ille ego cum tristi morbo defessa iaceres te dicor votis eripuisse meis; ipseque te circum lustravi sulpure puro, carmine cum magico praecinuisset anus; ipse procuravi, ne possent saeva nocere somnia, ter sancta deveneranda mola;.
It was I, they say, whose vows snatched thee from peril when thou layest exhausted in sickness gloomy hold. It was I that scattered all about thee the cleansing sulphur, the beldame first chaunting her magic spell. I appeased the cruel Dreams that had thrice to be propitiated with offering of holy meal, that they might work no harm.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json