The
daring march from Gaul to Illyricum is told with immense spirit; but
the account of Julian's final campaign and death in Persia is still
better, and can hardly be surpassed. It has every merit of clearness
and rapidity, yet is full of dignity, which culminates in this fine
passage referring to the night before the emperor received his mortal
wound.
"While Julian struggled with the almost insuperable
difficulties of his situation, the silent hours of the night
were still devoted to study and contemplation. Whenever he
closed his eyes in short and interrupted slumbers, his mind
was agitated by painful anxiety; nor can it be thought
surprising that the Genius of the empire should once more
appear before him, covering with a funereal veil his head
and his horn of abundance, and slowly retiring from the
Imperial tent. The monarch started from his couch, and,
stepping forth to refresh his wearied spirits with the
coolness of the midnight air, he beheld a fiery meteor,
which shot athwart the sky and suddenly vanished. Julian was
convinced that he had seen the menacing countenance of the
god of war: the council which he summoned, of Tuscan
Haruspices, unanimously pronounced that he should abstain
from action; but on this occasion necessity and reason were
more prevalent than superstition, and the trumpets sounded
at the break of day.
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