quin etiam occultae vulgo increbrescere voces: solane fida suis, nos autem in funera laetae? non deus haec fatumque? quid imperat urbe nefanda? talibus exanimis dictis (et triste propinquat supplicium, nec regna iuvant) vaga litora furtim incomitata sequor funestaque moenia linquo, qua fuga nota patris.
Nay, hidden voices begin to thicken in the multitude: Was she alone loyal to her own and we happy to slay? Was it not all a god and fate? Why does she rule in the wicked city?  Terrified at such words (a cruel punishment approaches and my royalty is no help) alone I follow the winding shore in secret and leave the accursed city by the known path of my fathers flight.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book5.json