optima nutricum nostris, lupa Martia, rebus, qualia creverunt moenia lacte tuo! moenia namque pio coner disponere versu: ei mihi, quod nostrost parvus in ore sonus! sed tamen exiguo quodcumque e pectore rivi fluxerit, hoc patriae serviet omne meae.
She-wolf of Mars, best of nurses for our fortunes, what walls have sprung up from your milk! For I would fain lay out those walls in duteous verse: ah me, that a voice so feeble sits upon my lips! But still, whatever the stream that gushes forth from my puny breast, the whole of it shall be given to the service of my country.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book4.json