The prophetess turned her dark eyes full upon Alroy. What passed in her mind was neither evident nor expressed. She gazed intently upon the calm and inscrutable countenance of the conqueror, then flung away his hand, and rushed out of the pavilion.
CHAPTER VIII.
Bagdad and the Princess
THE waving of banners, the flourish of trumpets, the neighing of steeds, and the glitter of spears! On the distant horizon they gleam like the morning, when the gloom of the night shivers bright into day. Hark! the tramp of the foemen, like the tide of the ocean, flows onward and onward, and conquers the shore. From the brow of the mountain, like the rush of a river, the column defiling melts into the plain.
Warriors of Judah! holy men that battle for the Lord! The land wherein your fathers wept, and touched their plaintive psalteries; the haughty city where your sires bewailed their cold and distant hearths; your steeds are prancing on its plain, and you shall fill its palaces. Warriors of Judah! holy men that battle for the Lord!
March, onward march, ye valiant tribes, the hour has come, the hour has come! All the promises of ages, all the signs of sacred sages, meet in this ravishing hour. Where is now the oppressor’s chariot, where your tyrant’s purple robe? The horse and the rider are both overthrown, the horse and the rider are both overthrown!
Rise, Rachel, from thy wilderness, arise, and weep no more. No more thy lonely palm-tree’s shade need shroud thy secret sorrowing. The Lord hath heard the widow’s sigh, the Lord hath stilled the widow’s tear. Be comforted, be comforted, thy children live again!
Yes! yes! upon the bounding plain fleet Asriel glances like a star, and stout Scherirah shakes his spear by stern Jabaster’s scimitar. And He is there, the chosen one, hymned by prophetic harps, whose life is like the morning dew on Zion’s holy hill: the chosen one, the chosen one, that leads his race to victory; warriors of Judah! holy men that battle for the Lord!
They come, they come, they come!