Postquam rite diu partiti sidera cunctas perlegere animis oculisque sequacibus auras, tunc Amythaonius longo post tempore vates: nonne sub excelso spirantis limite caeli, Amphiara, vides, cursus ut nulla serenos ales agat liquidoque polum complexa meatu pendeat aut fugiens placabile clanxerit omen? non comes obscurus tripodum, non fulminis ardens vector adest, flavaeque sonans avis unca Minervae non venit auguriis melior; quin vultur et altis desuper accipitres exsultavere rapinis.
After they had duly apportioned the stars and long scrutinized all the air with their minds and close-following eyes, then at last spoke Amythaons prophet son: See you not, Amphiaraus, how beneath the lofty boundary of the breathing sky no winged creature plies a tranquil course or hangs circling the heavens in liquid flight or screams a kindly omen as it flees? No dark companion of the tripods, no fiery bearer of the thunderbolt is at hand, no hooked and hooting fowl of blond Minerva comes with favouring augury.  Nay, vultures and hawks exult from above in their lofty plunder.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book3.json