tunc circumfusam vultu exultante coronam respiciens alacris media inter milia clamat: solvite procinctum, iusti, et discedite ab armis! causa mali tanti iacet interfecta; lucrandi ingluvie pereunte licet requiescere sanctis.
Then with a look of exultation she turns her eyes on the ring around her and eagerly calls out amid the thousands: Doff your armour, ye upright, and lay your weapons aside. The cause of all our ill lies slain. Now that the lust of gain is dead, the pure may rest.
final_alignments\Prudentius_Psychomachia.json