eremony.

The flourish of trumpets, the clash of cymbals, and the wild beat of the
tambour, announced the arrival of Alp Arslan from the Serail. An avenue
to the circle had been preserved through the multitude. The royal
procession might be traced as it wound through the populace, by the
sparkling and undulating line of plumes of honour, and the dazzling
forms of the waving streamers, on which were inscribed the names of
Allah and the Prophet. Suddenly, amid the bursts of music, and
the shouts of the spectators, many of whom on the terraces humbled
themselves on their knees, Alp Arslan mounted the throne, around which
ranged themselves his chief captains, and a deputation of the Mullahs,
and Imams, and Cadis, and other principal personages of the city.

The King of Karasme was tall in stature, and somewhat meagre in form. He
was fair, or rather sandy-coloured, with a red beard, and blue eyes,
and a flat nose. The moment he was seated, a trumpet was heard in the
distance from an opposite quarter, and it was soon understood throughout
the assembly that the great captive was about to appear.

A band of Karasmian guards first entered the circle, and ranged
themselves round the cord, with their backs to the spectators. After
them came fifty of the principal Hebrew prisoners, with their hands
bound behind them, but evidently more for form than security. To these
succeeded a small covered wagon drawn by mules, and surrounded by
guards, from which was led forth, his legs relieved from their manacles,
but his hands still in heavy chains, David Alroy!

A universal buzz of blended sympathy, and wonder, and fear, and triumph
arose, throughout the whole assembly. Each man involuntarily stirred.
The vast populace moved to and fro in agitation. His garments soiled and
tattered, his head bare, and his long locks drawn off his forehead, pale
and thin, but still unsubdued, the late conqueror and Caliph of Bagdad
threw around a calm and imperial glance upon those who were but recently
his slaves.

The trumpets again sounded, order was called, and a crier announced that
his Highness Alp Arslan, the mighty Sovereign of Karasme, their Lord,
Protector, and King, and avenger of Allah and the Prophet, against all
rebellious and evil-minded Jews and Giaours, was about to speak. There
was a deep and universal silence, and then sounded a voice high as the
eagle's in a storm.

'David Alroy!' said his conqueror, 'you are brought hither this da