Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra; a tale of the Roman Empire in the days of the Emperor Aurelian . Ben Gorah!Solomon was not more wise. His words are arrows withtwo heads from a golden bow. His reasons weigh as themountains of Lebanon. They break and crush all on whomthey fall. Would, Eoman, they might some time fall onthee! The third day we were on this barren region, and thenext fairly upon the desert. Now did we reap the benefitof our good beasts. The heat was like that of the furnaceof Nebuchadnezzar, out of which the three children, Shad-rach, Meshach, and Abednego, came, through the powerof God
Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra; a tale of the Roman Empire in the days of the Emperor Aurelian . Ben Gorah!Solomon was not more wise. His words are arrows withtwo heads from a golden bow. His reasons weigh as themountains of Lebanon. They break and crush all on whomthey fall. Would, Eoman, they might some time fall onthee! The third day we were on this barren region, and thenext fairly upon the desert. Now did we reap the benefitof our good beasts. The heat was like that of the furnaceof Nebuchadnezzar, out of which the three children, Shad-rach, Meshach, and Abednego, came, through the powerof God, unscorched. And moreover, they were soon put toan unwonted and unlooked-for burden, and in such manneras to thy wonder I shall relate. It was a day, the air of which was like the air of thatfurnace, — burning, burning hot. Death was written uponthe whole face of the visible earth. Where leaves had been,there were none now, or they crumbled into ashes as thehand touched them. The atmosphere, when moved by thewind, brought not, as it used to do, a greater coolness, but Syrian TIDIKGS OF CALPUENIUS. 167 a fiercer heat. It was full of flickering waves that dancedup and down with a quivering motion, and dazzled andblinded the eye that looked upon them. And often thesand was not like that which, for the most part, is met withon that desert stretching from the Mediterranean to Pal-myra, and of which thou hast had some experience — heavyand hard and seamed with cracks — but fine and light andraised into clouds by every breath of wind, and driven intothe skin like points of needles. When the wind, as fre-quently it did, blew with violence, we could only stop andbury our faces in our garments, our poor beasts crying outwith pain. It was on such a day, having, because therewas no place of rest, been obliged to endure all the noondayheat, that when the sun was at the highest, and when welooked eagerly every way for even a dry and leafless bushthat we might crouch down ben
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1868
