like twisted Hairs, or Lines of fine-spun Thread.
With these the subtle Angler patient waits,
The Prey entangles, and her Hunger fates.
With these, when Tempests rage, they twining fold
The jetting Cliff, nor quit the safer Hold.
No Ship in Harbour moor'd so careless rides,
Less fears the driving Storms, and beating Tides.