"Not so, old man," said Babbalanja, "when that day dawns, 'twill dawn
serene. Be calm, be calm, my potent lord."

"Talk not of calm brows in storm-time!" cried Media fiercely. "See!
how the flames blow over upon Dominora!"

"Yet the fires they kindle there are soon extinguished," said
Babbalanja. "No, no; Dominora ne'er can burn with Franko's fires; only
those of her own kindling may consume her."

"Away! Away!" cried Media. "We may not touch Porpheero now.--Up sails!
and westward be our course."

So dead before the blast, we scudded.

Morning broke, showing no sign of land.

"Hard must it go with Franko's king," said Media, "when his people
rise against him with the red volcanoes. Oh, for a foot to crush them!
Hard, too, with all who rule in broad Porpheero. And may she we seek,
survive this conflagration!"

"My lord," said Babbalanja, "where'ere she hide, ne'er yet did Yillah
lurk in this Porpheero; nor have we missed the maiden, noble Taji! in
not touching at its shores."

"This fire must make a desert of the land," said Mohi; "burn up and
bury all her tilth."

"Yet, Mohi, vineyards flourish over buried villages," murmured Yoomy.