Πυρ σοι προσισω
I will bring fire to thee. – Euripides, Andromache
EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros?
CHARMION. So henceforward will you always be called. You must forget, too, my earthly name, and speak to me as Ch...
<p><em>Πυρ σοι προσισω</em></p>
<p><em>I will bring fire to thee.</em> – Euripides, <em>Andromache</em></p>
<p>EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros?</p>
<p>CHARMION. So henceforward will you always be called. You must forget, too, <em>my</em> earthly name, and speak to me as Charmion.</p>
<p>EIROS. This is indeed no dream!</p>
<p>CHARMION. Dreams are with us no more; – but of these mysteries anon. I rejoice to see you looking life-like and rational. The film of the shadow has already passed from off your eyes. Be of heart, and fear nothing. Your allotted days of stupor have expired; and, tomorrow, I will myself induct you into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.</p>
<p>EIROS. True – I feel no stupor – none at all. The wild sickness and the terrible darkness have left me, and I hear no longer that mad, rushing, horrible sound, like the “voice of many waters.” Yet my senses are bewildered, Charmion, with the keenness of their perception of <em>the new.</em></p>
<p>CHARMION. A few days will remove all this; – but I fully understand you, and feel for you. It is now ten earthly years since I underwent what you undergo – yet the remembrance of it hangs by me still. You have now suffered all of pain, however, which you will suffer in Aidenn.</p>
<p>EIROS. In Aidenn?</p>
<p>CHARMION. In Aidenn.</p>
<p>EIROS. Oh God! – pity me, Charmion! – I am overburthened with the majesty of all things – of the unknown now known – of the speculative Future merged in the august and certain Present.</p>
<p>CHARMION. Grapple not now with such thoughts. To-morrow we will speak of this. Your mind wavers, and its agitation will find relief in the exercise of simple memories. Look not around, nor forward – but back. I am burning with anxiety to hear the details of that stupendous event which threw you among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar things, in the old familiar language of the world which has so fearfully perished.</p>
<p>EIROS. Most fearfully, fearfully! – this is indeed no dream.</p>
<p>CHARMION. Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my Eiros?</p>
<p>EIROS. Mourned, Charmion? – oh deeply. To that last hour of all, there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout sorrow over your household.</p>
<p>CHARMION. And that last hour – speak of it. Remem...