ades huc emissus ab atro limine, cui soli cuncta impetrare facultas, Glaucia (nil sontes animas nec portitor arcet nec durae comes ille serae): tu pectora mulce, tu prohibe manare genas noctesque beatas dulcibus alloquiis et vivis vultibus imple et periisse nega, desolatamque sororem, qui potes, et miseros perge insinuare parentes.
Come hither, dispatched from the dark threshold, you that alone can win all you ask, Glaucias (for neither the ferryman nor the companion of the inexorable bar blocks guiltless souls), soothe his breast, forbid his eyes to flow. Fill nights of bliss with your sweet comfortings and living countenance. Say you have not perished and then commend to him, as only you can, your bereaved sister and unhappy parents.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book2.json