quonam usque premes urentia pectus vulnera? teque marem (pudet heu!) nec amore probabis? Sic ait et densa noctis gavisus in umbra tempestiva suis torpere silentia furtis vi potitur votis et toto pectore veros admovet amplexus; vidit chorus omnis ab alto astrorum et tenerae rubuerunt cornua Lunae.
How long will you suppress the wound that burns your breast nor even in love (for shame!) prove yourself a man? So he speaks. And happy that in the nights thick darkness timely silence lies inert upon his dalliance, he gains his desire by force, launching veritable embraces, with all his heart. All the choir of stars saw it from on high and the young Moons horns blushed red.
final_alignments\Statius_Achilleid.json