at non magnanimo pietas ignava Lycurgo: fortior illa malis, lacrimasque insana resorbet ira patris; longo rapit arva morantia passu vociferans: illa autem ubinam, cui parva cruoris laetave damna mei? vivitne? impellite raptam, ferte citi comites; faxo omnis fabula Lemni et pater et tumidae generis mendacia sacri exciderint.
But great-hearted Lycurgus love for his son is up and doing. It takes strength from calamity; a fathers furious anger sucks back his tears, and with long strides he despatches the fields that stay him, shouting And where is she to whom spilt blood of mine is a trifle or a pleasure? Does she live? Take her, thrust her, comrades, bring her quickly. I shall make her forget all her rigmarole of Lemnos, and her father, and the lie of race divine that she is so proud of.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book5.json