THE ERUPTION OF 1852.
Described in verse by Titus Coan, and published in the Friend.
Hark ! hark ! while yet 'tis dark There's a deep, rumbling sound, As of spirits underground, Rolling rocks for melting, Gathering ore for smelting.
Hark! while night is still dark In earth's hidden caves, Theres' a noise as of waves Muttering, sputtering, Splashing dashing, Like the sound of the surf, Like hoof on the turf.
A shake and a shiver, A quake and a quiver.
Hush ! Hush ! For a moment all is still On yon dark and distant hill. Nature stands all awed and silent, While stern Pluto lifts his trident, Seated on a sulphur throne.
To us mortals all unknown In the distant realms of wonder Vulcan forges bolts of thunder.
Hark ! hark again ! Still a rumbling now and then ; Old Vulcan blows ; the furnace glows ; Earth's ribs are rent ; hot fumes find vent. Fire ! Fire ! higher, still higher, The glaring columns rise.
A burning flood like Hell's hot blood, An angry cloud, with thunders loud, Shoots upward to the skies.
And now on high, 'gainst flaming sky Stand turrets, towers, minarets, spires, All dazzling with devouring fires.
A pillar of light, which scatters old night ; Rising, sinking, standing, swaying, A red, molten fountain, On a dark, heaving mountain.
Look ! Look ! A pyramid of glowing coals, From whose direful vortex rolls Curling smoke of every hue— Crimson, purple, sable, blue— Convolving clouds of varied dye, Emblazoned on the fretted sky.
Sweeping like a comet's tail, Blazing like a meteor's trail. Like the track of fierce Mars, On his burning wheeled cars, Like the bright, gleaming sword In the hand of the Lord ! Down, down the mountain's sides.
A fiery dragon glides Old marble melts along his way, His eyes turn midnight into day, His flaming tail is waved on high, And sweeps night's watchman from the sky. Hush ! hush ! There's a rush and a rattle Like armies in battle ! Squadrons dashing ; broad swords clashing, Sables gleaming, red blood streaming.
There's a break and a roar, Like the wave on the shore, Like the crash of dread thunder Rending earth asunder Like the fiat of God, Shaking Earth with His nod Like the breath of His ire Setting Heaven on fire ; Like the roaring on high When His chariots draw nigh ; Like the trump's direful blast When Time' cycles are past.
Smoke, fire, sulphur, nitre, Glaring brighter and still brighter. Bang, bang, bang ! clang, clang, clang ! Harsh, heavy, shrill, O'er mountain, dell and hill, Heaven's high artillery rang.
Flaming meteors dance around ; Burning whirlwinds sweep the ground : A fiery hail from clouds above Is scattered wide o'er mountain wide.
See ! see ! Dread Typhoeus' forge is sevenfold blast, And lasting hills dissolving fast.
The glowing furnace fiercer glows ; The blood red river, hotter flows ; Rocks rend, roar, melt and disappear, Mingling in wild and mad career.
Clouds gather, infold, gyrate, brighten, Thicken, darken, thunder, lighten, Sigh the winds, and howl and rave, Driving hot cinders o'er wildwood and wave. From morn till night, pale yellow light Below ; on high, shrouds earth and sky.
Dark forests blaze in the flame's red rays, Then vanish from sight, like a specter of night.
Upon the fiery tempest's breath, Desolation rolls on death.
Ah, Pele, dread Goddess of Fire, Why flash thine eyes with kindling ire? Why stir afresh thy everglowing coals, While from thy throat this burning river rolls? Why wreathe thy mythic head in smoke and flame? And startle mortals with thy fearful name? Why rend thy hoary locks and scatter thy silver hair ? Why sound thine awful trumpet forth Upon the midnight air ? But, hush once more ; the scene is o'er ; For twice ten days the fountain plays; Then all is still ; o'er dell and hill : The whirlwind's sweep is lulled to sleep Hell's burning breath is quenched in death, From murky cloud the thunder loud Has ceased to roar on mount and shore, The awful blast has hurried past, The fiery flood obeyed its God; "Thus far," He said, "and here he stayed."