THE thunderbolts of Jove had triumphed, and impious Typhæus stretched his prostrate length along the groaning earth. Glad Sicily was laid upon the conquered monster, to keep him down; for Jupiter knew well enough there 'd be another bloody fight, if ever he got up. Upon his hundred heads rested alarmed old Etna, covering all save a few long straggling locks. The imposition of such heavy weight, of stone, and wood, and water, bore not the vanquished foe, with dutiful submission; bore not the inhumation, and thanked the hand that buried him; but up against the blackened sky, ingrate, from his rebellious bowels, belched such showers of ashes, and clouds of smoke, mixed up with lava and lumps of coke, that Ocean roared with fear, and Ætna's peaceful seats reeled, and rolled, to and fro, with terror and dismay. The God of Tartarus upstarted at the din, heard in his house profound, all trembling, lest his roof should suddenly be cracked, and daylight enter, and the ghosts get out, and he be overwhelmed with suits for the escape. Up! up! thou wary jailor! He harnessed his black steeds, into his chariot sprang, shook the loose reins, cracked his long lash,—of cast |