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"Tropes on tropes!" said. Media. "Let me tell the tale, — straightforward like a line. Verda
"A trope! my lord," cried Babbalanja.
"My tropes are not tropes," said Media, "but yours are.-Verda
"What my lord cites is true," said Mohi, "but cite no more, I pray; lest, you harm your cause."
"Yet for all this, Babbalanja," said Media, "Bello but holds lunatic Verda
"And may the guardian of an estate also hold custody of the ward, my lord?"
"Ay, if he can. What can be done, may be: that's the Greed of demigods."
"Alas, alas!" cried Yoomy, "why war with words over this poor, suffering land. See! for all her bloom, her people starve; perish her yams, ere taken from the soil; the blight of heaven seems upon them."
"Not so," said Media. "Heaven sends no blights. Verda
"I am no sage," said Yoomy, "what would my lord Media do?"
"What would you do, Babbalanja," said Media.
"Mohi, what you?" asked the philosopher.
"And what would the company do?" added Mohi.
"Now, though these evils pose us all," said Babbalanja, "there lately died in Verda
"Well, Azzageddi, how could that answer his purpose?" asked Media.
"Nothing better, my lord. His fire boiled his bread-fruit; and so convinced were his countrymen, that he was well employed, that they almost stripped their scanty orchards to fill his caldron."
"Ko
"Your pardon, old man, but that is only known to his ghost, not to us.
At any rate he was a great man; for even assuming he cajoled his country, no common man could have done it."
"Babbalanja," said Mohi, "my lord has been pleased to pronounce Verda
"Doubtless, Braid-Beard, many of the extravagances of Verda
"King Bello's men are dastards for that," cried Yoomy. "It shows neither sense, nor spirit, nor humanity," said Babbalanja.
"All wide of the mark," cried Media. "What is to be done for Verda
"What will she do for herself?" said Babbalanja.
"Philosopher, you are an extraordinary sage; and since sages should be seers, reveal Verda
"My lord, you will ever find true prophets, prudent; nor will any prophet risk his reputation upon predicting aught concerning this land. The isles are Oro's. Nevertheless, he who doctors Verda
"And what sort of a vegetable is that?" asked Mohi. "Consult the botanists," said Babbalanja.
CHAPTER XLIX
They Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption
Gliding away from Verda
"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 i
"Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:-the whole land checkered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, ma
"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 Verda
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 many to follow."
"Patience needs no prophet," said Babbalanja. "The night, is at hand."
Hitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and stirred; and out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon, there shot into the air a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith, radiated down the firmament in fiery showers, leaving treble darkness behind.
Then as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption, which seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground.
As when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept surges in Naples' bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed Franko's multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch's palace blazed, fast by the burning mountain.