{"id":"01KG8AKSZYKVPR0TMSHR09V257","cid":"bafkreibovut2astvjfruu4onmeukgpsfh2awo3wd2zutedqetyd7nmtwau","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":6907,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:09.927Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","start_line":6815,"text":"CHAPTER XLIX.\r\nThey Draw Nigh To Porpheero; Where They Behold A Terrific Eruption\r\n\r\n\r\nGliding away from Verdanna at the turn of the tide, we cleared the\r\nstrait, and gaining the more open lagoon, pointed our prows for\r\nPorpheero, from whose magnificent monarchs my lord Media promised\r\nhimself a glorious reception.\r\n\r\n“They are one and all demi-gods,” he cried, “and have the old demi-god\r\nfeeling. We have seen no great valleys like theirs:—their scepters are\r\nlong as our spears; to their sumptuous palaces, Donjalolo’s are but\r\ninns:—their banquetting halls are as vistas; no generations run\r\nparallel to theirs:—their pedigrees reach back into chaos.\r\n\r\n“Babbalanja! here you will find food for philosophy:—the whole land\r\ncheckered with nations, side by side contrasting in costume, manners,\r\nand mind. Here you will find science and sages; manuscripts in miles;\r\nbards singing in choirs.\r\n\r\n“Mohi! here you will flag over your page; in Porpheero the ages have\r\nhived all their treasures: like a pyramid, the past shadows over the\r\nland.\r\n\r\n“Yoomy! here you will find stuff for your songs:—blue rivers flowing\r\nthrough forest arches, and vineyards; velvet meads, soft as ottomans:\r\nbright maidens braiding the golden locks of the harvest; and a\r\nbackground of mountains, that seem the end of the world. Or if nature\r\nwill not content you, then turn to the landscapes of art. See! mosaic\r\nwalls, tattooed like our faces; paintings, vast as horizons; and into\r\nwhich, you feel you could rush: See! statues to which you could off\r\nturban; cities of columns standing thick as mankind; and firmanent\r\ndomes forever shedding their sunsets of gilding: See! spire behind\r\nspire, as if the land were the ocean, and all Bello’s great navy were\r\nriding at anchor.\r\n\r\n“Noble Taji! you seek for your Yillah;—give over despair! Porpheero’s\r\nsuch a scene of enchantment, that there, the lost maiden must lurk.”\r\n\r\n“A glorious picture!” cried Babbalanja, but turn the medal, my lord;—\r\nwhat says the reverse?”\r\n\r\n“Cynic! have done.—But bravo! we’ll ere long be in Franko, the\r\ngoodliest vale of them all; how I long to take her old king by the\r\nhand!”\r\n\r\nThe sun was now setting behind us, lighting up the white cliffs of\r\nDominora, and the green capes of Verdanna; while in deep shade lay\r\nbefore us the long winding shores of Porpheero.\r\n\r\nIt was a sunset serene.\r\n\r\n“How the winds lowly warble in the dying day’s ear,” murmured Yoomy.\r\n\r\n“A mild, bright night, we’ll have,” said Media.\r\n\r\n“See you not those clouds over Franko, my lord,” said Mohi, shaking his\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n“Ah, aged and weather-wise as ever, sir chronicler;—I predict a fair\r\nnight, and many to follow.”\r\n\r\n“Patience needs no prophet,” said Babbalanja. “The night, is at hand.”\r\n\r\nHitherto the lagoon had been smooth: but anon, it grew black, and\r\nstirred; and out of the thick darkness came clamorous sounds. Soon,\r\nthere shot into the air a vivid meteor, which bursting at the zenith,\r\nradiated down the firmament in fiery showers, leaving treble darkness\r\nbehind.\r\n\r\nThen as all held their breath, from Franko there spouted an eruption,\r\nwhich seemed to plant all Mardi in the foreground.\r\n\r\nAs when Vesuvius lights her torch, and in the blaze, the storm-swept\r\nsurges in Naples’ bay rear and plunge toward it; so now, showed\r\nFranko’s multitudes, as they stormed the summit where their monarch’s\r\npalace blazed, fast by the burning mountain.\r\n\r\n“By my eternal throne!” cried Media, starting, “the old volcano has\r\nburst forth again!”\r\n\r\n“But a new vent, my lord,” said Babbalanja.\r\n\r\n“More fierce this, than the eruption which happened in my youth,” said\r\nMohi—“methinks that Franko’s end has come.”\r\n\r\n“You look pale, my lord,” said Babbalanja, “while all other faces\r\nglow;—Yoomy, doff that halo in the presence of a king.”\r\n\r\nOver the waters came a rumbling sound, mixed with the din of warfare,\r\nand thwarted by showers of embers that fell not, for the whirling\r\nblasts.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJTNYE9R069VZZMV53ADT","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1954N2G0NAERBNJXEX9","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKSZVKZ1Z5DW8R8Q2EBDH","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:16.382Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:24.923Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}