And whilst the Christian people stood in this uncertainty, Upward toward heaven they turned their eyes and fixed their thoughts on high; And there two persons they beheld, all beautiful and bright,-- Even than the pure new-fallen snow their garments were more white. They rode upon two horses more white than crystal sheen, And arms they bore such as before no mortal man had seen. * * * * * Their faces were angelical, celestial forms had they,-- And downward through the fields of air they urged their rapid way; They looked upon the Moorish host with fierce and angry look, And in their hands, with dire portent, their naked sabres shook. The Christian host, beholding this, straightway take heart again; They fall upon their bended knees, all resting on the plain, And each one with his clenched fist to smite his breast begins, And promises to God on high he will forsake his sins. And when the heavenly knights drew near unto the battle-ground, They dashed among the Moors and dealt unerring blows around; Such deadly havoc there they made the foremost ranks among, A panic terror spread unto the hindmost of the throng. Together with these two good knights, the champions of the sky, The Christians rallied and began to smite full sore and high. * * * * * Down went the misbelievers; fast sped the bloody fight; Some ghastly and dismembered lay, and some half-dead with fright: Full sorely they repented that to the field they came, For they saw that from the battle they should retreat with shame. * * * * * Now he that bore the crosier, and the papal crown had on, Was the glorified Apostle, the brother of Saint John; And he that held the crucifix, and wore the monkish hood, Was the holy San Millan of Cogolla's neighborhood. Turn now to the _Battle of the Lake Regillus_. In a series of desperate hand-to-hand conflicts the Romans have on the whole been worsted by the allied Thirty Cities, armed to reinstate the Tarquins upon their lost throne. Their most vaunted champion, Herminius--"who kept the bridge so well"--has been slain, and his war-horse, black Auster, has barely been rescued by the dictator Aulus from the hands of Titus, the youngest of the Tarquins. And Aulus the Dictator Stroked Auster's raven mane; With heed he looked unto the girths, With heed unto the rein. "Now bear me well, black Auster, Into yon thick array; And thou and I will have revenge For thy good lord this day." So spake he; and was buckling Tighter black Auster's band, When he was aware of a princely pair That rode at his right hand. So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know: White as snow their armor was: Their steeds were white as snow. Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armor gleam; And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream.