hic Phrygiam vestem et bacatum induta monile, postquam illum infelix hausit, quo munera primum sunt conspecta, diem et convivia mente reduxit festasque adventu mensas teque ordine Troiae narrantem longos, se pervigilante, labores, in portus amens rorantia lumina flexit: di longae noctis, quorum iam numina nobis mors instans maiora facit, precor, inquit, adeste et placidi victos ardore admittite manes.
Next she put on the robe from Troy and the necklace of pearls; she drank in, poor wretch, the memory of that day when she first saw those gifts; she recalled the banquet and the feast that greeted your arrival, when you told in order the long agony of Troy, and she sat late to hear you. Then in distraction she turned her weeping eyes to the harbour. Ye gods of endless night, she cried, whose power seems greater to one at the point of death, help me, I pray, and give a kindly welcome to a spirit that love has conquered.
final_alignments\Silius_Italicus_Punica_Book8.json