septimus hic celsis descendit montibus auster iamque ratem Scythicis forsan statuisset in oris; nos patriae immemores, maneant ceu nulla revectos gaudia, sed duro saevae sub rege Mycenae, ad medium cunctamur iter.
Now for the seventh day is the south wind blowing from the hills, and would perchance have already beached our ship on the Scythian shores; but we, forgetting our home, as though no joys awaited our return but a cruel king in pitiless Mycenae, are halting in mid course
final_alignments\Valerius_Flaccus_Argonautica_Book3.json