quis cladem illius noctis, quis funera fando explicet aut possit lacrimis aequare labores? urbs antiqua ruit, multos dominata per annos; plurima perque vias sternuntur inertia passim corpora perque domos et religiosa deorum limina.
Who could unfold in speech that nights havoc? Who its carnage? Who could match our toils with tears? The ancient city falls, for many years a queen; in heaps lifeless corpses lie scattered amid the streets, amid the homes and hallowed portals of the gods.
final_alignments\Virgil_Aeneid_Book2.json