tunc immane gemens foedatusque ora tepentes affatur cineres: Cur nos, fidissime, linquis Fortuna redeunte, pater? modo numina magni praesidis atque breves superum placavimus iras nec frueris, tantique orbatus muneris usu ad manes, ingrate, fugis.
Then with dreadful outcry and countenance befouled he speaks to the warm ashes: Why do you leave us, truest of fathers, when Fortune is coming back? We have just appeased the godhead of our great ruler and the brief anger of the High Ones, and you profit not; robbed of the benefit of so great a boon, you flee to the Underworld, ingrate!
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book3.json