quis tibi, Phrixe, dolor, rapido cum concitus aestu respiceres miserae clamantia virginis ora extremasque manus sparsosque per aequora crines!   Iamque mero ludoque modus, positique quietis conticuere toris; solus quibus ordine fusis impatiens somni ductor manet.
What grief was thine, Phrixus, when rapt on by the whirling tide thou didst look back and see the face of the hapless maid as she called to thee'her hands only'then her hair spread out upon the waters. And now there was an end of drinking and of merriment, and laid upon quiet couches all were still; alone amid the ranks of the sleepers the leader is left and courts not slumber.
final_alignments\Valerius_Flaccus_Argonautica_Book1.json