horruit invictae Virtutis fulmen et inpos mentis Avaritia stupefactis sensibus haesit certa mori: nam quae fraudis via restet, ut ipsa calcatrix mundi mundanis victa fatiscat inlecebris spretoque iterum sese inplicet auro? invadit trepidam Virtus fortissima duris ulnarum nodis, obliso et gutture frangit exsanguem siccamque gulam; conpressaligantur vincla lacertorum sub mentum et faucibus artis extorquent animam, nullo quae vulnere rapta palpitat atque aditu spiraminis intercepto inclusam patitur venarum carcere mortem.
Like a thunderbolt to Avarice was the sight of the invincible Virtue. Cold with terror, no longer mistress of herself, her senses benumbed, she could not move, and knew her doom had come. For what method of trickery would be left, whereby she who had already trampled on the world should faint under worldly temptations and once again entangle herself with the gold she had scorned? As she stands thus in consternation the brave Virtue sets upon her with the iron grip of her arms and strangles her, crushing the blood out of her throat till it is dry. Her arms, pressed tight like bands beneath the chin, squeeze the gorge and wrest the life away; no wound ravishes it in the agony of death; the breath-passage stopped, it suffers its end shut up in the prison of the body.
final_alignments\Prudentius_Psychomachia.json