preme dira malorum signa; quid in nostris, nemoralis Delia, silvis Maenades hostiles Thebanaque numina regnant? ei mihi! cur penitus (simque augur cassa futuri!), cur penitus magnoque interpretor omine quercum? quod si vera sopor miserae praesagia mittit, per te maternos, mitis Dictynna, labores fraternumque decus,cunctis hunc fige sagittis infelicem uterum; miserae sine funera matris audiat ille prior! dixit, fletuque soluto aspicit et niveae saxum maduisse Dianae.
Suppress dire signs of evil. Why in our woods, Delia of the groves, do hostile Maenads and Theban deities reign? Woe is me! Why deep, deep down (may I prove a prophet ignorant of things to come!) do I make out a great omen in the oak? But if sleep sends me, alas, true presages, by your mothers labour, gentle Dictynna, and your brothers glory, with all your arrows pierce this luckless womb. Let him hear first of the death of his unhappy mother. She spoke and sees that even snowy Dianas stone is wet with flow of tears.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book9.json