‘O Paradise! how close thou couchest beneath the arrow’s point and the falchion’s flash! O Hâshim! even now I see heaven opened, and black-eyed maidens, all bridally attired, clasping thee in their fond embrace!’[535] So, singing, and refreshing himself with his favourite draught of milk and water, the aged warrior, fired again with the ardour of youth, rushed into the enemy’s ranks, and met the envied fate. It had long been in everyone’s mouth both in town and camp, that Mahomet had once said to him: ‘By a godless and rebellious race, O Ammâr, thou shalt one day be slain;’ in other words (so the saying was interpreted), Ammâr would be killed fighting on the side of right. Thus his death, as it were, condemned the cause of the ranks against whom he fought; and so it spread dismay in Muâvia’s host. When Amru heard of it, he answered readily: ‘And who is it that hath killed Ammâr, but Aly the “rebellious,” that brought him hither?’ The clever repartee ran through the Syrian host, and did much at once to efface the evil omen.[536] [Sidenote: Battle still rages on morning of third day, 13 Safar, July 31.] The fighting this day was in real earnest, and the carnage on both sides great. Darkness failed to separate the combatants; and, like Câdesîya, that night was called a second ‘Night of Clangour.’ The morning broke on the two armies still in conflict. With emptied quivers they now fought hand to hand. Ashtar, the regicide, resolved on victory at whatever cost, continued to push the attack with unflinching bravery and persistence. Muâvia, disheartened, began to speak to Amru of proposing to Aly a judicial combat, Goliath-like, with a champion on either side. ‘Then go forth thyself, and challenge Aly,’ said Amru. ‘Not so,’ answered Muâvia; ‘I will not do that, for Aly ever slayeth his man, and then _thou_ shouldest succeed me.’ Amru, indeed, well knew that this was not in Muâvia’s line; and it was no time for continuing grim pleasantry like this. [Sidenote: Hostilities suspended for arbitration by Corân.] All at once Amru bethought him of a stratagem. ‘Raise aloft the sacred leaves of the Corân,’ he cried; ‘if any refuse to abide thereby, it will sow discord amongst them; if they accept, it will be a reprieve from cruel slaughter.’ Muâvia caught at the words. And so forthwith they fixed the sacred scrolls on the points of their lances, and raising them aloft, called out along the line of battle: ‘The law of the Lord! The law of the Lord! Let it decide between us!’ No sooner heard, than the men of Kûfa leaped forward, re-echoing the cry: ‘The law of the Lord, that shall decide between us!’ As all were shouting thus with one accord, Aly stepped forth and expostulated with them: ‘It was the device,’ he cried, ‘of evil men; afraid of defeat, they sought their end by guile, and cloaked rebellion under love of the Word.’ It was all in vain. To every argument they answered (and the ‘Readers’ loudest of all): ‘We are