Quid tibi constrata mansuescere profuit ira, quid scelus humanasque animo dediscere caedes imperiumque pati et domino parere minori? quid quod abire domo rursusque in claustra reverti suetus et a capta iam sponte recedere praeda insertasque manus laxo dimittere morsu? occidis, altarum vastator docte ferarum, non grege Massylo curvaque indagine clausus, non formidato supra venabula saltu incitus aut caeco foveae deceptus hiatu, sed victus fugiente fera.
What has it availed you to soothe your rage and grow tame? To unlearn crime and human slaughter, to suffer command and obey a lesser master? To have grown used to leave your home and return again to prison, to retire of your own will from prey already captured, to loosen your jaws and let go the hand inside? You are slain, educated ravager of tall beasts. You were not hemmed in by a Massylian band and a cunning net nor plunging over hunting spears in a fearsome leap nor deceived by a pits hidden cavity, but vanquished by a fleeing beast.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book2.json