ut vero amentibus ipse incidit et sacrae circum fastigia vallis turbine praevectus rapido ter sustulit hastam, ter concussit equos, clipeum ter pectore plausit: arma, arma insani sua quisque ignotaque nullo more rapit, mutant galeas alienaque cogunt ad iuga cornipedes; ferus omni in pectore saevit mortis amor caedisque, nihil flagrantibus obstat: praecipitant redimuntque moras.
But when he  comes upon the maddened army in his own person, when, carried around the heights of the sacred valley in a rapid whirl, he thrice lifts his spear, thrice strikes his steeds, thrice slaps shield against chest, in wild disorder each man snatches arms, arms, whether his own or a strangers; they change helmets and drive horses into yokes not theirs. Fierce love of death and slaughter rages in every breast and nothing stands in their passions way; they plunge, making up for their delay.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book7.json