ipsa inter medias flagrantem fervida pinum sustinet ac natae Turnique canit hymenaeos sanguineam torquens aciem, torvumque repente clamat: io matres, audite, ubi quaeque, Latinae: si qua piis animis manet infelicis Amatae gratia, si iuris materni cura remordet, solvite crinalis vittas, capite orgia mecum.
Herself in their midst, the frenzied queen uplifts a blazing brand of pine and sings the marriage song of her daughter and Turnus, rolling her blood-shot eyes; then of a sudden she fiercely shouts: Ho! mothers of Latium, give ear, wherever you are! If in your loyal hearts still lives affection for unhappy Amata, if care for a mothers rights stings your souls, loose the fillets from your hair, join the revels with me!
final_alignments\Virgil_Aeneid_Book7.json