miseri, sic dum arma movetis, vicit nempe Creon! nusquam iam regna: quis ardor? cui furitis? sedate minas; tuque exsul ubique, semper inops aequi, iam cede.
Wretches, as thus you fight, Creon has conquered, has he not? Your kingdom is gone. Wherefore the passion? For whom do you rage? Calm your threats. And you, everywhere the exile, always denied justice, yield now.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book12.json