Parce meo iuveni, seu quis bona pascua campi seu colis umbrosi devia montis aper, nec tibi sit duros acuisse in proelia dentes; incolumem custos hunc mihi servet Amor.
Boar, spare the youth I love, whether thy haunt is the plains fair pastures or the deep woodland of the hills, nor think it thy part to whet thy hard tusks for the fray. Let Love be his guard and keep him safe for me.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json