At length, as thro disparting clouds they rise, And hills above them still obstruct the skies, While a dead calm o'er all the region stood? And not a leaf could fan its parent wood, Sudden a strange portentous noise began; The birds fled wild, the beasts for shelter ran; Slow, sullen, loud, with deep astounding blare, Swell the strong tones of subterranean war; Behind, before, beneath them groans the ground, Earth heaves and labors with the shuddering sound; Columns of smoke, that cap the rumbling height, Roll reddening far thro heaven, and choke the light; From tottering steeps descend their cliffs of snow, The mountains reel, the valleys rend below; The headlong streams forget their usual round, And shrink and vanish in the gaping ground. The sun descends; but night recals in vain Her silent shades, to recommence her reign; The bursting mount gapes high, a sudden glare Coruscates wide, till all the purpling air Breaks into flame, and wheels and roars and raves And wraps the welkin in its folding waves; Light sailing cinders, thro its vortex driven, Stream high and brighten to the midst of heaven; And, following slow, full floods of boiling ore Swell, swoop aloft and thro the concave roar. Torrents of molten rocks, on every side, Lead o'er the shelves of ice their fiery tide; Hills slide before them, skies around them burn, Towns sink beneath and heaving plains upturn; O'er many a league the flaming deluge hurl'd, Sweeps total nations from the staggering world. Meanwhile, at distance thro the livid light, A busy concourse met their wondering sight; The prince drew near; where lo! an altar stood, Rude in its form, and fill'd with burning wood; Wrapt in the flames a youth expiring lay, And the fond father thus was heard to pray: Receive, O dreadful Power, from feeble age, This last pure offering to thy sateless rage; Thrice has thy vengeance on this hated land Claim'd a dear infant from my yielding hand; Thrice have those lovely lips the victim prest, And all the mother torn that tender breast; When the dread duty stifled every sigh, And not a tear escaped her beauteous eye. Our fourth and last now meets the fatal doom; Groan not, my child, thy God remands thee home; Attend once more, thou dark infernal Name, From yon far streaming pyramid of flame; Snatch from his heaving flesh the blasted breath. Sacred to thee and all the fiends of death; Then in thy hall, with spoils of nations crown'd, Confine thy walks beneath the rending ground; No more on earth the embowel'd flames to pour, And scourge my people and my race no more.