Chapter 49

They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption

Gliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the
strait, and gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for
Porpheero, from whose magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised
himself a glorious reception.

"They are one and all demi-gods," he cried, "and have the old demi-god
feeling. We have seen no great valleys like theirs:--their scepters
are long as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo's are
but inns:--their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run
parallel to theirs:--their pedigrees reach back into chaos.

"Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:--the whole land
checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners,
and mind. Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles;
bards singing in choirs.

"Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have
hived all their treasures: like a pyramid, the past shadows over the
land.

"Yoomy! here you will find stuff for your songs:--blue rivers flowing
through forest arches, and vineyards; velvet meads, soft as ottomans:
bright maidens braiding the golden locks of the harvest; and a
background of mountains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature
will not content you, then turn to the landscapes of art. See! mosaic
walls, tattooed like our faces; paintings, vast as horizons;
and into which, you feel you could rush: See! statues to which you
could off turban; cities of columns standing thick as mankind; and
firmanent domes forever shedding their sunsets of gilding: See! spire
behind spire, as if the land were the ocean, and all Bello's great
navy were riding at anchor.

"Noble Taji! you seek for your Yillah;--give over despair! Porpheero's
such a scene of enchantment, that there, the lost maiden must lurk."

"A glorious picture!" cried Babbalanja, but turn the medal, my lord;--
what says the reverse?"

"Cynic! have done.--But bravo! we'll ere long be in Franko, the
goodliest vale of them all; how I long to take her old king by the
hand!"

The sun was now setting behind us, lighting up the white cliffs of
Dominora, and the green capes of Verdanna; while in deep shade lay
before us the long winding shores of Porpheero.

It was a sunset serene.

"How the winds lowly warble in the dying day's ear," murmured Yoomy.

"A mild, bright night, we'll have," said Media.

"See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord," said Mohi, shaking
his head.

"Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler;--I predict a fair
night, and