570The harbour itself, sheltered from the approach of the winds, is calm and vast; 571but nearby Etna thunders with terrifying crashes; 572at times it hurls a black cloud to the heavens, smoking with pitchy whirlwind and glowing ash, and lifts up balls of flame and licks the stars; 575at times it belches out and flings up rocks, the torn-out entrails of the mountain, and rolls molten stone together into the air with a groan, and boils up from its lowest depths. 578The story is that the body of Enceladus, half-burnt by the thunderbolt, is pressed down by this mass, and that huge Etna, set on top of him, breathes out flame from its burst furnaces; 581and that each time he shifts his weary side, all Trinacria trembles with a rumble and veils the sky with smoke.
583That night, hidden in the woods, we endure monstrous portents, and cannot see what cause makes the noise. 585For there were no fires of the stars, nor was the sky bright with starry ether, but clouds in a darkened heaven, and the dead of night held the moon in a storm-cloud.