hic maesti pietas me poscit Etrusci qualia nec Siculae modulantur carmina rupes nec fati iam certus olor saevique marita Tereos.
Here sad Etruscus piety asks of me such a song as the rocks of Sicily do not modulate, nor the swan now sure of his fate, nor the bride of savage Tereus.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book3.json