marching against a king; but this is a matter for general assent and
grave forethought."

Before any other (for ideas did not rush at once to words in those
days) found his tongue, a mighty uproar was heard without. It did not
syllable itself into distinct sound; it uttered no name; it was such a
shout as numbers alone could raise; and to such a shout would some
martial leader have rejoiced to charge to battle, so full of depth and
fervour, and enthusiasm and good heart, it seemed, leaping from rank
to rank, from breast to breast, from earth to heaven. With one accord
the startled captains made to the entrance of the tent, and there they
saw, in the broad space before them, inclosed by the tents which were
grouped in a wide semicircle,--for the mass of the hardy rebel army
slept in the open air, and the tents were but for leaders,--they saw,
we say, in that broad space, a multitude kneeling, and in the midst,
upon his good steed Saladin, bending graciously down, the martial
countenance, the lofty stature, of the Earl of Warwick. Those among
the captains who knew him not personally recognized him by the popular
description,--by the black war-horse, whose legendary fame had been
hymned by every minstrel; by the sensation his appearance had created;
by the armourial insignia of his heralds, grouped behind him, and
whose gorgeous tabards blazed with his cognizance and quarterings in
azure, or, and argent. The sun was slowly setting, and poured its
rays upon the bare head of the mighty noble, gathering round it in the
hazy atmosphere like a halo. The homage of the crowd to that single
form, unarmed, and scarce attended, struck a death-knell to the hopes
of Hilyard,--struck awe into all his comrades! The presence of that
one man seemed to ravish from them, as by magic, a vast army; power,
and state, and command left them suddenly to be absorbed in HIM!
Captains, they were troopless,--the wielder of men's hearts was