nec quod tibi, Delia, castos prolapsum fontes specula temerare profana heu dominum insani nihil agnovere Molossi, deflerim magis, aut verso quod sanguine fluxit in subitos regina lacus: sic dura Sororum pensa dabant visumque Iovi.
Nor would I more lament, Delia, that mad Molossian hounds knew not their master when he went so far as to profane your chaste waters with his sacrilegious spying or that a queen flowed into a sudden lake, her blood transformed;  the harsh spinning of the Sisters so gave, so willed it Jove.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book3.json