Canto 1

Whén had elapsed in course of years
Two hundred and three, reckoned by number,
And thirty alsó, in measure of time,
Of winters for th' world, since mighty God
Became incarnate, of kings the Glory,
Upón mid-earth in human form,
Light of the righteous; then sixth was the year
Of Constantine's imperial sway,
Since hé o'er the realm of the Roman people,
The battle-prince, as ruler was raised.
The ward of his folk, skilful with shield,
Was gracious to earls. Strong grew the ætheling's
Might 'neath the heavens. Hé was true king,
War-keeper of men. God him strengthened
With honor and might, that to many became he
Throughoút this earth to men a joy,
To nations a vengeance, when weapon he raised
Against his foes. Him battle was offered,
Tumult of war. A host was assembled,
Folk of the Huns and fame-loving Goths;
War-brave they went, the Franks and the Hugs.
Bold were the men [in battle-byrnies, Gn.],
Ready for war. Bright shone the spears,
The ringéd corselets. With shouts and shields
They hoisted the standards. The heroes were there
Plainly assembled, and [host, Gn.] all together.
The multitude marched. A war-song howled
The wolf in the wood, war-secret concealed not;
The dew-feathered eagle uplifted his song
On the trail of his foes. Hastened quickly
O'er cities of giants the greatest of war-hosts
In bands to battle, such as king of the Huns
Of dwellers-around anywhere might,
Of city-warriors, assemble to war.
Went greatest of armies,--the footmen were strengthened
With chosen bands,--till in foreign land
The fighters-with-darts upón the Danube's
Bank were encamping, the brave in heart,
'Round the welling of waters, with tumult of host.
The realm of the Romans they wished to oppress,
With armies destroy. Thére was Huns' coming
Known to the people. Then bade the Cæsar
Against the foes his comrades in war
'Neath arrow-flight in greatest haste
Gather for fight, form battle-array
The heroes 'neath heavens. The Romans were,
Men famed for victory, quickly prepared
With weapons for war, though lesser army
Had théy for the battle than king of the Huns.
They rode 'round the valiant: then rattled the shield,
The war-wood clanged: the king with host marched,
With army to battle. Aloft sang the raven,
Dark and corpse-gréedy. The band was in motion.
The horn-bearers blew, the heralds called,
Steed stamped the earth. The host assembled
Quickly for contest. The king was affrighted,
With terror disturbed, after the strangers,
The Huns' and Hreths' hóst they observed,
That it on the Romans' kingdom's border
'Round the bank of the river a band assembled,
A countless crowd. Heart-sorrow bore
The Romans' ruler, of realm he hoped not
For want of force; had warriors too few,
Trusty comrades, 'gainst th' overmight
Of the brave for battle. The army encamped,
The earls 'round the ætheling nigh to the river
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,
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
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,
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
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,
The glittering tree with letters was written
Of brightness and light: "With this beacon thou
On the dangerous journey wilt the foe overcome,
The loathly host let." The light then departed,
Ascended on high, and the messenger too,
To the realm of the pure. The king was the blither
And freer from sorrow, chieftain of men,
In thoughts of his soul, for thát fair sight.