an nihil ille miser meruit, nos ad mala nostra vertimus, in saevas quod dedit ille feras? divitis hoc vitium est auri, nec bella fuerunt, faginus astabat cum scyphus ante dapes.
But perhaps, poor wretch, he is to blame in nothing, but we turn to our mischief what he gave us to use against the savage wild beast. This is the curse of precious gold; nor were there wars when the cup of beechwood stood beside mens food.
final_alignments\Tibullus_Elegies.json