Behold him seated on a mount serene,
Above the fogs of sense, and passion’s storm:
All the black cares and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet.”—Young.
When the clouds descended, the astronomers heard the dreadful noise of tempests, which discharged themselves from them on the adjacent country. They saw the lightning issue from the clouds, and heard the thunder roll far beneath them. While the lower parts were thus involved in tempests of thunder and rain, they enjoyed a delightful serenity; the wind abated, the sky cleared, and the enlivening rays of the sun moderated the severity of the cold. But when the clouds rose, their density rendered respiration difficult: snow and hail fell continually, and the winds returned with such violence, that it was impossible to overcome the fear of being blown down the precipices, or of being buried by the accumulation of ice and snow, or by the enormous fragments of rocks which rolled around them. Every crevice in their hut was stopped, and though the hut was small, was crowded with inhabitants, and several lamps were constantly burning, the cold was so great, that each individual was obliged to have a chafing-dish of coals, and several men were employed every morning in removing the snow which had fallen during the night. Their feet were swollen, and they became so tender and sensible, that walking was attended with extreme pain; their hands also were covered with chilblains, and their lips were so swollen and chapped, that every motion in speaking brought blood.
MOUNT ETNA.
“Now under sulphurous Cuma’s sea-bound coast,
And vast Sicilia, lies the shaggy breast
Of snowy Etna, nurse of endless frost,
The pillared prop of heaven, forever pressed: