About the shark, phlegmatical one
Pale sot of the Maldive sea
The sleek little pilot-fish, azure and slim
How alert in attendance be
From his saw-pit of mouth, from his charnel of maw
They have nothing of harm to dread
But liquidly glide on his ghastly flank
Or before his Gorgonian head;
Or lurk in the port of serrated teeth
In white triple tiers of glittering gates
And there find a haven when peril's abroad
An asylum in the jaws of Fate!
They are friends; and friendly they guide him to prey
Yet never partake of the treat
Eyes and brains to the dotard lethargic and dull
Pale ravener of horrible meat
Contrary to what the poet says, pilot fish do not in fact guide sharks to their prey, though they’re occasionally used as metaphors for scavengers or looters trailing in the wake of more dangerous criminals.
The Maldive Shark