EURIPIDES, 
'I will bring fire to thee.'

EIROS. Why do you call me Eiros?
CHARMION. So henceforth will you always be called. You
must forget, too, earthly name, and speak to me as
Charmion.
EIROS. This is indeed no dream!
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, to-morrow, I will myself induct you
into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.
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 the .
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.
EIROS. In Aidenn?
CHARMION. In Aidenn.
EIROS. Oh, God!--pity me, Charmion!--I am overburdened with
the majesty of all things--of the unknown now known--of the
speculative Future merged in the august and certain Present.
CHARMION. Grapple not now with such thoughts. To-morrow we
will speak of this. Your mind wavers, and its agitations 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.
EIROS. Most fearfully, fearfully!--this is indeed no dream.
CHARMION. Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my
Eiros?
EIROS. Mourned, Charmion?--oh, deeply. To that last hour
of all, there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout sorrow
over your household.
CHARMION. And that last hour--speak of it. Remember that,
beyond the naked fact of the catastrophe itself, I know nothing.
When, coming out from among mankind, I passed into Night through
the Grave--at that period, if I remember aright, the calamity
which overwhelmed you was utterly unanticipated. But, indeed, I
knew little of the speculative philosophy of the day.
EIROS. The individual calamity was, as you say, entirely
unanticipated; but analogous misfortunes had been long a subject
of discussion with astronomers. I need scarce tell you, my
friend, that even when you left us, men had agreed to understand
those passages in the most holy writings which speak of the final
destruction of all things by fire, as having reference to the orb
of the earth alone. But in regard to the immediate agency of the
ruin, speculation had been at fault from that epoch in
astronomical knowledge in which the comets were divested of the
terrors of flame. The very moderate density of these bodies had
been well established. They had been observed to pass among the
satellites of Jupiter, without bringing about any sensible
alteration either in the masses or in the orbits of these
secondary planets. We had long regarded the wanderers as vapoury
creations of inconceivable tenuity, and as altogether incapable
of doing injury to our substantial globe, even in the event of
contact. But contact was not in any degree dreaded; for the
elements of all the comets were accurately known. That among we should look for the agency of the threatened fiery
destruction had been for many years considered an inadmissible
idea. But wonders and wild fancies had been, of late days,
strangely rife among mankind; and although it was only with a few
of the ignorant that actual apprehension prevailed, upon the
announcement by astronomers of a comet, yet this
announcement was generally received with I know not what of
agitation and mistrust.
The elements of the strange orb were immediately calculated,
and it was at once conceded by all observers, that its path, at
perihelion, would bring it into very close proximity with the
earth. There were two or three astronomers, of secondary note,
who resolutely maintained that a contact was inevitable. I
cannot very well express to you the effect of this intelligence
upon the people. For a few short days they would not believe an
assertion which their intellect, so long employed among worldly
considerations, could not in any manner grasp. But the truth of
a vitally important fact soon makes its way into the
understanding of even the most stolid. Finally, all men saw that
astronomical knowledge lied not, and they awaited the comet. Its
approach was not, at first, seemingly rapid; nor was its
appearance of very unusual character. It was of a dull red, and
had little perceptible train. For seven or eight days we saw no
material increase in its apparent diameter, and but a partial
alteration in its colour. Meanwhile the ordinary affairs of men
were discarded, and all interests absorbed in a growing
discussion, instituted by the philosophic, in respect to the
cometary nature. Even the grossly ignorant aroused their
sluggish capacities to such considerations. The learned 
gave their intellect--their soul--to such points as the allaying
of fear, or to the sustenance of loved theory. They sought--they
panted for right views. They groaned for perfected knowledge.
 arose in the purity of her strength and exceeding
majesty, and the wise bowed down and adored.
That material injury to our globe or to its inhabitants
would result from the apprehended contact, was an opinion which
hourly lost ground among the wise; and the wise were now freely
permitted to rule the reason and the fancy of the crowd. It was
demonstrated, that the density of the comet's was far
less than that of our rarest gas; and the harmless passage of a
similar visitor among the satellites of Jupiter was a point
strongly insisted upon, and which served greatly to allay terror.
Theologists, with an earnestness fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the
biblical prophecies, and expounded them to the people with a
directness and simplicity of which no previous instance had been
known. That the final destruction of the earth must be brought
about by the agency of fire, was urged with a spirit that
enforced everywhere conviction; and that the comets were of no
fiery nature (as all men now knew) was a truth which relieved
all, in a great measure, from the apprehension of the great
calamity foretold. It is noticeable that the popular prejudices
and vulgar errors in regard to pestilences and wars--errors which
were wont to prevail upon every appearance of a comet--were now
altogether unknown. As if by some sudden convulsive exertion,
reason had at once hurled superstition from her throne. The
feeblest intellect had derived vigour from excessive interest.
What minor evils might arise from the contact were points of
elaborate question. The learned spoke of slight geological
disturbances, of probable alterations in climate, and
consequently in vegetation; of possible magnetic and electric
influences. Many held that no visible or perceptible effect
would in any manner be produced. While such discussions were
going on, their subject gradually approached, growing larger in
apparent diameter, and of a more brilliant lustre. Mankind grew
paler as it came. All human operations were suspended.
There was an epoch in the course of the general sentiment
when the comet had attained, at length, a size surpassing that of
any previously recorded visitation. The people now, dismissing
any lingering hope that the astronomers were wrong, experienced
all the certainty of evil. The chimerical aspect of their terror
was gone. The hearts of the stoutest of our race beat violently
within their bosoms. A very few days sufficed, however, to merge
even such feelings in sentiments more unendurable. We could no
longer apply to the strange orb any thoughts. Its
 attributes had disappeared. It oppressed us with
a hideous of emotion. We saw it not as an
astronomical phenomenon in the heavens, but as an incubus upon
our hearts, and a shadow upon our brains. It had taken, with
inconceivable rapidity, the character of a gigantic mantle of
rare flame, extending from horizon to horizon.
Yet a day, and men breathed with greater freedom. It was
clear that we were already within the influence of the comet; yet
we lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of frame and
vivacity of mind. The exceeding tenuity of the object of our
dread was apparent; for all heavenly objects were plainly visible
through it. Meantime, our vegetation had perceptibly altered;
and we gained faith, from this predicted circumstance, in the
foresight of the wise. A wild luxuriance of foliage, utterly
unknown before, burst out upon every vegetable thing.
Yet another day--and the evil was not altogether upon us.
It was now evident that its nucleus would first reach us. A wild
change had come over all men; and the first sense of was
the wild signal for general lamentation and horror. This first
sense of pain lay in a rigorous constriction of the breast and
lungs, and an insufferable dryness of the skin. It could not be
denied that our atmosphere was radically affected; the
conformation of this atmosphere and the possible modifications to
which it might be subjected, were now the topics of discussion.
The result of investigation sent an electric thrill of the
intensest horror through the universal heart of man.
It had been long known that the air which encircled us was a
compound of oxygen and nitrogen gases, in the proportion of
twenty-one measures of oxygen, and seventy-nine of nitrogen, in
every one hundred of the atmosphere. Oxygen, which was the
principle of combustion, and the vehicle of heat, was absolutely
necessary to the support of animal life, and was the most
powerful and energetic agent in nature. Nitrogen, on the
contrary, was incapable of supporting either animal life or
flame. An unnatural excess of oxygen would result, it had been
ascertained, in just such an elevation of the animal spirits as
we had latterly experienced. It was the pursuit, the extension
of the idea, which had engendered awe. What would be the result
of a ? A combustion
irresistible, all-devouring, omni-prevalent, immediate;--the
entire fulfilment, in all their minute and terrible details, of
the fiery and horror-inspiring denunciations of the prophecies of
the Holy Book.
Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained frenzy of
mankind? That tenuity in the comet which had previously inspired
us with hope, was now the source of the bitterness of despair.
In its impalpable gaseous character we clearly perceived the
consummation of Fate. Meantime a day again passed, bearing away
with it the last shadow of Hope. We gasped in the rapid
modification of the air. The red blood bounded tumultuously
through its strict channels. A furious delirium possessed all
men; and, with arms rigidly outstretched towards the threatening
heavens, they trembled and shrieked aloud. But the nucleus of
the destroyer was now upon us: even here in Aidenn, I shudder
while I speak. Let me be brief--brief as the ruin that
overwhelmed. For a moment there was a wild lurid light alone,
visiting and penetrating all things. Then--let us bow down,
Charmion, before the excessive majesty of the great God!--then,
there came a shouting and pervading sound, as if from the mouth
itself of HIM; while the whole incumbent mass of ether in which
we existed, burst at once into a species of intense flame, for
whose surpassing brilliancy and all-fervid heat even the angels
in the high Heaven of pure knowledge have no name. Thus ended
all.