et nunc limite me colis beato nec sordere sinis malumque late deterges sterilis soli pudorem, ne me pulvereum gravemque caeno Tyrrheni sinus obluat profundi (qualis Cinyphius tacente ripa Poenos Bagrada serpit inter agros), sed talis ferar ut nitente cursu tranquillum mare proximumque possim puro gurgite provocare Lirim.
And now you tend me with a copious channel nor let me lie in squalor, and broadly wipe away the sorry shame of barren soil, so that the gulf of the Tyrrhene sea does not wash against my sandy, mud-heavy current, even as Cinyphian Bagrada glides by his silent banks amid Punic fields, but I so flow that I can challenge the smooth sea with my shining course and neighboring Liris with my limpid stream.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book4.json