nos, vilis turba, caducis deservire bonis semperque optare parati, spargimur in casus: celsa tu mentis ab arce despicis errantes humanaque gaudia rides.
We, worthless crew, ever ready to serve perishable blessings, ever hoping for more, are scattered to the winds of chance; whereas you from your minds high citadel look down upon our wanderings and laugh at human joys.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book2.json