medio sic navita pont, cum dulces liquit terras, et inania nullos inveniunt ventos securo carbasa malo, immensas prospectat aquas ac, victa profundis aequoribus, fessus renovat sua lumina caelo.
So the sailor in mid-ocean, when he has left behind the land he loves, and the flapping sails on his idle mast can find no wind, looks forth upon a boundless waste of water, and turns wearily to the sky, to refresh his eyes that cannot endure the sight of the deep any longer.
final_alignments\Silius_Italicus_Punica_Book3.json