Visus eram molli recubans Heliconis in umbra, Bellerophontei qua fluit umor equi, reges, Alba, tuos et regum facta tuorum, tantum operis, nervis hiscere posse meis; parvaque iam magnis admoram fontibus ora (unde pater sitiens Ennius ante bibit, et cecinit Curios fratres et Horatia pila, regiaque Aemilia vecta tropaea rate, victricisque moras Fabii pugnamque sinistram Cannensem et versos ad pia vota deos, Hannibalemque Lares Romana sede fugantis, anseris et tutum voce fuisse Iovem), cum me Castalia speculans ex arbore Phoebus sic ait aurata nixus ad antra lyra: quid tibi cum tali, demens, est flumine? quis te carminis heroi tangere iussit opus? non hinc ulla tibi sperandast fama, Properti: mollia sunt parvis prata terenda rotis; ut tuus in scamno iactetur saepe libellus, quem legat exspectans sola puella virum.
I dreamed that lying in the soft shade of Helicon, where flows the fountain of Bellerophons horse, I possessed the power to proclaim to my lyres accompaniment Albas kings and their deeds, a mighty task. I had already put my puny lips to that potent spring (whence father Ennius once thirstily drank and sang of the Curian brothers and the spears of the Horatii, and Jupiter saved by the cackling of geese; the victorious delays of Fabius, the calamitous battle of Cannae, gods that turned to answer pious prayers, and Lares that drove off Hannibal from their abode in Rome, and royal trophies transported on Aemilius galleys), when Phoebus observed me from the Castalian wood, and said, as he leaned upon his golden lyre beside the cave: Madman, what business have you at such a stream? Who bade you touch the task of heroic song? Not from here, Propertius, may you hope for any fame: small wheels must run upon soft grass, so that your book be oft paraded on the bench for a lonely girl to read as she awaits her man.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book3.json