The great square of Jerusalem. Thence a broad long flight of steps leads to the porch of pillars of the fortress of Zion; on the right is the king’s palace and in the center the adjoining temple. On the other side the great square is bounded by houses and streets which seem low and mean in contrast with the towering structures facing them. The walls of the entrances to the palace are lined with cedar, carved with figures of cherubim, palm trees, and open flowers, all overlaid with gold; there are lavers in the foreground with running water. In the background are seen the brazen gates of the temple.
In front of the palace, in the streets and on the stairway, the people of Jerusalem move to and fro confusedly; a motley mass of men, women, and children, swayed by strong excitement, and in eager expectation. Many voices rise from the crowd, usually in animated dispute, but uniting at times to a single cry. When the scene opens, all have pressed towards the streets and are restlessly expectant.
Voices
The sentinel has already given the signal from the tower.—No, not yet.—But I heard the trumpet.—So did I.—So did I.—They must be close at hand.—From which side are they coming?—Shall we see them?
They are coming from Moria Gate.—They must pass this way as they go to the palace.—Don’t block up the whole street.—We want to get a sight of them.—Stand back.—Room, room for the Egyptians.
A Voice
But is it certain that they are coming?
Another Voice
I myself spoke to the messenger who brought the tidings.