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Page 135 of 172
THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION - Complete Poetical Works
THE CONVERSATION OF EIROS AND CHARMION.
I will bring fire to thee.
_Euripides_.--'Androm'.
'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 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 new_.
'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'.
O 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.
'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.
'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'. 
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