As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept surges in Naples’ bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed Franko’s multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch’s palace blazed, fast by the burning mountain.
“By my eternal throne!” cried Media, starting, “the old volcano has burst forth again!”
“But a new vent, my lord,” said Babbalanja.
“More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth,” said Mohi—“methinks that Franko’s end has come.”
“You look pale, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while all other faces glow;—Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king.”
Over the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare, and thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling blasts.
“Off shore! off shore!” cried Media; and with all haste we gained a place of safety.
Down the valley now poured Rhines and Rhones of lava, a fire-freshet, flooding the forests from their fastnesses, and leaping with them into the seething sea.
The shore was lined with multitudes pushing off wildly in canoes.
Meantime, the fiery storm from Franko, kindled new flames in the distant valleys of Porpheero; while driven over from Verdanna came frantic shouts, and direful jubilees. Upon Dominora a baleful glare was resting.