 | Mansoul or The Riddle of the World |  |
Fell on our eyeballs then so thick sharp dust:
A man the cinder-ground might see uneath;
Nor the uplifted hand, that shields his face.
For thunders' din, none hears now his own voice;
Nor his companions words, how loud he shout.
A man the cinder-ground might see uneath;
Nor the uplifted hand, that shields his face.
For thunders' din, none hears now his own voice;
Nor his companions words, how loud he shout.
To make my telling short; days midst was past;
And over all prevailed deep gloom as night;
When we attained, at length, the mountains foot;
And our first safety sought, in a walled town;
And needful rest and meat.
And over all prevailed deep gloom as night;
When we attained, at length, the mountains foot;
And our first safety sought, in a walled town;
And needful rest and meat.
Was the same eve,
We heard, how ascending certain hapless wights,
Towards their plots, on Ætnas cinder-steeps;
All suddenly, á dire rain of fiery dust;
Did on them light and deadly them invest.
Which like sparks glowing from a furnace pierced
Their coats and fretted through to the quick flesh.
Scorched unto death, those perished miserably thus.
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Towards their plots, on Ætnas cinder-steeps;
All suddenly, á dire rain of fiery dust;
Did on them light and deadly them invest.
Which like sparks glowing from a furnace pierced
Their coats and fretted through to the quick flesh.
Scorched unto death, those perished miserably thus.
| Mansoul or The Riddle of the World | |