ac tunc pervigilem ructabat marcida cenam, sub lucem quia forte iacens ad fercula raucos audierat lituos, atque inde tepentia linquens pocula lapsanti per vina et balsama gressu ebria calcatis ad bellum floribus ibat.
Even then she was languidly belching after a night-long feast; for as it chanced dawn was coming in and she was still reclining by the table when she heard the hoarse trumpets, and she left the lukewarm cups, her foot slipping as she stepped through pools of wine and perfumes, and trampling on the flowers, and was making her drunken way to the war.
final_alignments\Prudentius_Psychomachia.json