o pereant silvae deficiantque canes! quis furor est, quae mens densos indagine colles claudentem teneras laedere velle manus? quidve iuvat furtim latebras intrare ferarum candidaque hamatis crura notare rubis? sed tamen, ut tecum liceat, Cerinthe, vagari, ipsa ego per montes retia torta feram, ipsa ego velocis quaeram vestigia cervi et demam celeri ferrea vincla cani.
Oh that woods might wither and dogs be extinct! How mad, how senseless is this whim to hurt soft hands, setting the tinchel round the thick-clad hills! What pleasure is it to steal into the lairs of wild beasts and to score thy white legs with the brambles barbs? Yet still, Cerinthus, so I may share thy roamings, I will myself carry the twisted nets across the fells, myself follow the tracks of the fleet deer and undo the iron collar of the rushing hound.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json