Miscellanies in Verse and Prose :: :: University of Virginia Library

Ætna , that from her broken Cells expires
Wide Inundations of devouring Fires;
The fruitful Causes of the furious Flame,
The dread Convulsions that disturb her Frame,
Shall be the Subject of my daring Song,
For Nature's Wonders to the Muse belong.)

Apollo, God of Numbers, gracious smile;
From Xanthos, Delphos, or the Delian Isle,
Resort to bless my Verse; and with thee bring
The tuneful Sisters from their sacred Spring,
To crown my Vows; if you supply your Store,
I safely shall pursue a Path untrod before.

Who has not heard of Saturn's Golden Reign?
When none with Labour sow'd the fruitful Grain,
Nor clear'd from rising Weeds th'encumber'd Plain;

But annual Harvests freely fill'd the Floor,
And Vines, unpress'd, supply'd their gen'rous Store:
When fragrant Honey from the Leaves distill'd,
And Oil spontaneous dropp'd upon the Field.
While Men, invited by a Life so sweet,
Made quiet Cottages their humble Seat.

Such Themes, by daily Use, are common grown,
And better than the present Age are known:
Who has not sung th'adventrous Youth of Greece,
To Colchis steering for the Golden Fleece?
Troy laid in Ashes by th'Argolic Train?
The Mother weeping for her Children slain?
The Serpent's Teeth? the Feast Thyestes made?
Th'unhappy Fair by Theseus' Fraud betray'd?
And whate'er wicked Deeds have been exprest
By antient Poets, and in Fables drest.

A Theme untouch'd my Muse attempts to sing;
From whence th'unwasted Fires of Ætna spring;
What Causes give them Vent, when, from below,
Huge molten Rocks with frightful Roar they throw:
When all around descends the sulph'rous Stream,
And sweeps the Country with the driving Flame.

No Faith is due to what the Poets feign,
That Vulcan does within the Caverns reign,
And, lab'ring at the Forge, rolls out the Tide
Of furious Fires, and shakes the Mountain's Side.
As if a Care so sordid cou'd employ
The sacred Pow'rs inhabiting the Sky;

But far remote in Heav'n, Sublime they reign,
And the base Toil of Human Trades disdain.

As fond the Notion, that beneath the Cave
Their noisy Shop the brawny Cyclops have,
With heavy Hammers on strong Anvils beat
The dreaded Bolt, and mighty Strokes repeat.
A shameless Fiction, so absurd and vain,
As no pretended Proofs can e'er maintain.

Nor less prophane, that the Gigantic Brood,
Oppress'd beneath, eject the fiery Flood.
This impious Race, 'tis said, with mad Design,
To storm the Starry Seats did boldly join,
Jove to depose, and rule with dreadful Awe,
And on the vanquish'd Heav'n impose the Law.
Down to the Groin a Human Form descends,
But in a Serpent's Folds the monstrous Figure ends.
Huge Mounds, to reach the starry Summit, rise;
On Pelion Ossa, and on Ossa lies
Olympus' Height, and swells within the Skies.
From these with fearless Insolence they strove
To scale the Spheres, and win the Seats above.
The furious Band attempt the trembling Sky,
And to the Combat all the Gods defy.
To guard the Heav'ns, Jove cast his Lightnings round,
And fiery Bolts with formidable Sound.
Th'enormous Crew assail, with barb'rous Cry;
With wrecking Winds he vindicates his Sky,
And rattling Thunders rushing from on high.

The Gods all hasten at the fierce Alarms,
And run Unanimous to ready Arms.
Mars fought amain, and ev'ry Deity;
But long their Fears in equal Balance lie,
'Till Jupiter his Master-Thunder play'd,
And their proud Piles in shatter'd Ruins lay'd.
Crush'd with their Works, the Rebels were subdu'd,
With Mother Earth, who still their Strength renew'd.
Then to the World was Peace restor'd, and then
Gay Bacchus visited the Skies agen;
The Gods triumphant take their former Place,
And now for Heav'n secur'd, receive the Victor's Grace.
Enceladus by Jove, above the rest,
With bell'wing Ætna's monstrous Weight was prest;
He sweats beneath the Load, and still expires
From his wide Jaws, the Flakes of mounting Fires.

Such empty Fictions the fond Vulgar hold,
By sportive Wits in Lying Poems told.
They, like the Drama, in their Verses show
The gloomy Manes, and the Ghosts below;
The Realms of Death, where ruthless Pluto reigns,
The Stygian Waters, and the dreery Plains:
To them we owe the Dog with triple Roar,
And Tityus' Bulk which spreads sev'n Acres o'er.
Thee, Tantalus, they teaze, in Plenty plac'd,
That still provokes, and still eludes thy eager Taste.
They sing how Minos gives the Phantoms Laws,
And Æacus decides the dubious Cause.

Condemn'd by them alone, Ixion's bound,
Fix'd on his restless Wheel, that rolls for ever round:
With other Stories of Infernal Woes,
Mere Fiction all! as conscious Nature knows.

Nor here they stop; ev'n into Heav'n they pry,
And trace the secret Actions of the Sky;
They know the Civil Wars of Gods above,
The Shapes in which they sought forbidden Love:
How Jove a Bull did to Europa seem,
And as a milk-white Swan to Leda came:
How glitt'ring in a precious Show'r he roll'd,
And vanquish'd Danaë in the Form of Gold.
Such Liberties as these the Poets take;
But I of Truth a strict Relation make;
I sing what fervid Springs of Matter fry
In Ætna's Hollow, and the Flame supply.

Where-e'er this ample Ball extends around,
And circling Ocean rolls its Waves profound,
It is not solid all, but Pores divide
The spreading Mass, and yawning Caverns wide;
For, like an Animal, in Veins below,
To feed its Life, the Waters ceaseless flow;
And in its Bowels rattling Winds are bred,
Which, struggling upwards, break their darksome Bed.

Or when the crude Materials of the World,
In rude Disorder and Confusion hurl'd,
Were portion'd out, and gave a beauteous Birth
To the new Forms of Heav'n, and Seas, and Earth;

Heav'n drew the purer Seeds, the Sea the next,
And lumpish Earth was of the coarsest mixt;
A discontinu'd Body; as in haste
A huddled Heap of Stones together cast,
And ill-compacted, of unequal Size,
Hollow beneath, and all disjointed lies:
Such is the Globe; not one united Mass,
But broken Channels thro' her Bowels pass.

Or thus at first these secret Pores were sluc'd,
With Earth coëval, and not since produc'd;
Or else the Winds, in close Confinement pent,
Shatter the Soil, to force a various Vent;
Or Waters, ever-running, wash away
The wearing Ground, and silently decay;
Or Fires, supprest beneath, with Rage demand
An upward Passage thro' the sunder'd Land;
Or all these Elements together jar,
And meet discordant in intestine War.

But here the Cause 'tis needless to pursue,
Since the known Fact is manifest to View.
For who that sees such num'rous Fountains spread,
And start emerging from their secret Bed,
Can doubt that Vacancies in Earth are bred?
Nor can they such a copious Stream sustain
By Vapours only, and by falling Rain,
But ample Hollows must include below
The plenteous Fund, from whence the Torrents flow:

And rolling Rivers frequently are found
To disappear, and plunge beneath the Ground;
In roomy Gulphs absorb'd, they perish quite,
Or blindly running on, conceal'd from Sight,
Gush sudden forth, and issuing out again,
Renew their Current on the fertile Plain.

If spacious Channels thus the Soil divide,
T'imbibe the Treasures of the smother'd Tide;
A Track for rising Fountains must be found,
And various Voids must perforate the Ground.
If Rivers, swallow'd up, are wholly lost,
Or rais'd again, a second Birth can boast;
Unknown before, if others make their way,
And from new Sources a new Stream display,
Where is the Wonder, that the working Wind
Shou'd ope itself a Passage, when confin'd?
Of this undoubted Proofs we may receive,
And the rent Earth can sad Examples give;
Breaches immensely wide, of dire Affright,
And gaping Chasms, where the descending Sight
May strange Abysses view, and Ruins hid in Night.

Ev'n savage Beasts can with their Feet, we find,
Delve deep in ample Forests Caverns blind.
So spacious are the downward Dens they frame,
That Floods of Water scarcely fill the same.
From all these Instances thus clear to View,
If just Deductions strictly we pursue,

We shall conclude, that in the dark Profound,
The like Effects may easily abound.
For Fire, by Nature fierce and violent,
More fierce becomes in straiten'd Caverns pent,
And restless strives, and breaking ev'ry Band,
Works out its Way, and separates the Land;
And when the stony Ground resists their Course,
Th'indignant Flames a Pass obliquely force.
This shakes the trembling Earth; when, coop'd beneath,
Thro' subterraneous Veins the Spirits breathe,
And kindle Motion, which cou'd never be,
If Earth were solid, and from Channels free;
No Motions then, that fill us with Affright,
Or Spectacles uncouth wou'd strike the Sight,
But the vast Ball wou'd rest a lifeless Weight.

If we suppose these Fires are only bred
In superficial Hollows, and are fed
In upper Chinks; 'tis false, and daily Sight
Disproves our Error, and will set us right:
For where the Cells an open Mouth display,
The falling Fires soon languish and decay;
And the free Winds, compress'd in Space no more,
Abate their Fury, and no longer roar:
But when in narrow Prisons they're inclos'd,
They heave and struggle, in their way oppos'd,
And pushing thro' the shatter'd Soil, repair
To shake their Wings aloft, and skim in upper Air.

The furious Blast o'erturns the trembling Wall;
And tott'ring Towns, at once supplanted, fall.
From hence the fairest Omen we may frame,
(If an Event so strange, Belief may claim,)
The World shall change its present Form again,
And Chaos re-assume his antient Reign.

As Earth is riven thus with secret Flaws,
The busy Winds thro' various Veins she draws;
This Ætna clearly shews; nor need'st thou here
Seek for the Causes, which so plain appear;
For many Wonders which the Hill supplys,
From evident Originals arise.

There yawning Breaches gape; and level here
Her Sides entire without a Wound appear:
And the deep Rock resists the fiery War.
Amid the Strife, some Parts are firmer fixt,
And stand the Flames, which prey upon the next.
From these rude Shocks th'embowel'd Mountain wears
A dreadful Aspect, and indented Scars.

The mystic Theme inflames the learned Mind
The certain Cause of the strange Fact to find.
The Fires will soon an Information give,
And what our Eyes behold, we must believe.
So might we try and prove it by the Touch,
But the fierce Flames forbid a near Approach:
The sacred Pow'r who rules th'intestine Fray,
To Distance drives all Witnesses away.

Yet may we judge what tortures thus the Hill,
And who conducts so great a Miracle.

Now Clouds of burning Sand involve the Sky,
And flaming Fragments now are whirl'd on high,
Rent from the Mountain's Base; and all around
The hollow Caverns thunder with the Sound.
The tortur'd Heav'ns now labour with the Weight
Of dusky Ruins in their cloudy Flight;
Jove from above th'outrageous Strife admires,
The mounting Fogs, and Floods of spiry Fires;
And fears the Giants shou'd rebell again,
Or Pluto, weary of his sable Reign,
Shou'd seek to win the Heav'n's serener Plain.
And fearing this, with his Almighty Hand
He presses down, and binds the heaving Land.
Aloft the Stones and putrid Sand are borne,
And, as they pass, the Tunnels overturn;
Not of themselves they mount, but wanting Stay,
By rushing Winds are hurry'd on their Way;
The mix'd Ingredients are compell'd around,
And toss'd and bandy'd in the vast Profound.
This kindles Burnings in the Mountain's Frame;
The fanning Winds provoke the languid Flame;
For tho' the Fires their active Force retain,
And press for Passage, yet they press in vain,
For Want of Aid to lift them from below,
But swiftly follow, when the Spirits blow;

The Wind, as Head-Commander, leads the Way,
The ready Fires the leading Wind obey.

Thus having shewn the Soil, and whence proceeds
The swelling Wind, and what the Burning feeds,
I'll sing what makes the fierce Convulsions cease,
How the hush'd Hill is lull'd in sudden Peace:
Immense the Labour which I here prepare,
But the Reward will recompense the Care.

Man shou'd not, like the Brutes, whose only Good
Is with a downward Head to graze their Food,
On Nature's Wonders stare with stupid Eyes,
But search the sev'ral Springs from whence they rise,
And worthily assert his Kindred Skies:
How many Elements, and what, explore,
The World compose, and why they are no more:
If a last Period waits the mighty Frame,
Or rolling Ages still shall flow the same.

To know the just Dimensions of the Sun,
And certain Compass of the changeful Moon;
Why in the Year twelve times She runs her Race,
Which He but once compleats with tardier Pace:
What Stars obey one Measure in their Dance,
And which, erratic, variously advance:
The Times and Laws the twice fix Signs retain;
Why the wan Moon foretells descending Rain;
Why flushing-red her Planet sometimes glows,
While Phœbus' Face a paler Aspect shows;

Why change the Seasons; why the Spring is lost
In Summer, Summer by the Autumn clos'd;
Why Autumn is in hoary Winter drown'd;
The Chace continu'd in perpetual Round:
To know the distant Polar Stars, and whence
The Comets shed their baleful Influence;
Why Lucifer appears at Dawn of Day,
At Ev'ning Hesperus with kindling Ray;
Whence moves Boötes slow; why Saturn's Star
Is wayward, griping; Mars provokes to War;
And which befriend the sailing Mariner:
The Bearings of the swelling Sea to know,
And various Courses of the Skies foreshow,
Orion's Track, and Sirius' sultry Way,
Their sev'ral Aspects, and their sev'ral Sway,
With ev'ry Miracle in Nature's Store,
Not blindly blended in the ruder Ore,
But in their proper Seat to range the Whole;
Is the Sublimest Pleasure of the Soul!

But Earth first claims our Thoughts, and searching Care,
As nearer us than the Cœlestial Sphere:
Vain Hopes and Madness of a mortal Mind
To seek the Secrets of the Skies to find,
And slothfully to slight a Scene that lies
So nobly great, and just before our Eyes!
Our Pains on Trifles meanly we employ,
For paltry Gain, incessant Labours try,
And pass the worthy Arts and useful Science by.

By Day and Night the Peasant tills his Lands,
Till callous from the Glebe return his Hands;
The Nature of the sev'ral Soils he proves,
Which suits with Corn, or Vines, or shady Groves;
Where Grass will thrive, or Forests shoot on high,
And which will best the feeding Flocks supply;
Dry Ground, he knows, will fatning Olives please,
And with the rougher Elm the wet agrees:
His Mind and Body both thus toil amain,
To fill his Casks, and heap his Barns with Grain,
And Ricks with Fodder for his bleating Train.
Still covetous of Wealth without a Bound,
From Thirst of Gold we break th'embowel'd Ground,
The trailing Silver in its Veins exquire,
With delving Ir'ns and Force of searching Fire.
Let each with gen'rous Arts improve his Mind;
These are the Fruits becoming of our Kind:
Be then our Study, Nature's Works to know,
And the strange Cause of Ætna's Flames below:
Let us not trembling view the lab'ring Hill,
As Heav'n were threat'ning in the Miracle,
But seek what shuts the Winds, and feeds the Fire,
And what as suddenly does Peace inspire;
What violates the Truce, and arms agen
The hostile Fray, and tumults all the Den:
Whether the Flames their ready Rage renew
In open Cells above, expos'd to View;

Or Earth, thro' narrow Pores attracting Air,
Wakes with the Wind the loud tempestuous War:

For where the Mountain elevates on high
Her ragged Spire, within the clouded Sky,
Here freely she admits the fanning Air,
With open Passage, and ejects it there;
Thro' sev'ral Flaws she lets a diff'rent Wind,
Which multiply their Fury, when combin'd:
Or Exhalations, issuing from beneath,
Press for a Vent, and thro' the Crannies breathe;
Or Waters, ent'ring thro' the Mountain's Side,
Force the fierce Spirits onwards as they glide,
And dash into a Heap whate'er resists their Tide.

As in an Organ, first the rushing Air
A Mass of Waters do's before it bear;
And then the Waters, in their Turn, we find,
Drive thro' the hollow Pipes the vanquish'd Wind,
Which strongly from its strait Confinement sent,
Comes loudly rattling thro' the narrow Vent;
Still as the Waters press, the Spirits sound,
And spread the bubling Symphony around.
So Air and Water meet; and wanting Room,
Contend with Fury in Earth's shatter'd Womb,
Till dreadful Murmurs from the Mountain come.
From the like Causes spring the Winds below,
(Reason suggests,) as in the Air they blow:

For when the Fires on various Bodies prey,
Some, disengag'd and loosen'd from their Stay,
Fall thro' the Void, and with the weighty Blow
Strike others off, and bear them down below.
If you suppose that other Things beget
These Hurricanes of Wind, 'tis certain yet
The bursting Caverns, tumbling in, expell
The struggling Air from the demolish'd Cell:
So where a River has o'erflow'd a Field,
A breathing Gale the steaming Vapours yield;
And from the Valleys, Exhalations rise
In heavy Mists, ascending to the Skies:
Ev'n slender Streams impell their ambient Air,
With blust'ring Atoms, fuming from afar.
If then in open Air, the swelling Wind
Such Pow'r obtains, what is it when confin'd?
Pent in, it pushes round with restless Force,
When Waters meet, and choak it in its Course:
As in the Billows of the tossing Sea,
The last protrudes the former on its Way,
So the press'd Spirits, with resistless Might,
Hungry along gross Bodies in their Flight,
Thro' Veins of Earth, till with the piercing Flame,
The Matter melts, and from her hollow Frame,
Rebellowing Ætna pours a fiery Stream.
If you believe, thro' the same Pores the Wind
Descends, and do's returning Passage find,

A thousand Things, which clearly strike our Eye,
Disprove th'Opinion, and the Fact deny.
Tho' the blue Heav'ns serenely smile around,
And open Beams shine golden on the Ground,
A pitchy Cloud, which humid Vapours fill
And double Night, o'er Ætna hovers still,
And loftily surveys the Labours of the Hill;
No Fires disperse it, but with th'ambient Air
It lightly wheels around, and settles there.
Yet on the steepy Crown, where ragged Flaws
The Mountain wears, and opes her yawning Jaws,
The Natives dare with Rites the Gods adore,
If the hush'd Fires, subsiding, cease to roar.

You ask then, since the forceful Spirits fly,
And tear the Rocks, and hurl the Flames on high,
Why with their Rage they never burst around
The hollow Arches, that support the Ground:
To this; so swift their nimble Torrent flies,
They 'scape the feeble View of human Eyes:
Thus in Lustrations, when the Priest the Band
Besprinkles round, and waves the sacred Brand,
The whirling Sparkles on our Bodies hit,
And harmless dye, as soon as they alight;
And kindling Flames on smoking Altars laid,
Burn up direct, nor on the Hedges spread,
Nor scorch the Grass upon the flow'ry Plain;
The Trees their leafy Honours still retain;

While od'rous Fumes from burning Incense play,
And the mild Fires affect no farther Prey.

Thus whether from above the Winds conspire,
Or from beneath, 'tis they awake the Fire;
Black Clouds of Sand they wildly toss on high,
While glowing Stones in dreadful Vollies fly,
And with tremendous Roar assail the Sky.
So when the Groves outrageous Tempests rend,
This Way and that the rattling Branches bend;
Against each other strike the bandy'd Boughs,
And chafe and kindle with the furious Blows.

But here the Vulgar's stupid Tale beware,
That the spent Hill, its Losses to repair,
Is calm a while, till re-inforc'd again,
New Floods of Fire are spouted on the Plain.
The Pow'rs that o'er th'intestine Fray preside,
Are not with Stores so scantily supply'd,
But endless Magazines at hand provide.
Tis true, a Truce succeeds; but whence the Cause,
Is yet unknown. Perhaps the Mountain's Jaws,
Choak'd up with Ruins, hold th'included Wind,
Beneath the Rubbish, in the Vaults confin'd.
Then the chill'd Mountain, weary'd in the Fight,
Securely may be clomb without Affright:
But quickly rallying, with impetuous Sway,
The Winds burst thro' th'opposing Bands their Way;
The Fires rekindle, with new Rage supply'd,
And stream afresh adown the Mountain's Side,

Subvert whate'er resists them as they go,
And overwhelm the ruin'd Fields below:
When the Winds cease, 'tis true the Storm is o'er,
But the Hill yields an unexhausted Store
Of ready Food, in ev'ry secret Vein,
To feed the fainting Fires, and raise again;
Still boils the Sulphur, and incessant fries
A clammy Liquor, and the Flame supplies;
And fat Bitumen in its secret Mine,
And all combustible Materials join:
For such as these the horrid Soil compose,
As ev'ry Stream that from the Mountain flows,
By its infected Waters clearly shows.

One Part is rocky, and dissolving feeds
The Fire with Oyl, that from its Veins proceeds.
Here various Stones are found, without a Name,
Which melt, and foster the perpetual Flame;
But the prime Matter is the Miller's Stone,
Which claims in chief the Mountain for its own;
By Sight and Touch, you never wou'd suppose
A Flint so hard cou'd secret Fire inclose;
But if you try it once with clashing Steel,
A Blaze of Sparkles will the Truth reveal:
Cast in the Flames, it soon becomes their Prey,
And readier runs than Ir'n, and melts away;
Because its Nature, easily expell'd,
Is vanquish'd, when in searching Fire 'tis held.

Yet its own native Flames securely dwell,
And fear no Force within their hollow Cell;
And scarcely can the sullen Stone be brought
T'eject the Fires intense, with which 'tis fraught.
Now it receives them in its trailing Veins,
But when admitted, stubbornly retains.

Yet will we not conclude, that this supplies
The chief Materials whence the Burnings rise,
Because it boasts the greater Part alone
Of Ætna's Hill, and is the Master Stone;
With Properties endu'd, surprizingly its own.
This farther Voucher to the Truth remains;
All other Matter that the Hill contains,
Once set on fire, is quite consum'd, or lyes
A Heap of Ashes; but this Stone defies
The fiercest Flames, and all their Vigour tries;
Endures the hot Attack, and slowly burns,
And, when it yields, to the dry Pumice turns.
In other Parts tho' flashing Fires arise,
The languid Stone, as its pale Hue implies,
Sufficient Matter for the Flame denies.

Th'Ænarian Isle, 'tis thought, was once the same,
Tho' now the Soil has choak'd the smother'd Flame;
And thus for Years the Fields that lye between
Naples and Cuma, cold and quench'd have been,
And still, tho' Sulphur issues from the Vein,
'Tis only gather'd up, and sold for Gain.

An Isle there is, 'tis sung by blazing Fame,
Whose circ'lar Figure has produc'd its Name,
Which more than raging Ætna do's abound
With Sulphur, tho' all solid is the Ground;
The rugged Stones the Seeds of Fire comprise,
But rarely thence or Fumes or Flames arise,
Or the weak Flame, exhausted, quickly dies.

Sacred to Vulcan's Pow'r, another Isle
Was once on fire, but now th'extinguish'd Soil,
Quench'd for the greater Part, affords a Bay
For suff'ring Vessels from the boist'rous Sea.
The smaller Part continues burning still,
Tho' with less Fury than th'Ætnean Hill:
Ev'n this long since had ceas'd, but from below,
Thro' private Paths, fresh Veins of Matter flow,
And fanning Winds, thro' hollow Channels sent,
Awake the Fires, and busily foment.

But from the Thing itself the Truth is plain,
Nor shall we seek the certain Cause in vain;
For from the Mountain's Cells, dispers'd around
Its shatter'd Sides, hot glowing Stones are found;
Which plainly proves the Milstone do's sustain
The furious Burnings with its copious Vein,
Which languish when this fails, and die again.
When flaming out afresh, the wastful Stone,
On ev'ry Hand with fierce Explosion thrown,
Fires others with the Fall, and melts them down.

Nor is it strange the Fires above decay,
While inwardly they work their eager Way,
And the fierce Milstone do's new Mischief form,
And give the Signal of a second Storm;
For when the rushing Winds begin to blow,
And threat an angry Deluge from below,
A rocking Earthquake shakes the solid Ground,
And sullen Groans, and Murmurs dire resound,
And Flakes of livid Flames burst forth around:
Then to some distant Hill's securer Height,
With utmost Speed precipitate your Flight,
For hissing Streams o'erflow the ruin'd Coast,
And Fragments of the Rock aloft are tost,
And Loads of Sand are wildly whirl'd on high,
With hideous Roar, and blacken all the Sky.
These horrid Inmates thus dismist, the Hill
Relents, and its convulsive Pangs are still.

The Tempest past, huge Heaps are seen around
Of mingled Ruins, that o'erspread the Ground;
Like slaughter'd Soldiers, prostrate on the Plain,
Before the Ramparts they assail'd in vain.

The Stones, thus burnt, in a coarse Scurf expire,
Like the base Dregs of Metals purg'd by Fire;
And the dire Deluge of the mingled Mass
Of molten Flints, shot thro' the narrow Pass,
(For in the Mountain's Womb the raging Flame
Dissolves them, as the Forge's heated Frame)

In copious Streams do's from the Summit flow,
And rapid rolling ruin all below;
Twelve Miles in Length extends their wasteful Course,
Nor rising Mounds retard their fatal Force;
If Forests, or high Hills oppose, with Scorn
The Hills they master, and the Forests burn,
Sweep all before them with resistless Sway,
And th'unctuous Soil recruits them in the Way.
But if the furrow'd Ground in Vales below,
And ridgy Fields their fierce Career foreslow,
The Streams behind advance with hideous Roar,
And pressing onward, push the Streams before;
So when the Waves in Mountains rise, the last
Impells the first, and in its turn is chas'd.
Thus on their Way, the burning Waves proceed;
At length, discharg'd in some deep River's Bed,
They stop their headlong Race, and cooling there
By settling Waters, their first Hardness wear.

Ev'n then the former Fever lurks within,
And breathes reviv'd, in sultry Fumes agen:
And, breaking by their Weight, with thund'ring Sound,
The shatter'd Fragments, dash'd against the Ground,
Throw Sparkles keen, and flashing Flames around.
See from afar the raging Tempests play,
And Fires rekindled rushing on their Way.
If then, the liquid Ruins tumbling down,
The hissing Waters of a River drown,

Cak'd in a harden'd Heap, the Stones repell
The Force of delving Hinds and pointed Steel;
And many a toilsome Day must be employ'd,
T'unroot the Fibres, and the Mass divide.

But 'tis in vain the real Cause to trace,
If still the vulgar Fables you embrace;
Or fancy other Kinds of Matter join,
And, melting with the Master-Stone, combine
With Pow'rs united in the secret Mine,
And Sulphur and Bitumen mix, to raise
The blind Combustion, and the furious Blaze;
For from th'Eruption, liquid Chalk around
In copious Show'rs is cast upon the Ground;
Which Potters take, and cooling it, reduce
To hard Consistence, and reserve for Use.

But gen'ral Arguments uncertain are,
And Proofs more strict must the sure Truth declare.
As Brass retains its Nature still the same,
When fix'd, or molten in the piercing Flame,
The liquid Mass as easily is known,
As the cold Ore that ne'er was melted down;
Thus, whether fix'd, or molten by the Fire,
This Stone preserves its Qualities entire,
In Smell and Weight unchang'd, and still the same,
And only now more brittle in its Frame.

Yet, I deny not, but inflam'd within,
Some other Stones to kindle may begin;

Hence the Sicilians have impos'd the Name
Fricæ on some, t'express their fusile Frame;
But tho' they're fat, and secret Fuel own,
They never melt, 'till with the Master-Stone
Conjoin'd, th'united Fires reduce them down.

If it incredible appear to some,
That flinty Stones should be by Fire o'ercome,
Let them the sage Philosopher peruse,
Whose curious Treatise evidently shews,
Before the Force of Fire all Bodies fall,
Whose subtle Seeds are intermix'd in all.
So stubborn Metals, Ir'n and glitt'ring Brass,
No less than Lead, become a molten Mass;
So rocky Marbles, from the Quarries sent,
Confess their Gold, and in the Fire relent;
And many other things, beneath the Ground,
Of the same Nature might perhaps be found.

Uncertain Guesses here are put to flight,
The Fact is vouch'd by the convincing Sight.
With gentle Fire in open Air invade
The Flint, it keeps its Firmness undecay'd;
But shut it in a stifled Furnace close,
It yields, it melts, and do's its Hardness lose,
And what was solid Stone becomes a liquid Juice.

May not the Fire be more intense, and, fed
With stronger Fuel, stronger Heat be bred?
Don't Ætna's Forges, in her craggy Frame,
Exceed in Rage all artificial Flame?

The same in Kind with the fierce Bolt, that flys
From Jove's own Hand exploded thro' the Skys.
Add then the Vigour of the rushing Wind,
With Fury pressing thro' the Pores confin'd;
As Workmen from the Bellows' hollow Frame,
With frequent Blasts increase the rising Flame.

This, to conclude, is the undoubted Cause
Of Ætna's Rage, and of the Mountain's Flaws:
Thro' narrow Channels Earth attracts the Wind,
Which press'd and straiten'd in the Caverns blind,
To the fann'd Fire, such Vigour do's convey,
That hardest Stones, subdu'd, are made its Prey.

Statues, and Domes, and stately Fanes to view,
And Works that yet can Age in part subdue,
With ev'ry Relick fam'd in antient Time,
We travel far, and search from Clime to Clime.
Now Royal Thebes our fond Desire excites,
Its celebrated Walls, and sacred Rites;
The Herdsman's, and the Harper's Tomb, whose Lays
Have fix'd his Fame thro' all succeeding Days.
The Brethren's hostile Omen we admire;
On the same Altar the same common Fire
Breaks out in twain, and sever'd Flames aspire.
There lie the sev'n Heroic Chiefs renown'd,
And He, who perish'd, swallow'd in the Ground.

Majestic Sparta, famous for the Laws
Of sage Lycurgus, Admiration draws;

Whose trusty Band the Fate of War defy'd,
Well-train'd, and steady at their Leader's Side.
Then Athens, of her fam'd Poetic Croud
And Pallas' tutelary Honour, proud;
There Theseus, for his Perfidy, forgot
To change his Sails, to shew his prosp'rous Lot;
And there was slain Erigoné, the fair
Unhappy Virgin, now a sparkling Star;
There echoing Groves, a solitary Seat,
Call Philomel to their secure Retreat,
While her chang'd Sister the safe Roof obtains,
And guilty Tereus holds the desert Plains.
Now Troy's Imperial Ashes we admire,
Lost in her Champion, and involv'd in Fire;
Great Hector's little Tomb behold, and there
The fierce Achilles lies, and Paris fair,
Who vengeful slew his Brother's Murderer.

Now on the Painter's Art, with greedy Sight
We gaze insatiate, and with fix'd Delight:
Here Venus springing from the Main appears,
And the green Water trickles from her Hairs.
The harmless Babes about Medea play,
While she prepares to snatch their Lives away.
Sad Iphigenia, and her weeping Sire,
A Veil before his Eyes, approach the Fire,
The Grecian Chiefs the mournful Victim wait,
Sav'd by the substituted Hind from Fate.

There Myro's living Fame, the brazen Cow
Extends her Neck, and seems distinct to low.
These wondrous Works our ravish'd Sight entrance,
And justly we extoll their Excellence.
Such Objects to survey with curious Eye,
Patient of Toil, from Clime to Clime we fly;
But awful Ætna, Nobler does impart,
Nature th'Artificer, transcending Art;
What sudden Wonders fill th'astonish'd Eyes,
When scorching Sirius fires the glowing Skys!
Nor less amazing is the moving Tale,
When Piety did o'er the Fire prevail:
For when the Hill pour'd out a burning Stream,
From ev'ry op'ning Cell disgorging Flame,
The smoaking Deluge, issuing down amain,
With hideous Ruin roll'd along the Plain;
As gleamy Light'nings thro' the Tempest fly,
And flash sulphureous thro' the frowning Sky:
The raging Pest devour'd the standing Corn,
And Woods, and Hills, and Fields, and Houses burn.
Ere the Catanians thought their fatal Foe
Had mov'd his Camp, he gave the sudden Blow,
And, roaring from the Hill, invades the Town below.

The trembling Croud, as Strength or Fancy guides,
Each to secure some chosen Wealth provides.
This groans beneath his Gold; and that prepares
His Arms, and fondly on his Shoulders bears;

One, slow with guilty Gain, encumber'd flies,
While from the Flame the poor Man nimbly hies
Each what he values most, with wild Desire,
Attempts to rescue from the greedy Fire;
But while they linger, covetous of more,
The hasty Flames o'ertake them with their Store,
Wide-wasting all the Land, and sparing none;
Or the two pious Brothers spar'd alone.

For when the furious Conflagration spread
From Roof to Roof, and round the City fled,
Amphinomus and good Anapias join'd
To move their Store, and speedy Shelter find;
Each had his Load; when startling they beheld
Their aged Parents to the Danger yield;
Oppress'd with cumb'rous Years, the Couple wait,
Plac'd in the Portal, their approaching Fate.

Ye sordid Misers, cast your Wealth away,
And toss it to the Fire, a worthless Prey;
The brave Example of these Sons behold,
Who more their Parents priz'd than precious Gold;
Quick on their Shoulders the great Charge they take
And thro' the Fire, unhurt, a speedy Passage make.

O filial Love, thou social Virtue dear,
Thee, Gods and Men deservedly revere!
The Fires, o'eraw'd, where-e'er they bend their Feet,
To Distance fly, and bashfully retreat.
O happy Day! this glorious Act alone
Repairs the Loss, and will for All atone.

On either Hand the Flames insatiate play,
In blazing Volumes, and devour their Prey,
But shun the virtuous Pair, and yield them open Way;
Protected by their Burden, they retire,
And safe escape the Fury of the Fire.
Crown'd with deserv'd Applause, their gen'rous Name
Is sung in Verse, and made the Poet's Theme;
And Pluto to their spotless Souls assign'd
Distinguish'd Honours of the Noblest Kind;
Blest with Eternal Fame, they truly gain'd
The happy Seats, for pious Shades ordain'd.

1708.

Hecuba.

Ariadne.

Organon Hydraulicum.

Strongyle, now Stramboli.

Hiera.

Heraclitus.

Zethus and Amphion, the Founders of Thebes.

Eteocles and Polynices, the Sons of OEdipus.

Amphiaraus.