nunc age, nunc totis in me conitere flammis, Iuppiter! an pavidas tonitru turbare puellas fortior et soceri turres exscindere Cadmi? Ingemuit dictis superum dolor; ipse furentem risit et incussa sanctarum mole comarum, quaenam spes hominum tumidae post proelia Phlegrae? tune etiam feriendus? ait.
Come now, strive against me with all your flames, Jupiter! Or are you braver at alarming timid girls with your thunder and razing the towers of your brides father Cadmus? At his words the High Ones grieved and groaned. Himself laughed at the madman, and shaking the mass of his sacred hair What hope, says he, do men have after the battles of presumptious Phlegra? Must I strike you down too?
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book10.json