Yet this cools not the rock-eater’s rage:
The Goddess grinds her teeth in the Pit.
Lo, tilted rock-plates melt like snow—
Black faces that shine like a mirror—
Sharp edges that bite the foot of a man,
The traveler’s dread in the glare of the sun.[23]
The fire-flood swells in the upland—
A robber-flood—it dries up the streams.
Here’s cliff for god’s jumping, when wild their sport;
Deep the basin below, and boiling hot.