Sometimes
the whole lake, abandoning its usual centripetal motion, as if
impelled southwards, took the form of mighty waves, and surging
heavily against the partial barrier with a sound like the Pacific
surf, lashed, tore, covered it, and threw itself over it in clots of
living fire. It was all confusion, commotion, force, terror, glory,
majesty, mystery, and even beauty. And the colour! "Eye hath not
seen" it! Molten metal has not that crimson gleam, nor blood that
living light! Had I not seen this I should never have known that
such a colour was possible.
The crust perpetually wrinkled, folded over, and cracked, and great
pieces were drawn downwards to be again thrown up on the crests of
waves. The eleven fountains of gory fire played the greater part of
the time, dancing round the lake with a strength of joyousness which
was absolute beauty. Indeed after the first half hour of terror had
gone by, the beauty of these jets made a profound impression upon
me, and the sight of them must always remain one of the most
fascinating recollections of my life. During three hours, the bank
of lava which almost divided the lakes rose considerably, owing to
the cooling of the spray as it dashed over it, and a cavern of
considerable size was formed within it, the roof of which was hung
with fiery stalactites, more than a foot long.
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