Occupat arrepto iam conscia tempore mater: Hasne inter simulare choros et bracchia ludo nectere, nate, grave est? gelida quid tale sub Ossa Peliacisque iugis? o si mihi iungere curas atque alium portare sinu contingat Achillem! mulcetur laetumque rubet visusque protervos obliquat vestesque manu leviore repellit.
His mother is already aware of his secret; seizing her moment, she makes her move: My son, is it so hard to feign to dance among these girls and join hands in play? What is there like this beneath chilly Ossa and the heights of Pelion? Oh if only it were mine to join loving hearts and carry another Achilles in my bosom! He is softened and blushes for joy, casting sly, wanton glances, and lightens the hand that pushes the garments away.
final_alignments\Statius_Achilleid.json