As the sun set, and darkness
enveloped the scene, it became more awful than ever. We retired a
little way from the brink, to breathe some fresh air, and to try and
eat the food we had brought with us; but this was an impossibility.
Every instant a fresh explosion or glare made us jump up to survey the
stupendous scene. The violent struggles of the lava to escape from its
fiery bed, and the loud and awful noises by which they were at times
accompanied, suggested the idea that some imprisoned monsters were
trying to release themselves from their bondage, with shrieks and
groans, and cries of agony and despair, at the futility of their
efforts.
Sometimes there were at least seven spots on the borders of the lake
where the molten lava dashed up furiously against the rocks--seven
fire-fountains playing simultaneously. With the increasing darkness
the colours emitted by the glowing mass became more and more
wonderful, varying from the deepest jet black to the palest grey, from
darkest maroon, through cherry and scarlet, to the most delicate pink,
violet, and blue; from the richest brown, through orange and yellow,
to the lightest straw-colour. And there was yet another shade, only
describable by the term 'molten-lava colour.' Even the smokes and
vapours were rendered beautiful by their borrowed lights and tints,
and the black peaks, pinnacles, and crags, which surrounded the
amphitheatre, formed a splendid and appropriate background.
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