Quis tibi, parve, deus tam magni pondera fati sorte dedit? tune hoc vix prima ad limina vitae hoste iaces? an ut inde sacer per saecula Grais gentibus et tanto dignus morerere sepulcro? occidis extremae destrictus verbere caudae ignaro serpente, puer; fugit ilicet artus somnus, et in solam patuerunt lumina mortem.
What gods allotting, little one, gave you the burden of so great a fate? By this enemy do you lie low scarcely at lifes first threshold? Or was it to make you die sacred through the ages henceforth to the peoples of Greece, worthy of so grand a tomb? Grazed by the lash of the tail tip, you perish, child, and the snake knows not of it. Sleep fled your limbs straightway and your eyes opened only to death.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book5.json