e most wakeful guards;
and it was evident that the fire which burned the camp of an army had
been kindled merely to gratify the revenge, or favour the escape of an
individual. Shaking, therefore, from his kingly spirit the thrill of
superstitious awe that the greatness of the disaster, when associated
with the name of a sorcerer, at first occasioned, he resolved to make
advantage out of misfortune itself. The excitement, the wrath of the
troops, produced the temper most fit for action.

"And Heaven," said the King of Spain to his knights and chiefs, as
they assembled round him, "has, in this conflagration, announced to the
warriors of the Cross, that henceforth their camp shall be the palaces
of Granada! Woe to the Moslem with to-morrow's sun!"

Arms clanged, and swords leaped from their sheaths, as the Christian
knights echoed the anathema--"WOE TO THE MOSLEM!"

BOOK V.

CHAPTER I. THE GREAT BATTLE.

The day slowly dawned upon that awful night; and the Moors, still upon
the battlements of Granada, beheld the whole army of Ferdinand on its
march towards their wails. At a distance lay the wrecks of the blackened
and smouldering camp; while before them, gaudy and glittering pennons
waving, and trumpets sounding, came the exultant legions of the foe.
The Moors could scarcely believe their senses. Fondly anticipating
the retreat of the Christians, after so signal a disaster, the gay
and dazzling spectacle of their march to the assault filled them with
consternation and alarm.

While yet wondering and inactive, the trumpet of Boabdil was heard
behind; and they beheld the Moorish king, at the head of his guards,
emerging down the avenues that led to the gate. The sight restored and
exhilarated the gazers; and, when Boabdil halted in the space before
the portals, the shout of twenty thousand warriors rose ominously to the
ears of the advancing Christians.

"Men of Granada!" said Boabdil, as soon as the deep and breathless
silence had succeeded to that martial acclamation,--"the advance of the
enemy is to their destruction! In the fire of last night the hand of
Allah wrote their doom. Let us forth, each and all! We will leave our
homes unguarded--our hearts shall be their wall! True, that our numbers
are thinned by famine and by slaughter, but enough of us are yet left
for the redemption of Granada. Nor are the dead departed from us: the
dead fight with us--their souls animate our own. He who has lost a