Quis deus, o Musae, paribus tot funera verbis evolvat? tantisque umbris in carmine digna quis lamenta ferat? certantes laude cadendi primaevos iuvenes mortisque in limine cruda facta virum et fixis rabiem sub pectore telis? sternitur alternus vastis concursibus hostis, nec spoliare vacat praedaeque advertere mentem.
Ye Muses, what god could narrate so many deaths in fitting language? What poet could utter a dirge worthy of the mighty dead? Who could tell of the striplings contending with one another for the prize of death; of the brave deeds done on the brink of the grave; of the fury that filled breasts pierced with wounds? Foe clashed furiously against foe and fell; and none found time to spoil his victim or think of plunder.
final_alignments\Silius_Italicus_Punica_Book5.json