illa duces ut primum aspexit Achivos clamorem horrendum luctu furiata resolvit: Argolici proceres, ecquis monstraverit hostem quem peperi? quanam inveniam, mihi dicite, natum sub galea? venit attonitae Cadmeius heros obvius, et raptam lacrimis gaudentibus implet solaturque tenens, atque inter singula matrem, matrem iterat, nunc ipsam urguens, nunc cara sororum pectora, cum mixta fletus anus asperat ira: quid molles lacrimas venerandaque nomina fingis, rex Argive, mihi? quid colla amplexibus ambis invisamque teris ferrato pectore matrem? tune ille exsilio vagus et miserabilis hospes? quem non permoveas? longae tua iussa cohortes exspectant, multoque latus praefulgurat ense.
At first sight of the Achaean leaders, maddened with grief she let loose a dreadful cry: Nobles of Argos, will anyone show me the enemy I bore? Under what helmet, tell me, shall I find my son? The Cadmean hero comes to the distracted woman and takes her, filling her with tears of joy, comforting as he holds her and repeating between this and that Mother, mother, now pressing her to his breast, now his dear sisters. But the aged one embitters her weeping with a dash of anger: Argive king, why feign you tender tears and reverend names for me? Why circle my neck with embraces and hug your hated mother with iron-clad breast? Are you the wandering exile, the pitiable guest? Whom would you not stir to compassion? Long columns await your orders, many swords flash at your side.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book7.json