stabuntne sub illa mole umeri an magno vincetur pondere cervix? dic, Marcelle, feram? fluctus an sueta minores nosse ratis nondum Ioniis credenda periclis? Iamque vale et penitus noti tibi vatis amorem corde exire veta.
Will my shoulders hold fast under such a mass, or will my neck sink beneath the mighty load? Say, Marcellus, shall I bear it? Or is my ship, accustomed to sail lesser seas, not yet to be trusted to the perils of the Ionian? And now farewell, and let not affection for the poet you know so well pass from your heart.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book4.json