mansere comae propexaque mento canities pallorque suus, sed falsa cucurrit infula per crines, glaucaeque innexus olivae vittarum provenit honos; dehinc tangere ramo pectora et has visus Fatorum expromere voces: non somni tibi tempus, iners qui nocte sub alta, germani secure, iaces; ingentia dudum acta vocant rerumque graves, ignave, paratus.
His hair remained, as did the white beard combed down from the chin and his own pallor; but a false headband ran through his locks and the grace of fillets entwined with grey olive emerged to view. Then he seemed to touch the kings breast with a branch and utter these words of destiny: No slumber time is this for you who lie sluggish in the depths of night, heedless of your brother.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book2.json