Quid fles abducta gravius Briseide? quid fles anxia captiva tristius Andromacha? quidve mea de fraude deos, insana, fatigas? quid quereris nostram sic cecidisse fidem? non tam nocturna volucris funesta querela Attica Cecropiis obstrepit in foliis, nec tantum Niobe, bis sex ad busta superba, sollicito lacrimas depluit a Sipylo.
Why do you weep more bitterly than the abducted Briseis? Why in your anxiety do you weep more sorrowfully than captive Andromache? And why do you frantically weary the gods with tales of my infidelity? Why do you complain that my loyalty has sunk so low? Not so shrilly does the mourning bird of Attica utter her nightly dirge in Athenian trees; not so does Niobe, whose pride caused twice six deaths, pour down her tears from anguished Sipylus.
final_alignments\Propertius_Elegies_Book2.json