text:  We stand on the edge of the lake of boiling pitch--we feel the weight of the leaden mantles--we see the snow-like flakes of burning sand--we hear the cries of those who had lost the last earthly consolations the hope of death:-- "Quivi sospiri pianti ed alti guai Risonavan per l' aer senza stelle Perch' io al cominciar ne lacrimai