In neighboring plain a night-long time,
After force of their foes they first beheld.
Thén in his sleep was shown to him,
To the Cæsar himself where he slept 'mid his men, 70
By the victory-famed seen, a vision of dream.
Effulgent it seemed him, in form of a man,
White and hue-bright, some one of heroes
More splendid appeared than ere or since
He saw 'neath the heavens. From sleep he awaked 75
With boar-sign bedecked. The messenger quickly,
Bright herald of glory, to him made address
And called him by name (the night-veil vanished):
"To thee, Constantine, bade King of the angels,
Wielder of fates, his favor grant, 80
The Lord of Hosts. Fear not for thyself,
Though thee the strangers threaten with terror,
With battle severe. Look thou to heaven,
To the Lord of glory: there help wilt thou find,
A token of victory." Soon was he ready 85
At hest of the holy, his heart-lock unloosed,
Upwards he looked as the messenger bade him,
Trusty peace-wéaver. He saw bright with gems
Fair rood of glory o'er roof of the clouds
Adorned with gold: the jewels shone, 90
The glittering tree with letters was written
Of brightness and light: "With this beacon thou
On the dangerous journey[8] wilt the foe overcome,
The loathly host let." The light then departed,
Ascended on high, and the messenger too, 95
To the realm of the pure. The king was the blither