cur oculis sordet vicina voluptas? hic tua Tiburtes Faunos chelys et iuvat ipsum Alciden dictumque lyra maiore Catillum, seu tibi Pindaricis animus contendere plectris sive chelyn tollas heroa ad robora sive liventem saturam nigra rubigine vibres seu tua non alia splendescat epistula cura.
Why do our eyes scorn pleasure near at hand? Here your lyre delights Tiburs Fauns and Alcides himself and Catillus, named by a greater harp, whether you are minded to vie with Pindars quill or lift your instrument to the doughty deeds of heroes or brandish satire, black with envys venom, or give no less care to your sparkling letters
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book1.json