Were any contest ever as great as this,
A gathering of Knights
All yclad in brightest armour, polished steele and brightest greaves,
Then would we call that Contest a lie;
For never Knights could match these names,
Few warriors claim
To reach that fame
For Whome nothing is denied.
Brandishing Ulysses’ bow and Achilleus’ spear,
Brave HOMER rides upon his horse.
With winged voice piercing the air
Lo! comes the father of all wars.
But there is one to match his boasts
And earn his people’s trust;
Javelin in hand, he now arose;
The crowd cheered for sir VERGILIUS.
But now comes gentillest of Knights,
Saint “Africanus” called,
For never shined a greater light
Than SCIPIO within Rome’s walls.
ALEXANDER and his sword
Now burst out onto field—
Stronger arm and stronger word
Did never a man wield.
But now, be still, o restless crowd
For brave these Knights may be,
Braver still it will be showed
What form true power be.
For all these Knights shall be brought low,
And all their strength for naught,
For only OVID among them knows
That never battle has been fought
And lost by Eros’ golden arrow.
And so, calmly now he rides
Into the midst of battle-tide,
For in his eyes, the battle’s won;
Knowing he’s Cupid’s Champion.
