Cross and pray Almighty God for salvation from the mighty foe. He would
recall the great victory and the cross-shaped church built to
commemorate it. He knew well the honour of the Cross. He had often knelt
to adore what it symbolised, when he saw it raised on high, lifted up on
the Church's Festival. And he loved the Cross with a great and fervid
love.

The poem of his making tells us how the great army of the Huns and
Goths[E] came against Constantine; how the warriors marched on, having
raised the standard of war with shoutings and the clashing of shields.
Bright shone their darts and their coats of linked mail. The wolf in the
wood howled out the song of war; he kept not the secret of the
slaughter. The dewy-feathered eagle raised a song on the track of the
foe.

[Footnote E: This, of course, is unhistorical.]

The King of the Romans was sorrow-smitten when he saw the countless host
of the foreign men upon the river-bank. In his sleep that night came the
vision of one in the likeness of a man, white and bright of hue. The
messenger named him by his name. The helmet of night glided apart. The
behest was given to look up to Heaven to find help, a token of victory.
The Emperor's heart was opened and he looked up as the angel, the
lovely weaver of peace, had bidden him. Above the roof of clouds he saw
the Tree of Glory with its words of promise. The great battle came, when
the Holy Sign was borne forth. Loud sang the trumpets. The raven was
glad thereof, and the dewy-feathered eagle looked on at the march, and
the wolf lifted up his howling. The terror of war was there, the clash
of shields and the mingling of men, and the heavy sword-swing and the
felling of warriors.