Wrath-born, that flames in Ocean's bed.[681]
There rises up a fearful cry
From the sea things that move thereby,
When, helpless, powerless for flight,
They gaze upon the horrid sight.
Past to the northern shore, and then
Beyond the flood three leagues and ten
Your wondering glances will behold
Mount Játarúpa[682] bright with gold.
There like the young moon pale of hue