490 WILD SCENES AND WILD HUNTERS. 
‘The shadows of all forms that think and live 
Till Death unite them, and they part no more; 
Dreams and the light imaginings of men, 
And all that faith creates of love, desires 
Terrible, strange, sublime and beauteous shapes.’ 
Every thing there, Piscator! Even to that white throne, 
heaped up like a reflex of the frowning Speclater; and there 
on the cloudy Olympus I can see particular deities of Lake 
Pleasant and Round Lake. It must be confessed, that 
though their ‘brows are awful,’ their tails look somewhat 
‘fishy!’ See! ‘there is a veritable representative of the 
salmon trout whom you have this day insulted! He kneels 
with a graceful bend of his pedestal fin, and with open mouth 
is complaining to their Godships concerning you. See how 
they wag their misty heads and scowl the feathery bolts of 
their ire down at you! Tremble, presumptuous Piscator !’ 
Piscator—laughing dolorously—“ Aye! aye! my Pithian! 
Pass him the flask, George !’” 
Ego—with a grandiose wave of the arm—‘No, sir! no 
more brandy. My inspiration is there— 
All the gods 
Are there, and all the powers of nameless worlds; 
Vast sceptred phantoms; heroes, men and beasts ; 
And Demogorgon, a tremendous gloom ; 
And he, the supreme Tyrant on his throne 
Of burning gold.’ 
Blind worm—(I should call you angle-worm, Piscator)— 
can you not see them? Look, I say !—there is the Northern 
Bear, distinct, upreared upon his mighty hinder parts, and 
boxing with his frosty paws the small and feathery curled 
efigy of a French poodle, which assails him from above 
with snarling jaws!” 
Piscator— Bah! you are becoming a political prophet. 
Do you see John Bull there?” 
Ego—indignantly—“ Where are your eyes? Do you not 
