ei mihi quod tantum patrias ego vertice frondes solaque Chalcidicae Cerealia dona coronae te sub teste tuli! qualem te Dardanus Albae vix cepisset ager, si per me serta tulisses Caesarea donata manu! quod subdere robur illa dies, quantum potuit dempsisse senectae! nam quod me mixta quercus non pressit oliva et fugit speratus honos, quam lustra parentis invida Tarpei caperes! te nostra magistro Thebais urguebat priscorum exordia vatum.
Alas that with you to witness I only bore native chaplets on my head, only Ceres gift of Chalcidic crown! How would it have been with you (scarce would Albas Dardan field have contained you) had you through me borne off a garland bestowed by Caesars hand? What vigor that day might have given you, how much of old age taken away! For inasmuch as oak mingled with olive did not press my brow and the hoped-for honor eluded me, how calmly would you have taken the grudging luster of the Tarpeian Father. With you as my mentor my Thebaid pressed close upon the works of ancient bards.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book5.json