et nunc illa meas ingentem plangit ad aras invidiam surdasque fores et limina lassat: tu dulces lituos ululataque proelia gaudes felix et miserae tantum moriture parenti.
And now at my altars she makes lament and mighty reproach, wearying the deaf doors and thresholds. You, happy you, rejoice in delightful trumpets and the shouts of battle, only your hapless parent foresees your death.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book9.json