o quam divitiis censuque exutus opimo fortior, Urse, fores! si vel fumante ruina ructassent dites Vesuvina incendia Locroe seu Pollentinos mersissent flumina saltus seu Lucanus Acir seu Thybridis impetus altas in dextrum torsisset aquas, paterere serena fronte deos, sive alma fidem messesque negasset Cretaque Cyreneque et qua tibi cumque beato larga redit Fortuna sinu.
Ah, how much braver, Ursus, would you be had you been stripped of your opulence and ample fortune! If wealthy Locri had belched Vesuvian fire in smoking avalanche, or rivers had submerged Pollentian glades, or Lucanian Acir or Tibers rush had turned deep waters to the right, you would have endured the gods with unruffled brow; or if nurturing Crete and Cyrene had denied their pledged harvests or any place else where bounteous Fortune returns to you with plenteous bosom.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book2.json