tune, inquit, inertes Inachidas (redde haec Parnasia serta meosque redde deos) tantam patiere amittere noctem, degener? haec egomet caeli secreta vagosque edocui lapsus? vade heia, ulciscere ferro nos saltem! dixit, meque haec ad limina visus cuspide sublata totoque impellere curru.
Will you, he said, allow the sons of Inachus to lose such a night (restore these Parnassian wreaths, restore my gods) in idleness, degenerate? Were these the secrets of the heavens I taught you and the wandering flights? Go, off with you! For me at least take vengeance with the sword. He spoke and seemed to drive me to this door with raised spear and all his chariot.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book10.json