Una in praecelsa consedit rupe Celaeno, infelix vates, rumpitque hanc pectore vocem: bellum etiam pro caede boum stratisque iuvencis, Laomedontiadae, bellumne inferre paratis et patrio Harpyias insontis pellere regno? accipite ergo animis atque haec mea figite dicta.
One only, Celaeno, ill-boding seer, alights on a lofty rock, and breaks forth with this cry: Is it even war, in return for slaughtered cattle and slain bullocks, is it war you are ready to bring upon us, sons of Laomedon, and would you drive the guiltless Harpies from their fathers realm? Take then to heart and fix there these words of mine.
final_alignments\Virgil_Aeneid_Book3.json