quid iuvenis, magnum cui versat in ossibus ignem durus amor? nempe abruptis turbata procellis nocte natat caeca serus freta; quem super ingens porta tonat caeli, et scopulis inlisa reclamant aequora; nec miseri possunt revocare parentes, nec moritura super crudeli funere virgo.
What of the youth, in whose marrow fierce Love fans the mighty flame? Lo! in the turmoil of bursting storms, late in the black night, he swims the straits. Above him thunders Heavens mighty portal, and the billows, dashing on the cliffs, echo the cry; yet neither his hapless parent can call him back, nor thought of the maiden doomed to die on his untimely corpse.
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json