uplifts balls of flame and licks the stars – now violently vomits forth rocks, the mountain’s top uptorn entrails, and whirls molten stone skyward with a roar, and boils up from its lowest depths.

The story runs that Enceladus’ form, scathed by the thunderbolt, is weighed down by that mass, and mighty Aetna, piled above, from its burst furnaces breathes forth flame; and ever as he turns his weary side all Trinacria moans and trembles, veiling the sky in smoke. All that night we hide in the woods, enduring monstrous horrors, and see not from what cause comes the sound. For neither did the stars show their fires, nor was heaven bright with sunlight, but mists darkened the sky and the dead of night held fast the moon in cloud.

“And now the next day was rising with