Of Fishes next, my Friends, I would enquire,
How the mute Race engender, or respire;
From the small Fry that glide on  Stream
Unmark'd, a Multitude without a Name,
To that , who o'er the Seas
Immense rolls onward his impetuous Ways,
And mocks the Wind, and in the Tempest plays.
How They in Warlike Bands march greatly forth
From freezing Waters, and the colder North,
To Southern Climes directing their Career,
Their Station changing with th'inverted Year.
How all with careful Knowledge are indu'd,
To chuse their proper Bed, and Wave, and Food:
To guard their Spawn, and educate their Brood.