fit sonus immanisque pedum tenuisque rotarum: nulla manu requies, densis insibilat ar verberibus; gelida non crebrior exsilit Arcto grando, nec Oleniis manant tot cornibus imbres.
There is thunder of hooves, a sharper sound of wheels. Hands have no respite, the air hisses with multitudinous lashes. Not thicker leaps hail from the icy Bear, nor stream so many rains from Olenian horns.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book6.json