Hark, hark, hark!
Some.
’Tis the roll of chariots on the pavements.
Others.
’Tis the sound of drums. Hark to the music——, the Emperor is coming!
[The procession of Apollo advances from the right through the grove, and stations itself amid music of flutes and harps, in a semicircle in front of the temple.
Julian.
[Turning towards the temple, with upstretched hands.] I accept the omen!——
Never have I felt myself in such close communion with the immortal gods.
The Bow-Wielder is among us. The earth thunders beneath his tread, as when of old he stamped in wrath upon the Trojan shore.