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Updated: June 27, 2025
ISABELLA. On Etna's solitary height A reverend hermit dwells, benamed of old The mountain seer, who to the realms of light More near abiding than the toilsome race Of mortals here below, with purer air Has cleansed each earthly, grosser sense away; And from the lofty peak of gathered years, As from his mountain home, with downward glance Surveys the crooked paths of worldly strife.
From the central deep The struggling lava rends the heaving ground, The ocean-surges roar the mountains leap They shoot aloft, Oh, God! the fiery tide Has burst its bounds, and rolls down Etna's side. Thy will is done, great God! the conflict's o'er, The silvery moonbeams glance along the sea; The whispering waves half ripple on the shore, And lull'd creation breathes a prayer to thee!
For them, helots of the sea, the Etna's terrors were nothing out of the way; all ships used them harshly; life itself was harsh enough. Their bland blond faces were stupid and amiable. "Log us in!" answered one of them. "No! For what shall they log us in?" "That's all right, then," said Goodwin and let them continue to stare at him, ruminating his reasons for the question.
By this time a change of the wind had sent the smoke from Etna in their direction, and now it lay thick upon the water, and rendered it, for a while, impossible to see twenty fathoms from the bridge. "It's old Etna's dying salute," said Cosmo. "He won't have his head above water much longer." "But the flood is going down," exclaimed Captain Arms. "Yes, and that puzzles me.
Come then and next for Etna's king let us devise a friendly song, for whom with god-built freedom after the laws of Hyllic pattern hath that city been founded of Hieron's hand: for the desire of the sons of Pamphylos and of the Herakleidai dwelling beneath the heights of Taÿgetos is to abide continually in the Dorian laws of Aigimios.
She lighted a torch at Etna's burning mountain, and for nine days and nine nights she went searching for her through the darkened places of the earth. Then, upon a high and a dark hill, the Goddess Demeter came face to face with Hecate, the Moon.
Passing that grotesque erection opposite the Albert Hall, gaudy in the last touch of sunset, I saw him shudder. The spell of the ship and sea and the blazing Sicilian sunshine lay still upon us, Etna's cones towering beyond those gilded spikes of the tawdry Memorial. I stole a glance at my companion.
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