This done, Aeneas orders, for the close, The strife of archers with contending bows.
T is madness to contend with strength divine.
Stars of their own, and their own suns, they know; Their airy limbs in sports they exercise, And on the green contend the wrestler’s prize.
Then vanquish’d Juno must in vain contend, Her rage disarm’d, her empire at an end.
Here for revenge the Sabine troops contend; The Romans there with arms the prey defend.
One part for peace, and one for war contends; Some would exclude their foes, and some admit their friends.
Besides, if, nine days hence, the rosy morn Shall with unclouded light the skies adorn, That day with solemn sports I mean to grace: Light galleys on the seas shall run a wat’ry race; Some shall in swiftness for the goal contend, And others try the twanging bow to bend; The strong, with iron gauntlets arm’d, shall stand Oppos’d in combat on the yellow sand.
In equal arms let us alone contend; And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.
Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend In arms with that inexorable fiend?
Turnus, I know you think me not your friend, Nor will I much with your belief contend: I beg your greatness not to give the law In others’ realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.
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Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend, And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats, With a red deluge, their increasing moats.
The prince then call’d Achates, to supply The spears that knew the way to victory"Those fatal weapons, which, inur’d to blood, In Grecian bodies under Ilium stood: Not one of those my hand shall toss in vain Against our foes, on this contended plain."
A lawful time of war at length will come, (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom), When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome, Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.
As wintry winds, contending in the sky, With equal force of lungs their titles try: They rage, they roar; the doubtful rack of heav’n Stands without motion, and the tide undriv’n: Each bent to conquer, neither side to yield, They long suspend the fortune of the field.
But, if we still have fresh recruits in store, If our confederates can afford us more; If the contended field we bravely fought, And not a bloodless victory was bought; Their losses equal’d ours; and, for their slain, With equal fires they fill’d the shining plain; Why thus, unforc’d, should we so tamely yield, And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?
"Thus, when the rival winds their quarrel try, Contending for the kingdom of the sky, South, east, and west, on airy coursers borne; The whirlwind gathers, and the woods are torn: Then Nereus strikes the deep; the billows rise, And, mix’d with ooze and sand, pollute the skies.