Crimine quo merui, iuvenis, placidissime divum, quove errore miser donis ut solus egerem, Somne, tuis? tacet omne pecus volucresque feraeque et simulant fessos curvata cacumina somnos, nec trucibus fluviis idem sonus; occidit horror aequoris et terris maria acclinata quiescunt.
For what cause, youthful Sleep, kindest of the gods, or what error have I alone deserved, alas, to lack your boon? All cattle are mute and birds and beasts, and the nodding treetops feign weary slumbers, and the raging rivers abate their roar; the ruffling of the waves subsides, the sea is still, leaning against the shore.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book5.json