ne mihi tum mollis sub divo carpere somnos neu dorso nemoris libeat iacuisse per herbas, cum positis novus exuviis nitidusque iuventa volvitur, aut catulos tectis aut ova relinquens, arduus ad solem, et linguis micat ore trisulcis.
Let me not then be tempted to woo soft sleep beneath the open sky, or to lie outstretched in the grass on some wooded slope, when, his slough cast off, fresh and glistening in youth, he rolls along, leaving his young or eggs at home, towering towards the sun, and darting from his mouth a three-forked tongue!
final_alignments\Virgil_Georgics.json