miratur puerile decus, vultumque comasque aspiciens tune Ausonias ait ibis ad arces neglectus Veneri? tu sordida tecta iugumque servitii vulgare feres? procul absit.
She wonders at his boyish grace, gazing at his face and hair, and Shall you go, she says, neglected of Venus to the Ausonian towers? Shall you bear a mean dwelling and common yoke of servitude? Far be it!
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book3.json