ast ubi pugna cassis anhela calet, resoluto vertice nudus exoritur: tunc dulce comae radiisque trementes dulce nitent visus et, quas dolet ipse morari, nondum mutatae rosea lanugine malae.
But when his panting casque grows hot with battle, he frees his head and rises bare. Then his locks shine sweetly and sweetly his eyes in their tremulous radiance and his cheeks whose tardiness vexes himself, not yet changed by rosy down.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book9.json