With difficulty, indeed, do I open my mouth for these very
words. Behold my scorched hair, and _such a quantity of ashes over my
eyes_' (the Drift-deposits), '_so much, too, over my features_. And
dost thou give this as my recompense? This as the reward of my
_fertility_ and my duty, in that I _endure wounds from the crooked
plow and harrows_, and am harassed all the year through, in that I
supply green leaves for the cattle, and corn, a wholesome food, for
mankind, and frankincense for yourselves.
"'But still, suppose I am deserving of destruction, why have the
waves deserved this? Why has thy brother' (Neptune) 'deserved it? Why
do the seas delivered to him by lot _decrease_, and why do they
_recede still farther from the sky?_ But if regard neither for thy
brother nor myself influences thee, still have consideration for thy
own skies; look around on either side, see how each pole is
_smoking_; if the fire shall injure them, _thy palace will fall in
ruins_. See! Atlas himself is struggling, and hardly can he bear the
glowing heavens on his shoulders.
"'If the sea, if the earth, if the palace of heaven, perish, we are
then jumbled into the old chaos again.
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