dum tractat galeas atque ora latentia quaerit, tandem muta diu genitor suspiria solvit: tarda, meam, Pietas, longo post tempore mentem percutis? estne sub hoc hominis clementia corde? vincis io miserum, vincis, Natura, parentem! en habeo gemitus lacrimaeque per arida serpunt vulnera et in molles sequitur manus impia planctus.
But while the father strokes the helmets and seeks the lurking faces, at last he resolves his long, silent sighs: Tardy Piety, after so long do you smite my soul? Does human mercy exist in this heart of mine? Nature, you conquer, behold, you conquer this unhappy parent! See, I can groan and tears glide through these dry wounds and the impious hand follows and womanlike beats the breast.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book11.json