fatalem populis ultro poscentibus horam admovet atra dies, Stygiisque emissa tenebris Mors fruitur caelo bellatoremque volando campum operit nigroque viros invitat hiatu, nil vulgare legens, sed quae dignissima vita funera, praecipuos annis animisque, cruento ungue notat: iamque in miseros pensum omne Sororum scinditur, et Furiae rapuerunt licia Parcis.
Doomsday brings to the peoples the fatal hour that they themselves demand. Issuing from Stygian shades, Death enjoys the sky. Flying he covers the battlefield, inviting the warriors with his black gape; nothing ordinary does he choose but victims most worthy of life, marking with bloody claw those preeminent in years  and valour. And now against the wretches all the Sisters wool is torn and the Furies have snatched the threads from the Parcae.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book8.json