qualis et ecce iaces! quae primum vulnera rimer? quis tuus hic, quis ab hoste cruor? quae te agmina quive innumeri stravere globi? num fallor? et ipse invidit pater et tota Mars impulit hasta? Sic ait, et maerens etiamnum lubrica tabo ora viri terget lacrimis dextramque reponit.
And how nobly you lie! What wounds should I probe first? Which of this blood is yours, which from an enemy? What hosts, what countless packs laid you low? Am I wrong? Was Father Mars himself jealous and smote you with all his spear? So he speaks and grieving cleanses with his tears the warriors face still slippery with gore and replaces his right hand.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book9.json