Soon as he saw Maxentius halt,

As fain to bide the last assault,
Shook tauntingly the blazoned sign,

And spurring out before his train,
Shouted his banner-cry amain,

'Strike for the Cross and Constantine!"

X.

As though he shared his master's mood,
All motionless the black steed stood,
The current of his generous blood

Swelled out the net-work of each vein,
O'er his curved neck in fierce disdain ·
Backward he flung his bristling mane,

And wide his nostril spread;

Say, will he wait till front to front

The champions meet in deadly brunt ?—

A moment-and their swords had crossed ;

Just then aloft the banner tossed

With lurid and portentous light,

Like levin-brand intensely bright,

Flashed full upon his blasted sight

The cross of fiery red.

Erect he reared, with shrilly neigh;

There!-there!-the faithless bank gives way !

The water, in its shade that lay,

Was deep and dark as death,

And backward down the sheer descents

Together steed and rider went :

Each gazer held his breath,

Watching, along the sullen flood,

The long dark line of oozy mud

That marked their course beneath;

They watched in vain,—nor sight, nor sound, Broke upward from the dim profound;

No token of the helmless head;

No sign of the black steed; no shred
Of cloak or housing rose to view :
The stream regained its sallow huc,
And with their old dull dreary tone,

All sign of recent tumult gone,

Its melancholy waves rolled on.—

XI.

Turn over the blood-stained page,

And away from the battle plain ;-

We have cleared for a gentler scene the stage,

And we waken a happier strain.

With the fragrant breezes blending,

Hark to the voice of joy ascending!

They come they come! make room before them!

Victory waves her pinions o'er them!
Marshalled they come in proud array,

But none shall bar their course to day;

And the glittering spear and the glancing plume
Display war's grandeur without its gloom;
And the trumpet notes, as they melt on the ear,
Have nothing of menace, and nothing of fear;
Before the host, like a foam-wreath white

That crests the breakers' brow of might,

A choir of virgins, four and four,

On high the sacred banner bore;

And groups of children strewed the way
With blossoms as fresh and as fair as they.

Next these, in gorgeous car of state,

The Hero of the pageant sat,

His surcoat was wrought with the cross of red,

And the laurel his helmet garlanded;

Four steeds by silken reins controlled,

In housings of purple fringed with gold,
Timing their pace to measured song,

Drew the triumphal pomp along;

And far and wide as eye may ken,
Heaved its dark surges the sea of men :

The city looks out from all her towers

To welcome the glorious show,

And as in the human torrent pours,

It seemed as though the sky rained flowers

On those who marched below.

XII.

The foremost now their

way

have won

To where an altar and a throne,

Raised hastily in open air,

O'erlooked the Forum's crowded square; To right and left with graceful sweep They formed in circle broad and deep : Down from his car of pride

The victor chief descended,

He laid the laurel crown aside,

And low at the altar bended;

And standing at his sovereign's side

The Christian priest attended.—

Pervaded by an awful thrill

The mighty multitude stood still;

And as the breeze in silence borne

Moves o'er the bending fields of corn, So, by one influence swayed, the crowd Their heads in adoration bowed.