Cum pressus ab hoste — Siege

"Their targets in a tortoise cast, the foes, Secure advancing, to the turrets rose: Some mount the scaling-ladders; some, more bold, Swerve upwards, and by posts and pillars hold: Their left hand gripes their bucklers in the ascent, While with the right they seize the battlement. From the demolished towers, the Trojans throw Huge heaps of stones, that, falling, crush the foe: And heavy beams and rafters from the sides, (Such arms their last necessity provides!) And gilded roofs, come tumbling from on high, The marks of state, and ancient royalty. The guards below, fixed in the pass, attend The charge undaunted, and the gate defend. Renewed in courage with recovered breath, A second time we ran to tempt our death, To clear the palace from the foe, succeed The weary living, and revenge the dead."

"To scale a castle-wall, Besiege a fort, to undermine a town, And make whole cities caper in the air."

"Corpses across the threshold; heroes tall Dislodging pinnacle and parapet Upon the tortoise creeping to the wall; Lances in ambush set."

"The stress and strain of siege Prove the true metal and detect the base. But slur not Capua; for each counterfeit, Whose soul is in his purse, or in his mouth, We have a hundred hearts of steel, resolved To fire our temples, ere we yield our towers. We are in straits; but think ye that in Rome They walk on roses; where they melt their Gods In change for stores of rotten grain that sink In crazy vessels? In a mortal strife He wins who can endure to suffer most."

"As when it happ’neth that some lovely towne, Unto a barbarous besieger falles, Who there by sword and flame himselfe enstalles, And, cruell, it in teares and blood doth drowne; Her beauty spoyl’d, her citizens made thralles, His spight yet so cannot her all throw downe, But that some statue, arch, phan of renowne Yet lurkes unmaym’d within her weeping walles: So, after all the spoile, disgrace, and wrake, That time, the world, and death could bring combin’d, Amidst that masse of ruines they did make, Safe and all scarre-lesse yet remaines my minde: From this so high transcending rapture springes, That I, all else defac’d, not envie kinges."