At tibi quos, inquit, manes, qui limite praeceps non licito per inane ruis? subit ille minantem iam tenuis visu, iam vanescentibus armis, iam pedes: exstincto tamen indecerptus in ore augurii perdurat honos, obscuraque fronti vitta manet, ramumque tenet morientis olivae: si licet et sanctis hic ora resolvere fas est manibus, o cunctis finitor maxime rerum (at mihi, qui quondam causas elementaque noram, et sator), oro, minas stimulataque corda remulce, neve ira dignare hominem et tua iura timentem;.
But for you, he cries, what doom in death, who rush through the void headlong on your unlawful track? The other approaches the threatening god, faint now to see, his arms already fading, already on foot; yet on his perished head still stays the symbol of prophecy that none has plucked away, the fillet remains on his brow, albeit dim, and he holds the branch of dying olive: If it be allowed and lawful for righteous spirits to open their mouths here, O greatest terminator for all that is (but for me, who once knew causes and elements, also creator), relax, I pray, your threats and nettled heart nor deem worthy of your wrath a man and one that fears your laws.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book8.json