They had
extended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautiful
starlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going down, and an
uncertain light hung about the field which was to be the scene of the
conflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very aspect of
nature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; when the most
untutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds his mind
struggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths conceal; when
the soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an existence
boundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, perhaps,
the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world when
they placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such,
perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid his
followers weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars.
Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any other
circumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now they
oppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with the
mighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could not
comprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the sword
blade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of its
existence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its presence.
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