"O Constantinus, the Ruler of Angels, The Lord of all glory, the Master of heaven's hosts, Claims from thee homage. Be not thou affrighted, Though armies of aliens array them for battle, Though terrible warriors threaten fierce conflict. Look thou to the sky, to the throne of His glory; There seest thou surely the symbol of conquest." _Elene._ Vision of the Cross Constantine looked up as the angel bade him, and saw, hovering in the air, a cross, splendid, glorious, adorned with gems and shining with heavenly light. On its wood letters were engraved, gleaming with unearthly radiance: "With this shalt thou conquer the foe in the conflict, And with it shalt hurl back the host of the heathen." _Elene._ Constantine is Cheered Constantine read these words with awe and gladness, for indeed he knew not what deity had thus favoured him, but he would not reject the help of the Unknown God; so he bowed his head in reverence, and when he looked again the cross and the angel had disappeared, and around him as he woke was the greyness of the rising dawn. The emperor summoned to his tent two soldiers from the troops, and bade them make a cross of wood to bear before the army. This they did, greatly marvelling, and Constantine called a standard-bearer, to whom he gave charge to bear forward the Standard of the Cross where the danger was greatest and the battle most fierce. The Morning of Battle When the day broke, and the two armies could see each other, both hosts arrayed themselves for battle, in serried ranks of armed warriors, shouting their war-cries. "Loud sang the trumpets to stern-minded foemen The dewy-winged eagle watched them march onward, The horny-billed raven rejoiced in the battle-play, The sly wolf, the forest-thief, soon saw his heart's desire As the fierce warriors rushed at each other. Great was the shield-breaking, loud was the clamour, Hard were the hand-blows, and dire was the downfall, When first the heroes felt the keen arrow-shower. Soon did the Roman host fall on the death-doomed Huns, Thrust forth their deadly spears over the yellow shields, Broke with their battle-glaives breasts of the foemen." _Elene._ The Cross is Raised