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Part VII
Chapter 12
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A BODY of irregular cavalry feebly defended the pass of Kerrund.
It was carried, with slight loss, by the vanguard of Scherirah,
and the fugitives prepared the host of the caliph for the approach
of the Hebrew army.
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Upon the plain of the Tigris the enemy formed into battle array.
The centre was commanded by Malek, the Grand Sultan of the Seljuks
himself, the right wing, headed by the Sultan of Syria, was protected
by the river; and the left, under the Sultan of Roum, was posted
upon the advantageous position of some irregular and rising ground.
Thus proud in the number, valour, discipline, and disposition of
his forces, Malek awaited the conqueror of Persia.
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The glittering columns of the Hebrews might even now be perceived
defiling from the mountains, and forming at the extremity of the
plain. Before nightfall the camp of the invaders was pitched within
hearing of that of Malek. The moving lights in the respective tents
might plainly be distinguished; and ever and anon the flourish of
hostile music fell with an ominous sound upon the ears of the opposed
foemen. A few miles only separated those mighty hosts. Upon to-morrow
depended, perhaps, the fortunes of ages. How awful is the eve of
battle!
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Alroy, attended by a few chieftains, personally visited the tents
of the soldiery, promising them on the morrow a triumph, before
which the victories of Nehauend and Nishabur would sink into insignificance.
Their fiery and excited visages proved at once their courage and
their faith. The sceptre of Solomon was paraded throughout the camp
in solemn procession. On the summit of a huge tumulus, perhaps the
sepulchre of some classic hero, Esther, the prophetess, surrounded
by the chief zealots of the host, poured forth her exciting inspirations.
It was a grand picture, that beautiful wild girl, the groups of
stern devoted warriors, the red flame of the watch-fires mixing
with the silver shadows of the moon as they illumined the variegated
turbans and gleaming armour of her votaries!
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In the pavilion of Alroy, Jabaster consulted with his pupil on
the conduct of the morrow.
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‘This is a different scene from the cavern of the Caucasus,’ said
Alroy, as the high priest rose to retire.
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‘It has one great resemblance, sire; the God of our fathers is
with us.’
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‘Ay! the Lord of Hosts. Moses was a great man. There is no career
except conquest.’
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‘You muse.’
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‘Of the past. The present is prepared. Too much thought will mar
it.’
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‘The past is for wisdom, the present for action, but for joy the
future. The feeling that the building of the temple is at hand,
that the Lord’s anointed will once again live in the house of David,
absorbs my spirit; and, when I muse over our coming glory, in my
fond ecstacy I almost lose the gravity that doth beseem my sacred
office.’
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‘Jerusalem; I have seen it. How many hours to dawn?’
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‘Some three.’
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‘’Tis strange I could sleep. I remember, on the eve of battle I
was ever anxious. How is this, Jabaster?’
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‘Your faith, sire, is profound.’
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‘Yes, I have no fear. My destiny is not complete. Good night, Jabaster.
See, Asriel, valiant priest. Pharez!’*
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‘My lord!’
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‘Rouse me at the second watch. Good night, boy.’
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‘Good night, my lord.’
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‘Pharez! Be sure you rouse me at the second watch. Think you it
wants three hours to dawn?’
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‘About three hours, my lord.’
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‘Well! at the second watch, remember; good night.’
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