iam frondea nutant culmina, iam muri, ripisque Ismenos apertis effugit; exciderunt irae, nutantia figunt tela solo, dubiasque vagi nituntur in hastas comminus inque vicem viso pallore recedunt.
Now the leafy summits nod, now the walls, and Ismenos flees through opening banks. Wrath is forgotten, they fix their nodding weapons in the ground or wandering lean on their unsteady spears as they come face to face and both draw back seeing each others pallor.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book7.json