quinto vix Phosphoros ortu rorantem sternebat equum: iam litora duri saeva, Philete, senis dirumque Acheronta videbas, quo domini clamate sono! non saevius atros nigrasset planctu genetrix sibi salva lacertos, nec pater; et certe qui vidit funera frater erubuit vinci.
Scarce was Phosphorus at his fifth rising harnessing his dripping steed: already, Philetos, you saw the cruel shores of the pitiless ancient and dire Acheron. Ah, how your master cried your name! Not more cruelly would your mother, had she been preserved to you, have bruised her arms black with lamentation, nor your father; and tis sure your brother, who saw your funeral, blushed to be outdone.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book2.json