tum quassans caput haec effundit pectore dicta: heu stirpem invisam et fatis contraria nostris fata Phrygum! num Sigeis occumbere campis, num capti potuere capi? num incensa cremavit Troia viros? medias acies mediosque per ignis invenere viam.
then, shaking her head, pours forth from her breast these words: Ah! hated race, and Phrygian fates that cross my own! Could they not have perished on the Sigean plains? Captured, could they not have suffered captivity? Did the fires of Troy consume them? No! through the midst of armies, through the midst of flames, they have found a way.