sed me pietas numerare dolorque non sinit, o Pylias aevi transcendere metas et Teucros aequare senes, o digne videre me similem! sed nec leti tibi ianua tristis; quippe leves causae, nec segnis labe senili exitus instanti praemisit membra sepulchro, sed te torpor iners et mors imitata quietem explicuit falsoque tulit sub Tartara somno.
But love and grief forbid me to count, O worthy to transcend the Pylian goals of life and equal Teucrian ancients, worthy to see me in your semblance! And yet the door of Death held no sadness for you: for the causes were light, no lingering departure sent your body in senile decay ahead to the impending tomb; a lazy lethargy, a death disguised as sleep stretched you out, bearing you to Tartarus in the guise of slumber.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book5.json