“No sooner said than an instant peal of thunder crashes on the left and down from the sky a shooting star comes gliding, trailing a flaming torch to irradiate the night as it comes sweeping down. We watch it sailing over the topmost palace roofs to bury itself, still burning bright, in the forests of Mount Ida, blazing its path with light, leaving a broad furrow, a fiery wake, and miles around the smoking sulfur fumes.
