nunc, socer, haec dum non manus excidit; ipse ego fessus quinquaginta illis heroum immanibus umbris vulneraque ista ferens putri insiccata cruore protinus ire peto! Trepidi de sedibus astant Inachidae, cunctisque prior Cadmeius heros accurrit vultum deiectus et o ego divis invisus vitaeque nocens haec vulnera cerno integer? hosne mihi reditus, germane, parabas? in me haec tela dabas? pro vitae foeda cupido! infelix, facinus fratri tam grande negavi.
now, my father, while this hand is not forgotten. I myself, weary from those huge shades of fifty heroes and bearing these wounds with the blood dried and foul, I ask to go and go now. The sons of Inachus start from their seats towards him in agitation and before them all the Cadmean hero runs up with countenance downcast: Oh hated of the gods and guilty in my life that I am, do I see these wounds myself unscathed? Was this the return you purposed for me, my brother? Were you aiming these weapons at me? Oh hideous lust of living! Wretch that I am, I denied my brother so great a crime.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book3.json