Cardine sub nostro rebusque abscisa supernis Tartarei sedet aula patris, non illa ruenti accessura polo, victam si volvere molem. ingenti iacet ore Chaos, quod pondere fessam materiem lapsumque queat consumere mundum.
Beneath our pole, cut off from the things of the upper world, deep down lies the palace of the Tartarean Father; never would it share the fate of the toppling sky, even if the mass were sent rolling. wide-mouthed Chaos lies, so huge that it could swallow all matter, wearied with its own burden, and the falling universe.
final_alignments\Valerius_Flaccus_Argonautica_Book1.json