fore assume thy just command over these thy subjects, and let
them all fall prostrate on the ground to Allah, and wait to see the
fate of those who fight against the Prophet of the Faithful. But first
learn, from thine own experience, the folly of trusting even to the
greatest human power or prudence, without an affiance in the Lord of
Heaven. The world, O Misnar, is Allah's, and the kingdom of heaven is
the work of His hands; let not, therefore, the proudest boast, nor the
most humble despair; for, although the towering mountains appear most
glorious to the sight, the lowly valleys enjoy the fatness of the
skies. But Allah is able to clothe the summit of the rocks with
verdure, and dry up even the rivers of the vale. Wherefore, although
thou wert suffered to destroy the greatest part of thine enemies, yet
one was left to overpower thee, that thou mightest know that thou wert
but a weak instrument in the hands of strength."

"I know," answered the Sultan Misnar, "that Allah is able to dissolve
this frame of earth, and every vision of the eye; and therefore not
the proudest nor the most powerful can stand against Him."

As the Sultan spake thus; the army of Hobaddan appeared on the face of
the sandy desert.

"Although His power be infinite," said the genius, "yet can He effect
these changes by the most unexpected means. But I will not waste that
time in words which I am commanded to employ in action, to convince
both you and your army of the sovereignty of Allah. Therefore suffer
no man to rise from the earth or to quit his place; but lift up your
heads only, and behold those enemies destroyed before whom you fled."

So saying, the genius Macoma waved her wand, and instantly the air was
darkened, and a confused noise was heard above the armies of Misnar
and Hobaddan.

For some hours the Sultan's troops knew not the cause of the darkness
that overshadowed them; but in a little time the light returned by
degrees, and they looked toward the army of Hobaddan, and saw them
overwhelmed with innumerable locusts.

"Thine enemies," said Macoma, "O Sultan, are no more, save the
enchantress Hapacuson, who personates the rebel Ourodi."

"The glory of extirpating her infernal race," said the Vizier Horam,
bowing before the genius Macoma, "belongs to my Sultan; otherwise
Horam would esteem himself the happiest of mankind in her
destruction."

"The glory you speak of," answered the genius Macoma, "is given to
another: a fly h