his anxia mentem aegrescit furiis et, qui castissimus ardor, funus amat; tunc ad comites conversa Pelasgas, vos, ait, Actaeas acies Marathoniaque arma elicite, aspiretque pio Fortuna labori.
Troubled in spirit, she grows sick with her mad thoughts and in love with the dead, the most chaste of passions. Then turning to her Pelasgian companions, Do you, she says, draw out Actaean hosts and Marathonian arms, may Fortune smile on your pious toil.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book12.json